M from Mumbai talks about a romance gone sordid. So well told. Thank you, M
Day 31 of 100 Indian Tinder Tales
“They say you leave behind a bit of yourself with every person you meet. Not a significant chunk. But little iotas. Chunk, if the exchange goes beyond simple chatter, leaning towards friendship. Beyond those relationships so defined, it’s the souls in question that intertwine with every kiss and caress, unifying to settle at the base of carnal fulfillment. That is dangerous territory.
Earlier this year, my tinder exploded with matches and the newly introduced ‘super-like(s)’. Amidst this titanic wave of attention and conversation, one potential match stood out. He was in his early 30’s. But that didn’t really matter. I prefer older men. And I never bothered asking why he kept his limit lower than usual. But hey, I kept mine high too. So we were even I guess. He was a dusky, bald expat living in the heart of the city, not too far away from me. He was open, flirtatious and very generous with his compliments. I exercised restraint – a lesson learnt after a night gone awry with another tinder date. That tale is for another time.
The first phone call happened. I was at home working and saw Truecaller flash his name on my screen. I smiled a little. Nervous, hoping no one was around to eavesdrop. I answered the call. And it was his voice. His mature, exotic accent got me rapt in attention. The conversation was pleasant albeit brief. We were to meet soon.
Subsequently, we did. And the on that night, the cool, effortless façade he put up melted away as I received a number of anxious and seemingly nervous phone calls and messages from him during the 20-minute journey enroute. “Have you left? ”, “Hey, where’re you at?”, “How far are you?” It was kinda strange. But I gave him the benefit of doubt, he was probably really really REALLY nervous. I thought that was cute, but still strange given that he was so forthcoming in his advances via text.
He was extremely shy when I got there. So much so he showed me around his newly-done apartment and offered me chocolate. It was like I was 16 again. I was nervous too, but acted completely cool. He was unconventionally gorgeous and seemed like he had so much to offer in terms of life lessons and experiences. There was something sincere about him. I wanted to know more.
We chatted a little – the basics, and retired to his room. Lights off, gigantic flat screen TV on. We spoke and spoke. Soon the words, “Can I kiss you,” popped out of nowhere and the very next second I found him on top of me. I’d been with people before him, and I’ve been with people after, but making love to him felt like real business. It was thrilling, exciting and completely satisfying – in a way that didn’t exactly leave me sated, but yearning for more. We’d both established that neither of us wanted a relationship, but nothing else was defined. We didn’t have sex. But he messaged me the next day telling me how he couldn’t stop thinking about me. How I was the best kisser he’d ever kissed. And how good I was at giving head. I do enjoy giving head.
Then began one of the most grueling romances of my life. You’ve probably figured it didn’t end well. And it didn’t. Our roller-coaster ride of a fling involved him yo-yoing and changing stance, leaving me confused as fuck. Things were done and said that would leave anyone wondering whether this guy was for real. But I still wanted to give it a shot. At friendship, if nothing else. Because I truly believed that he was a fantastic human being. Confused, afraid, but oh-so-wonderful! All the shit that he put me through emerged from exactly that – confusion and cowardice. But despite all that, I still believed that he was SO much better than all that he was doing. The timing wasn’t right. And neither of us did justice at showing each other that. It came in bits and pieces, too insignificant to be acknowledged amidst the mind-games and mud-slinging.
To put 2 months worth of unbelievable, ridiculous drama in a nutshell, we don’t talk anymore. The end was bitter with attempts made from both ends to salvage the dynamic…but he kind of weaned off eventually. And I had no option but to retreat. Hurt, unsettled and down right dejected.
I showed screenshots to a guy friend and he said I spoke too much. And that made me step back and think. Fundamentally, my reason for joining Tinder was to find someone I could talk to. Oh, I have many friends. But I just felt like I needed someone new, someone I had no history with, to explore the world around with – from the smallest and most mundane things to the most beautiful revelations. Fresh eyes, fresh mind, fresh perspective. And that’s what I found in him. That potential. To be myself unabashedly – emotionally, physically and sexually. And that’s why I fought so hard to maintain our relationship.
It’s been a while now. We don’t talk. But I feel like I left behind a part of me with him that first night. I gave him a part of me that I thought I owned, for nobody else to take. And so while I gave head to my fuck buddy last weekend, all I could think of was his bald, shiny head.”
Induviduality 