“I suppose it’s not a social norm and not a manly thing to do — to feel, discuss feelings. So that’s what I’m giving the finger to. Social norms and stuff…what good are social norms, really? I think all they do is project a limited and harmful image of people. It thus impedes a broader social acceptance of what someone, or a group of people, might actually be like.”
I know it will be another inconceivable, controversial statement I’m going to make but I will do that. How long does it take to build up the sexual chemistry between a man and a woman? How long does it take for a committed person to desire the other?
2 minutes, a bare 2 minutes it will take.
I’m not talking about love here, I’m talking about the sexual attraction. For us, it has become so difficult to dissociate sex from love, socially and culturally, we can hardly accept that we want to have sex without having love. But I’m not talking about the actual act of sex here, I’m talking about the attraction, the want that is a prelude to sex. It’s up to you, to what extent you take ahead that attraction. A thought, a fantasy, a longing are the abstract manifestations of the rising sexual attraction whereas a hug, a kiss, a cuddle, necking, petting, and the actual act of sex are the physical manifestations of the sexual attraction.
Let me confess, I do get attracted, to a lot more men, sighting them, hearing them, smelling them. And it’s natural. Romantic chemistry is not just about warm, gooey feelings that gush from the deepest depths of the heart. The real boss behind attraction is our brain, that runs a quick, complex series of calculations while assessing a potential partner. This is called the science of attraction, but what about the outcome of this attraction? Should I act on the attraction or not? It took me a lot of self-introspection and random experimentations to determine the extent up to which I want to act on those attractions.
I realized that I do not want to go naked and have intercourse with every man I’m sexually attracted to. But at the same time, I like the touch.
I experienced this first hand when I met a school friend of mine after 20 years. That day, I reached the mall at the scheduled time but he was a bit late. So I killed my time, strolling at the alley near the staircase. My back was facing the door. As he came in, I looked at his reflection in the glass-walled store of Pantaloons but pretended that I haven’t seen him. I often do this when I meet people for the first time or after a long time. I feel awkward to look first at the unfamiliar face, so I let the man spot me, come near me and say hi to me.
It was still too early for the mall to pick up the bonhomie and hence we both recognized each other even though we were meeting after 20 long years. He came to me and we handshaked. The next difficult thing was to find a place to eat and sit. He hasn’t had his breakfast and I had a crumb of jam and bread. At 10 am all food joints were closed except for a Chinese eatery. To beat the winters, I ordered a sweet corn soup and manchow soup dunked with pan-fried noodles.
We sat and talked. He had stirred me on the call before, about our meeting agenda. I have to enlighten him about everything sexual, I have been practicing and reading. I did not disappoint him. These days I live sex, breathe sex, and think sex. Talking about sex has become a cakewalk for me.
‘Do you know that there are 100 kinds of kisses listed in the Kamasutra?’ ‘Do you know that the most tantalizing of touches are the subtle ones?’
I then inched near him to illustrate this by gently pressing his earlobe between my thumb and the index finger. This is touch 1. I then lightly feathered the strong column of his neck with my forefingers. How does it feel, I asked him. He was titillated and nodded his head.
Throughout our crosstalk, we gently sipped soup from our peach colored, melamine soup bowls, to avoid burning our palate from the rising wisps of steam. I did not like the taste of sweet corn soup and pined at his. The Monchow soup looked much spicier and yummier. He sensed my hunger and lovingly fed me the noodle soup from his little wooden spoon while looking at me in tender softness. I felt the heat of steam rising inside me. This touch! of our lips, the confluence of our saliva(s) through the cupid of the soup spoon. When he fed me soup from his spoon, a thin film of his saliva mixed in the soup was there on that spoon. A consolation for the lip kiss that was about to happen next but had to wait in the food court. I then set in motion the bottled up sexual tension between us by making it obvious.
‘See we are seated close to each other. And my thigh is touching your thigh on this couch. And this ‘touch’, this ‘gaze’ it does titillate our senses, why do we feel awkward in telling the other person that we are indeed aroused. Desire is natural. Isn’t it?