Married Men and their Gay Trysts

Amit Ghosal* was like your typical Delhi-based businessman in his late forties. A successful entrepreneur that lived in the very posh district of Maharani Bagh, he had a wife who he had been married to ever since he was in his early twenties. She gave him two kids a year promptly after marriage and he gave her enough cash to keep her occupied. They attended swanky Page3 parties where they hobnobbed with some of Delhi’s elite. They vacationed in St.Barts during the winters and Austria during the summers. He had politicians in his pocket just like she had Amex Platinum Cards in her's. And while she expelled excess energy by maxing them out on jewels, designer saris, and Louis Vuitton purses, he had boys half his age visit him at his discreet condo in Noida.


It’s not uncommon to find this scenario in New Delhi. In fact, it’s almost like a mini gay stereotype – The Rich Married Guy. To the outside world, they are model citizens who uphold family values to the core, while behind the sequined-curtain they help themselves to an array of younger men and never really hesitate to being labeled a Sugar Daddy.


A couple of weeks after my disastrous first date, I decided it was time I get back to the gay online sites in the vain hope of finding a like-minded soul. I was still in touch with The Bull (a name I shall be calling the guy who took me out on my first date as a reference to his astrological sign and his prowess at bullshitting) and I had more or less gotten over how he treated me on our first date. We still chatted over the phone for numerous hours at a stretch, and the great chemistry we had together was back in play. However, I figured that he wasn’t gonna sweep me off my feet and carry me into the sunset just yet. He kept mentioning that he loved the way he could just talk to me about anything and everything under the sun, and how he was amazed to have made such a good friend such as I. Although my heart swelled with joy each time he said that or indicated it, I knew that it was best I try my luck elsewhere. Although, I decided that I wouldn’t meet anyone face-to-face yet, but chat with them online and get to know them better. True, that didn’t really help me before, but hey – better safe than sorry.


So back online, I again received a slew of messages with the usual “Hi, a/s/l? Top, Bot, Vers? Cock Size?” but on my fifth day back, I got a surprisingly witty message that was generously laced with charm. After exchanging a few messages I added Amit Ghosal on my MSN list and we began chatting. His charm and wit just seemed to grow with each passing minute. Smooth and crisp with a compliment thrown at the right place and time, he seemed like he genuinely cared about everything I had to say and acknowledged everything with a thoughtful remark. It was only at the fag-end (pun unintended) of our conversation did he mention that he was married and signed off promptly, leaving me with my jaw dropped in sheer shock!


I didn’t mention this incident to The Bull out of fear that he might think it was shitty of me to cyber-flirt with a married man. Plus being one to always give the benefit of doubt (a trait that at times has become more of a liability over the years in the gay scene) I decided I should give Amit a chance to explain himself. He told me how his family came from a small town in Punjab and his grandfather was terminally ill and it was his wish to see his firstborn grandson married before he kicked the bucket. Small town traditional values prevented him from objecting a dying wish and hence within a few months, his father arranged his marriage to the daughter of an affluent land-lord of a neighboring town and he received a handsome amount in the form of dowry and moved to the big city to set up his now his import/export business. His grandfather lived on for ten more years where he made many-a-more ‘dying wishes’ that included grandchildren and quarterly visits to his death bed with the entire family.


By the time he did finally kicked the bucket, Amit had become all the more comfortable with his marriage of convenience. He had a wife who had an extremely low sex drive (so he thought), kids who spent most of their lives in boarding schools and now lived abroad, a wealthy business that was founded by the dowry received by his father-in-law, and a constant supply of young gay men who were always available to him at his beck-and-call (wealth can always bring such a convenience when in a city like Delhi and in the gay scene). To him it was a situation where he could have his cake and eat it too – or should I say cock.


As far as he could tell, he had always preferred men to women. Apparently, growing up in small towns of Punjab only fueled his homosexual desires as boys from the age of thirteen onwards used to meet behind the proverbial haystacks in the vast fields for an afternoon romp in the hay. He was told by the eighteen year-old who took his virginity that it was the best way to get rid of sexual urges of any sort because if they were caught having sex with girls, they would be forced to marry them at the earliest. And it wasn’t just the closet cases who indulged in it, but the very-hetero married men claimed to enjoy it too because the thrill of getting themselves serviced by younger men with more stamina was way better than the sloppy excuse for a blowjob given by their wives.


To top it all, he didn’t really consider himself gay! He was one of those ‘bisexuals’ who although rarely had sex with a woman, claimed to live their lives in accordance to the theme of Hannah Montana – You get the best of both worlds.


Despite all his convincing and sweet talking, I couldn’t bring myself to meet him in offline. True, I did chat with him for sometimes online, mainly because it was so rare to find someone on the gay sites who could carry off a conversation without asking my ‘stats’ and if I had a place every two minutes. I cursed my luck that a guy who seemed seemingly nice on paper turned out to be a married philanderer. After a few weeks, he announced that he had taken upon a new boyfriend and felt it would be disloyal to him if he continued to chat with me online (he certainly did have an odd sense of loyalty).


“Married men are the absolute scum of the gay scene here in Delhi!” announced Wolfie*, one of my few gay friends who didn’t hesitate from sharing a strong opinion – honesty is truly a welcome trait in the oh-so-faux Delhi social scene. He too was once approached by a married man online, but due to his old fashioned code-of-ethics, refused to meet with him offline. He later discovered that the guy was already dating a couple of boys, to whom he had announced his marriage way after he had succeeded to get them emotionally involved with them. When I asked why would those boys stick around? He claimed that to them it was a great deal. Not only did they get sex on a regular basis, but also got him to pick up their tab whenever they sojourned to ‘Pearls n Petals’, where they promptly left him at the bar and danced the night away with any random guy who was willing to come back home with them for a threesome. It’s interesting to note how like most marriages, some gay relationships (even adulterous ones) were based on convenience.


Later that year, I was at Wenger’s at CP, buying a birthday cake for my hag (a gay man’s best girl friend is also known as a fag-hag), when a voice whispered in a low-baritone, “So we finally meet” behind me. I turned and saw a tall man well into his forties. After I arched a quizzical brow with silence, he reminded me that we had chatted quite a few months ago online on the gay sites. Not able to ring a bell, I just politely smiled and apologized for not really remembering. He shrugged his shoulders and said something along the lines of, “I guess I shouldn’t have let you get away so soon.” I smiled and thanked him and promptly turned back to the counter and he headed off to another section where a young twinky boy was eyeing an array of assorted chocolates with delight. The man wasn’t really the kind of person I’d find remotely attractive. Even though the hair on his head were receding to a point not even a ‘comb over’ could save, his ears and nostrils showed no signs of balding. Though in a full-sleeved shirt, you could see tufts of thick black hair on the back of his hand and knuckles. If that’s all on his hand, imagine what his back and bikini area would be like.


Upon my exiting, I heard the twinky boy say, “Oh come on Amit! You’re rich enough to get me a crate full of chocolates, and yet you expect me to choose just four”. My eyes widened with shock as I just realized that this was the classy-married gay guy who had almost won me over with his wit and charm. After taking another good look at him, I smiled to myself and headed towards my car. His eyes had bags that could pack an entire shelf of The GAP, while his stomach protruded like a beer-keg. His mouth seemed as though it remained in a perpetual grimace while his shoulders drooped that made his stance look depressive. Money did buy him designer clothes, and a twinky boy at his disposal, but it did seem that it was at the cost of his own health and happiness, and it was clear that the twinky boy saw Amit as nothing more than a meal ticket. I’d almost feel sorry for him, but then again, he got what was coming to him.


* Names have been changed to protect identity (and so that I don't get my ass kicked... hehehehe).