The Dream

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Can a gay man love a straight woman?
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Ananta has a dream. She dreams of romance. Of sex. Of a tall, handsome man quite her opposite making love to her over and over.

Alas. Her geekish self cannot manage to obtain a boyfriend. Two graduate degrees and three jobs later she is still single.

Her loving, teasing best-friend who is incidentally gay and the closest she's ever been to a man, Ungar, thinks Ananta is the dumbest bitch on earth. But he never says it in front of her. Only at the gayest of parties, when they run out of jokes about each other, he starts quite casually and it becomes a long night of discussion: Ananta's non-existent sex-life.

"I bought her a dildo from South Street," he tells his friends, as his latest lover slaps him a big 'NO-NO' and then walks off to the powder room to smarten up. The boys look at him and laugh.

"Is she still? You know? A virgin?" Erich, the Dutch, leans forward and then giggles. He has a new shawl on. Ananta has the same shawl. A mutual gift from Ungar.

"I told her to fuck me so many times. But she's such a prude," he continues, slapping the table.

The boys laugh, though uneasily.

"Seriously?" Melody the cross-dresser slid her hands up Ungar's hairy arms. "You wanted to fuck her?"

Ungar make a face. "I was joking," he says. The room grows silent at the bad choice of words. Ungar's latest flame returns to the table with Erich. They leave soon after.

It's Thursday in Philly. Boy's night out. Many a times Ungar has invited Ananta to join him and "the gang", but Ananta doesn't feel comfortable in crowds, and she's not all that jumpy about her sexuality around men who look so confident in their minis and heels. Not to mention red lipstick. She's never been able to pull that off.

Her skin is too dark for red lipstick anyway.

She's Indian. Straight from India. You know...as in East Indian to the 'whites' who think West Indians and Red Indians came before.

It's bad enough she doesn't take care of herself then to get into minis and compete for her femininity with a bunch of thin boys.

"You don't dance at a gay bar like that," one man had reminded her when she attempted to sway her body sensuously to the Makarena. And then he showed her how it was really done.

She enjoyed it actually. Dancing with her first non-Ungar gay friend. It was good clean fun, too. He never tried to touch her inappropriately, either.

But she didn't do the gay-bar scene unless it was Ungar's birthday or something. That and once in a while, Ungar's 'gals' would invite her to their little luncheons and she would go. Those she liked too. Very posh and laid back. Tea and cucumber sandwiches. No beer. No nonsense. She got along well with Erich. They even went out a few times for things no one else wanted to join her for. Like lingerie shopping. Ungar certainly didn't.

Once a colleague of hers saw her with the 6ft tall blond, long-haired CD and looked positively flushed. 'She associated with members of the rainbow community???' The office grapevine was wrought with rumors. 'Did she come out? Was she seeing a gay man? What? What?'

That Ungar was gay absolutely no one suspected. He was such a handsome boy. So manly. So, definitely sexy to the women who always lined up to talk to him wherever he went.

And he really never broke their hearts with the truth. Once she knew.

The man was gay! Gay as gay can be. He slept with men. Sometimes two at a time, though he had a soft corner for Erich, who was more feminine than many women Ananta had seen anyway. What did it matter who he shagged as long as he was happy?

As for her happiness. Something was amiss. Men she met seemed to lack real depth, or emotions -- no tragedies in their lives. No drama. Save the stupid ambition of corporate success and more money.

Yuck!

"I'm getting a degree in Anthropology," she said to Ungar, the day she found out how to keep herself occupied.

"Another one?" he looks at her in the eye like he's not just looking at her, as though to tease.

Ananta looked at these eyes that made every woman's legs buckle and every man's too, perhaps. He had the darkest sexiest eyes...

Any other woman would have pinned him to the walls and made love. But she's not a fool.

She made her eyes into a flirtatious demure squint, and laughed instead. "Why? Are you planning to leave me if I get another one?"

He laughed too. It was an old joke. They argued like a married couple. Which gay man and straight woman didn't?

Sometimes, it gets kind of creepy, though, like when they slow danced and he would put his arms around her waist and bring her close to him, so that he could hear his heart beat.

But she was a rational person. And HE was GAY!

End of conversation...

He had his first gay experience when he was 14. The other boy was older -- 20. So he told her. And then when he was 21 he had met a Swedish sailor and hooked up with him for a year. Traveled the seas. Had more fun. Returned. Married a man twice his age , but separated also. All in a matter of just 35 years of his life.

She had never questioned anyone's preferences. And nor was she going to start. 'Sufficed to know he was happy.

Happy to see him have fun. Happy to see him at all.

So. There she was. At Ungar's birthday party. Single. No date. No man worth bringing anyway. Spinsterish Ananta. At 32, going for another degree. Borrowing friends from Ungar the sexy gay boy everyone loved to love. And she. Just the opposite. Lonely.

So, when John from her boring Sociology Methods course asked her out, the next week, she did not say no. She said no only when it came time to go home but John held her hand in the subway station and started to move his fingers up and down them like she was some kind of sitar. Suddenly, she had Ungar's image in her head. And only one thought popped into her head -- how it would be unfaithful to him.

Were they an item?

At 32 it struck her that she was falling in love with her gay best friend!

He lived two roads down. They usually met for tea. Sometimes, he comes around. Sometimes, she. Only today, he came to see her with flowers.

"Did you get the job?" she looks at him in surprise.

"Yes," he walked up, looking a bit tearful. The job was in New York. Perfect for single gay men like him. But not so much for their friendship.

'We all must say good bye sometime,' she thought, the sorry cycle of sadness making her feel like jumping off a cliff.

He gave her a hug that didn't seem to end, and then began to sob.

"What's wrong?" she tried not to sound too sad, holding back her own. Saying good-bye is hard enough. But now she's doesn't know why.

"I love you," he blurted out.

"What?" she stepped back, shocked he'd say those words in one line. Was it puppy love? Romantic love? Why couldn't she be clear?

"I mean, I fell in love with you," he blurted out again, crying, wondering why she had that look on her face.

He's so visibly shaken, it worried her to see him this way. Silently, she handed him a box of tissues and he blows his nose.

"Say something," he looked up, looking distraught.

Ananta was in shock. "I'm not sure what to say," she managed to utter. She, really, did not. Did she love him? Sure. More than words. But what was the nature of it? She admitted it was no just friendship. That she thought of him day and night. Like he would always matter more than any other guy. Though she didn't imagine him to be sexually her type.

What was her feelings towards him?

She tried to answer him but she didn't know the answer herself.

She walks over to him and gives him a big hug. "I love you too," she said, meaning every word. But when he looks up into her sorrowful eyes, he knows it is not the love he has desired for.

He wants her in flesh. The body he is used to hugging so closely has grown beautiful to him. He can almost taste her sweet perfume that he has picked out for her last birthday. Her lingerie that she will never use for any romantic occasions, he meticulously picked out from Victoria's Secret on Valentine's day, just to make her laugh. But now. Now he wishes to make love to her, or fuck her. Which ever way she'll let him.

But she won't let him. The pain is too strong. He feels wronged. And two weeks later, he's gone.

In Ungar's absence, life has turned a pathetic pale for Ananta as she weighs her prospects. The boy from sociology lacks basic depth. The boy from Wharton she is dating only talks about money and cars. And then there is the medical doctor she met but who treats her like a patient.

All in all, she's longing for a good fuck but no one is offering.

At the gay bar, the boys don't talk to her as much either, now that her connection to the place is gone.

Sometimes she wonders if they understood his need for her. If they spited her a little, though Erich tells her none of that. Nothing but good things ever comes out of Erich. When they meet for Erich's little luncheons to which she still gets invited, she is really surprised.

"He misses you. He does. He tells me all the time. You were practically like Juno's swans," he says, brushing away the folds on his plaid skirt.

Ananta tries not to look too shocked, but frowns. HE --Ungar -- hasn't called her since he left. Hasn't returned her calls, either. So much for love.

Is it really necessary to be so angry with your best friend? And what was she supposed to do? Become a third-leg?

"I want to have a normal family. With two kids and a home and a husband who isn't shagging another person...let alone a man!" she had told him angrily, when he refused to understand that she wanted fairy-tales. Her way...

"Why does it have to be so complicated with you? Why can't you just have sex without the complicated drama?" he pushed her against the wall, nuzzling at her ears like a hungry puppy, but she pushed him back.

"It's not a joke. It's who I am. I don't lecture you about who you are. Why do you lecture me?"

That was that. He hated rejections. He had been rejected once before. By another girl. He was 11. She was 10. Such a tender age.

"I told you in confidence but you cannot tell the boys," he had said, holding hands on 2nd street, like kids at a parade. And then they watched the 4th of July fireworks.

"I won't. Promise," she had said, proud to be in his confidence.

How she would miss him on these 4th of Julys... She had never meant to hurt him.

"But you're hurting me now," he said, that last time she saw him, ever.

She heard from Erich that he was fine. But she didn't know what that meant.

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7 Comments
AnonymousAnonymousover 11 years ago
LOVED IT!

Could we pleaseeee get a part two?! I would love that :)

BlackShanglanBlackShanglanover 18 years ago
Most intriguing language and style

I like the off-balance feel of this, coming in with a feeling of bare, simple narrative, as if uneasy with the language, but with a pleasant music behind it at well - dancing slightly off-beat but rather gracefully. The story moved me; I understand some of the objections to it, but it worked for me. I liked it much better for her refusal; that, to me, gave this the depth and strength that it has. Thanks for a very interesting read.

AnonymousAnonymousover 18 years ago
Good

I think it's good read. Obviously Laurel and Manu must have think this is worthy of an 'E" or else why would they bother right?

Thanks Moll65doll

AnonymousAnonymousover 18 years ago
Interesting

Straight woman here. I found the story interesting. Would love a part 2

AnonymousAnonymousover 18 years ago
Dull

Poor grammar. Dull, cliched storyline. Not original in the least. How this ended up with an "E" is anyone's guess. Maybe the people in charge are throwing darts.

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