But my heart still thuds in my dry mouth at the sight of male pulchritude.īecause I am skinny and genetic garbage, and I like wearing colourful clothes and a bit of jewellery, I have been called ‘Bottom’ all my life, but I have never believed in these roles and enjoyed balking at them. That process was late and slow because fighting sexual scripts that engrave us in stone is a slow business.

It is only in my 40s that I am beginning to slowly, tentatively break free from these roles, these labels.Īs a strange ‘bottom’ who has never been entered (40 year old virgin was my nickname a few years ago), I look forward to that experience but not with a North Indian brute who thinks he is a nail and I am a wall. I am still waiting for my Tamil hero who will do that for me, someone who does not model himself on Suriya or Dhanush but who is happy in his scruffy, ungroomed Tamil voluptuousness.

And will let me do to him what he wants to do to me. He may not exist, but in my 40s I still dream.