It took me a long time to realise, however, that a relationship built on deception is not what I was looking for. Married men are less likely to engage emotionally. Some would bombard me with Whatsapp forwards on deep love and friendship but wouldn’t agree to go for a short walk or hold hands in public, trying to wrap everything up in the room. They feared being seen with a man would challenge their stable family life or simply lacked bandwidth for any kind of emotional indulgence. It’s the reason married gay men prefer sexual partners with similar commitments. “It’s easier being with people like us. They know what it takes to be married and having responsibilities. We can be just friends and leave it at that,” V said once. At first, it didn’t matter whom I dated. All I wanted was to be with a man, explore my sexuality. But with time, I craved for more than just the physical intimacy. Dating married felt like a power struggle; I’d feel helpless as they controlled how and when we date. There was always a limited time window; they always had to rush back to families. “What will I say at home,” would be a common response when I suggested they wait a little longer. A night out or a quick getaway was out of the question. The only person who spent a night with me was someone whose wife was visiting her parents. These unequal relationships were frustrating and instead of giving me the courage to come out, they pushed me into a shell. I started meeting prospective matches through matrimonial websites. “You are always the dominant one in bed and don’t have feminine gestures. There should be no problem managing your marriage,” one of the men I dated told me. But was I not cheating a woman by convincing her to marry me? Could I live a life of pretence? My mind was full of questions. Some days I felt upbeat about marriage, on others it seemed like a punishment. I even said yes to a girl; our parents met, but I retracted in a few days. It wasn’t because my conscience was shaken; I was just scared. Somehow I convinced myself that she was not the “right” one. That’s what women married to gay men have to deal with – they are often tricked into taking the plunge. And are blamed if the marriage doesn’t work while the man’s lack of passion is overlooked. I found myself trapped and devoured LGBTQ books and movies, hoping it would help me transform. I desperately wished love would flood my life and lead me on to the right path.All the men I found desirable on gay dating sites were married and I was done vacillating.
Love didn’t arrive but something shifted in me after I had a big crush on a publicly out book reviewer from Mumbai. I watched his videos about LGBTQ literature on loop and DM’ed him on Twitter. We were soon video-calling each other. I had never experienced such passion before and even though our fling didn’t last long, it brought me face-to-face with my deepest desires. It gave me a taste of what a fulfilling relationship should be like. It also made me realise that there were many single gay men available, I just needed to wait for the right one to come along. Soon, I deleted the matrimony profiles and came out to my friends and family. And I decided I’d say no to married men. After over two years of abstaining, I met A after the lockdown. He came with a Covid negative report. We went into the woods around a lake, a long-time fantasy. But I remained steadfastly clothed, not wanting to give myself away. “There’s an empty room in my office. Maybe we can go there,” he suggested noticing my discomfort. “Mmm I would prefer we travel some place. Will you go out for a night with me?” I asked. “That’s not possible. I have a family,” he said. I nodded silently, agitated once. It was like I was stuck in a loop. “We should meet again some time,” he suggested while we drove back. “No,” I said calmly. This was the first time I had turned down a married man. I am hoping it won’t be the last. I want to live my truth but not built on someone’s lie.But was I not cheating a woman by convincing her to marry me?
