Unbearable Fantasies

My fantasy had collapsed onto itself. As he held me tightly in his arms, I didn't know if he was real, if he had materialized out of nowhere, only to disappear again. Encounters with him have a garish beginning. It's not romantic at all! It is not the romance I want, I need, I imagined, I could make sense of. It was transactional. Before meeting him, I would already be upset about him leaving. I wanted him to hold me, to tell me that he cares for me and that he will care for me. But, despite knowing what I wanted him to say, he wouldn't. Maybe it was his way of holding onto some power when clearly the transactional nature of us meeting warranted that I was the one holding it. 

Several months back, I was out and about in a familiar city with a few friends. A city that gets you so drunk that you forget about the awful people who live in it. After a long day, much of which I spent with a long forgotten old friend - who used to be a lover - turned stranger now - turned friend again - turned stranger sometimes - who became a stranger to himself. We walked, and talked, and I told him that I feel lonely all the time and that I deny myself my own company to punish myself and that I missed him, the stranger. And that I miss strangers holding me. Does that make sense? He said yes, and he held my hands, and held them for several hours and we said goodbye. Later that night, when I couldn't bear to be alone again, I started talking to a stranger on grindr. He was hot, he was alone too. His name sounded important. And he was hot, did I mention? I booked a cab and went to his house. He was good at giving orders. That night, I needed someone to tell me how to feel. How to be. On my way to him, he told me to take my dick out, sitting in the back seat of the cab, and send him a photo as a proof. And I did. I felt nothing. I felt everything. 

Before agreeing to meet him, I said, 'I only want one thing from you. I want you to hold me, hold me closer than you have ever held any stranger before, and tell me that you care for me'. I entered his house, he was naked, he was glorious. He took my hand, held my fingers lightly, and led me to his room. He had already lost himself in his syringes, and his EDM music, and his mystical lights adorning his room. While he held my hand, I looked over at his bookshelf and recognized a book written by a friend. I told him, 'I know that book', and he said, 'and now you are about to know me'. It was transactional, really. All he wanted was our bodies to touch and my tongue to warm his nipples. And all I wanted...well...I told you. And he delivered what he promised. He held me, he kept whispering into my ears 'i will take care of you' 'i care for you' 'you deserve all the care in this world' - and my dick kept getting harder and harder with every sentence - and his sentences about care suddenly turned to love - he said 'i love you', 'i will always love you', 'you deserve all the love that this world can offer' - and I ejaculated just as I tried to hold back my tears - just as I tried not to dissolve into him. The moment passed, I had to leave that unbearable city in a few hours and I left his house. We knew that we would never meet each other again. My fantasy was short lived. He looked for his next nipple warmer, while reaching out to his next syringe. 

Longing, March 2024, Delhi (the day we met)

Back to 'him', who refuses to tell me that he cares for me. In between long sentences of me telling him that I can't imagine a world without him - and that how could he be so beautiful! - and that no man has ever made me feel as sexy as him - and that I can't bear to be in the same room as him because his beauty is suffocating - and that I can't stand for men to lick and bite my ears but for him, I melt and I melt and I melt into him, his tongue, his breath - and he captivates me and that I love him I love him I love him! 

"Can I say something awkward.....something unusual?", I tell him after our tongues had explored the insides of each other's mouths for good 20 minutes.

"Yes, always", he said in a heartbeat.

I continued to kiss him for 10 more minutes. This time though, my tongue just circulated on his lips, around his lips, he moaned, and I moaned with him, and his fingers dug deeper into my waist, as my fingers held his hair tighter - i needed him - he needed me - we needed each other. 

"I love you", I said, matter of factly. 

"What's unusual about this? I love you too", he said, like it was the most natural reaction to the most awkward emotion.

And then began furious non-conversations between us. He said 'I love you too' and he said, "I don't get into this 'feeling business'...it's a waste of my time...it scares me...."

"Do I scare you?", I asked.

"No. I love you.", he said.

I told him that we needed to come to a compromise - that he wanted me to his randi (whore) and I wanted to be his begum - and the only way I could be his randi was if he were to hold me tight like I was his begum.

He heard this and within a second, pulled my hair, turned my face around and told me to shut up - "no", he said - he said you are not worth anything more - you are only and only a randi - and a really beautiful one too. That night I felt lonelier after he left than when he held me in his arms.

Some years back, I met a handsome man. His smile, standing between cold, snowy hills on his profile got my dick hard. I messaged him, "your smile is beautiful", and he replied back, "but not as beautiful as you". The only correct response to my message, if you ask me. 

"What are you doing now? Do you want to meet?", I asked. 

"No. I am about to sleep", he answered.

"No! I can't bear to not be with you! I need to see that smile in person!", I said, not hiding my desperation. I rarely hide my desperation. 

"Dream of me, and tomorrow I'll make your dreams come true", I said.

The man knew he was charming. And I was charmed. The next day we meet and we couldn't keep our hands off of each other. His smile was prettier in person. I blew him like his dick was the only thing keeping me alive - he moaned, his eyes rolling back - he told me my mouth felt like heaven and that he couldn't afford to look away from my eyes - that I needed to come closer to his mouth so that he could feel my eyes looking into his - and I couldn't help myself - the tears in my eyes were not from gagging - but from his love - how could I not weep from his love!! - for me!! - how could anyone be expected to not fall in love with him!! - and from that moment till the moment he left my house - we only looked at each other and nowhere else. And I loved him, I loved him, I loved him! 

Back to 'him', who refuses to call me his begum.

"Do you use Spotify?", I texted him, out of the blue, like I usually do. 

"No", he replied, curtly, like he usually does.

"Where do you listen to music then?", I followed up. 

"On Youtube", he replied.

"Okay", I texted back.

- - I send him a song about a woman pleading her lover to not leave her side - she says, 'please stay near me' 'please never leave me'.

- - - In return, he sends me a song about a woman who says that every time she leaves her house, she loses herself, she can't find herself, that she possibly doesn't belong anywhere....perhaps not even to herself.

- - - - In response, I send him a song sung by a woman who says that she can't find peace without her lover, that her friends keep asking her why she looks so sad, and she can't answer them, the heaviness in her eyes perpetually seek her lover. 

- - - - - He never responded back.

"Missing you", he texts me, several days later....out of the blue. 

I was surprised. 

"I miss you everyday, every minute, every heartbeat", I texted back, within a minute.

I love you! I love you! I love you! 

"ok", he replied. 

Please love me too! Please love me too!

"Why are you so cold hearted?", I say, frustrated. 

"You know I am not good over texts. I can be myself with you in person....do you want to meet?", he said.

"I don't know....I am not sure....", I say.

"There is love between us....why do you hesitate....", he says, surprising me again.

"Fools like me always hesitate in love", I say.

"Don't think. Just be with me. Do you want to meet tonight?", he asks. 

"I don't have money......", I text.

"ok", he replied. 



  1. Nicely written stories. Unbearable ending though. My friend once told me that loving someone is hearing your heart break on both sides. But she can be so silly too, went a little blind in defying how profoundly transactional every relationship is. Reading this made me realise how lovers are so replaceable, friends really are our truest romances. At least they don’t leave us alone through our stupidities :) Anyway, here’s one song we untangled my last heartbreak to https://youtu.be/8StKOyYY3Gs?si=uN44V8F4_v-9H2tW


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