The Waltz of The Flamingoes

"Now the female will start flapping her wings and circle around the male," he said pointing to the television in the corner of the fast food joint, which incidentally seem to always run either sports channels or "nature channels". I do not know what morbid fascination he had for birds, which he surely did not have for me. He had been talking about them for the previous forty-five minutes.



He was entirely delicious, the kind of guy one finds once in a neon moon, especially when one is alone at home. Initially during the conversation I told him how lonely it feels not to have anyone else at home, what with everyone busy visiting some relative or the other. I assumed he got the point. HE seemed intelligent, at least, smart enough to understand the suggestion. BUT NO! all he could talk abt was the mating dance of the flamingoes, he called it a waltz. I tried getting his attention and knew a few "discreet moves"-I tried throwing the spoon off the table and bending over to pick it, he didn't seem to notice. Damn those movies...none of those moves work in real life. He remarked how graceful the flamingo's legs were. I asked him if he liked long legged guys. He looked nonplussed and proceeded to explain how the anatomy of the human leg differs from its avian counterpart. I tried licking my fingers after i finished my sandwich, he told me that was unhygienic.

I had tried every trick in the book, and if there was chemistry it would show by now, otherwise the reaction was way off-balance. I passed the next half hour listening discovering a new dimension to the phrase "bird-brained". Having dated scores of men, I had a redoubtable reputation in the gay social circle in my home town. There were urban legends of me being able to bed the most recalcitrant of men with a wiggle of my finger. And here I was, unable to work sex into a conversation with an obviously gay man. I had a lot at stake that night. I had my reputation riding on this Hard hearted male (I was wishing for it to be the other way round).


He was paying for the meal so I decided to appear graciously interested. If I couldn't get sex, I might as well indulge myself with the menu and make up for lost carnal pleasures. I polished off quite an impressive array of dishes whose names sounded vaguely like they were children of a French father and an Arab mother living in Timbuktu. He seemed unperturbed , he had this stoic expression on his face which didn't let you know if he was hiding something or if he really was an idiot. He paid for the dinner and asked me if he could give me a ride home. I might as well save a penny or two, I thought. What happened later was just a blur-when one is fast losing interest in the other person, it's hard to keep track of all that he wants you to hear. Usually, I am told that my eyes have a glazed look and I have a disturbingly smiling demeanor when I am not particularly listening to people. He took it as a sign of my interest in the long beaked finches of Galapagos he was telling me about. Finally after suffering one excruciating hour of Hyderabad's traffic, we reached home.
I suddenly felt an uneasy pain inside me.... there was my gloriously lonely home waiting for him and here he was, unceremoniously dumping me. Just as i was stepping out of the car he hurriedly mumbled something. I thought he was sayin somethin abt some damn bird- I just smiled and nodded. "So where do I park my car?" he asked me. Why would I worry about his lack of a parking space. He asked me the same question again...I asked him if he didn't have a garage at home.
"It'll take me a good part of the next three hours to park my car at my home and come back here" he said. He had been mumbling about wanting to come up "for a cup of coffee". My heart leapt out...there was more uneasy pain in the chest....well, butterflies in the stomach..... its alright, its just the anxiety of sleeping with this fabulous guy, I thought. I took a moment to compose myself and with an awkward smile lead him to our garage. The butterflies in the stomach still wouldn't go away.
The scene shifted to my living room. I made him coffee, (the next day i was to find out that he hadn't even sniffed it). We talked about lots of things.....mainly birds. I asked him if he wanted to take a look at my room.



We went into my room, he tenderly ran his fingers up my back. Now my heart was beating faster than it ever had. Suddenly, I felt this inexorable urge, the light in my eyes seemed to dim....... My legs sprang with an urgency i had hardly ever felt........I RAN...........................................
............. I RAN and moments later, i was crouching over the toilet throwing up like I was a pregnant frog. All the butterflies in my stomach decided to fly away that very moment.
All the exotic ingredients of the evening's meal, made an appearance in the show, all at once.
After eviscerating to my heart's content, I fell back. I felt him holding my head and rubbing my back. He cleaned me up and helped me to my bed.


"You should have gone easy with the sea-food" he said.

I smiled.



After quite some time I asked him why he'd acted so aloof and uninterested all evening? The Waltz of The Flamingoes, every species has its own version of the mating ritual, this is the mating ritual of the human homosexual. Someone acts aloof, someone else makes a fool of himself.


P.S. We were together for the next two years. Flamingoes don't mate for life, I guess.