I Want To Marry a Gay Man – Nina Sangma


Oh yes I do! After going through a series of dalliances or what I like to also call temporary aberrations of the mind, no longer am I willing to suspend my disbelief. Am I the only one who thinks sex is overrated? What about L.O.V.E? I see my friend reading her Mills and Boons…yes yes girl porn for some of you Neanderthals, and the obvious question is, can I even dream of being kissed demandingly, hungrily, obsessively or whatever hyperbolic way one can be kissed? And the answer is no!

The way things are going and here I mean it in the best way possible (knock knock all my male friends)…the chances of me swooning over a hunky are outnumbered 1 to 100. Chances of me being violently nauseated by most men in my city…now we’re talking! Projectile vomiting is not a remote possibility. Add to that I have the misfortune of living in Delhi…a place that makes Fred Flintstone look like a suave man about town.

When you been approached by men whose idea of pick up lines range from “Axecoose me is this chair taken?” to “Hello myself Vishal” to “My father have steel factory”. More horrors, “Sssssssssss” to “I from jaipur may I enter club with you “and like one well meaning Sikh gentleman who threw any attempts at above such lines to just rubbing up surreptiously next to us gaggle of girls at a popular night spot. All under the pretext of dancing.

And don’t even get me started on the dress code!!!

Exhibit A, paunchy, wearing black tyre hugging t-shirt with the words ‘FEEL THE HEAT’ writ large across his ample bosom in hot pink spangles and glitter font. Accessorized with thick gold chain, the kind that’ll give a Rottweiler a complex.

Exhibit B, a kind of universal dye of Delhi men, slick gelled back hair, dark shiny shirt in non natural fibre, shoes that will enter the room 20 minutes before he does, Issey Miyake and sweat drenched, body odour emitting natural catastrophe.

Exhibit C Street dancer/ disco fighter Sardar…aka Capt Bobby “I fly Jet airways” Shergill. His moves had us hooting but then he decided to be smart…”If you want to be air hostess I can get you in”. What part of broadcast journalist do you not understand?

All of whom would drive any woman to celibacy.

And then of course there’s the annual Bobby Darling Fan Club that meets in Hype, a club owned by Bollywood’s most prolific, DJ Aqeel. To reserve a VVIP booth, shell out a cool 40 grand. On a Thursday night? Fearless Jaat boyz occupy bragging rights.

Which makes me desperately want to marry a gay man.

An idea that gets propelled when I’m in a room full of gorgeous men on a Saturday night in Claridges. All of whom are talented, cultivated, good looking and know how to talk to a woman.

All that dizzying amount of testosterone and none of it making me want to barf. So how did the evening end? It ended up with breakfast almost in bed. Thanks to Baldy, me and a friend took three men home with us. And what did we do? Talked into the night, laughed till we cried and bitched like it was going out of style. All very satisfying. And the clincher, Laly and me were asked how we liked our toast? Crunchy, extra crunchy or soft?!

Mommy I want to marry a gay man!

(By Nina Sangma)

4 thoughts on “I Want To Marry a Gay Man – Nina Sangma

  1. baby, if you find a set of gay men who are ready to marry straight women for societal pressures, please keep one for me. then i’ll have two husbands, one for work inside the bedroom…and the other one for everything outside the bedroom 😉

  2. There are quite a few straight guys who can be civilized and sensible, but then they don’t look hot, usually don’t hang out in “the” club scene and generally avoid hi-maintenance women (read whatever you will). These guys are usually well-read, average salaried, with middle-class values and aren’t desperate – even if they are, they have been taught manners !! 🙂

    If you want such a guy, take off the ultra-feminist beer goggles and look for the guy who avoids you like the plague. Check out his girlfriend/spouse who smiles at you with pity and then re-calibrate your own personality. You’ll probably not like it since you want to bake your cake & eat it too but then you’ll have to compromise somewhere to get half of what you want.

    Do I sound horribly MCP-ish ? I probably am…. but feel free to read this (or not) –


    All the best,

  3. It is sad that I agree with all the exhibits.. but there are nice guys out there…who, in turn can divide Delhi (tsk tsk) girls into categories.. and I am not at all sorry to say that those categories are not very fine either:
    Exhibit A : The rich fake dress me up girl who is completely dumb, like to the core.
    Exhibit B : The sexy almost borderline slut with clingy issues – who lives to be a “baabu” to some broad broad man
    Exhibit C : The loud over the top ‘fashionista’ who is easy on the eyes but extremely the opposite on everything else.
    Need I say more?
    You know you love me.

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