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Last night, I was rolling around in bed reeling after too much tandoori chicken, and was reminded of the amount of tummy aches I had on my trip to India.

I never thought I would willingly choose to go to India, but a couple friends were living in Mumbai on embassy business and they offered me their extra room in their apartment, so I decided to go smell the smells. They advertised their apartment as having electricity, running water, and a 3 meter gate around the whole thing to keep the dalits out, so I felt I was safe.

The first couple days were spent acclimating to the sweltering humidity and rancorous odors. As a pastey white boy who doesn't like heat and people, this country was possibly the worst place to visit. Hordes of people filled streets and trains, much worse than internet videos had shown me. People's sense of spacial awareness was like that of ants or rats or some other gross bug. Being white was a curse; every time I tried to walk somewhere on my own, IT consultants would eventually swarm me and take selfies, then get mad at me when I told them to stop touching me and that I was not Joey Eisenberg. They were yelling SOCIAL NETWORK? at me.

One day, I went hunting for a restaurant for Brahmins that served gujarati thaalis. While walking down a street that smelled particularly pungent, a horde of shudras caught wind of my whiteness and began tailing me. I had hoped they were just going to take a shit together, but they began hooting and hollaring at me, yelling POOSY BOY. In my public school upbringing, I learned that you have to teach bullies not to frick with you by standing up to them, so I turned around and yelled back at them that YEAH, I AM a KITTY BOY, wanna FRICK my WHITE BUSSY? This was the wrong plan of action. They immediately swarmed around me.

They were all filming me with their phones, chanting lots of gobbledigook and taking selfies. I stood defiantly against them as they started groping me, each still saying POOSY BOY. I laughed it off and said, I'll bet you SPICY STRAGS aren't even HUNG, and now they began yelling OH VERY BIG, OH SWEET PEEPEE. One of them pulled out their peepee and repeated VERY BIG, even though it was like 4in hard. I flashed my butt at him in a show of dominance, and he responded by fricking my butt. I laughed at his pitiful peepee trying to poke my prostate, and told him HAHA having trouble finding my BOYCLIT? He became flaccid from embarrassment, but another, slightly more hung VERY BIG came and took his place. I squeezed hard with my sphincter and he came immediately, I laughed and squirted his cumin-scented c*m back at him. Eventually they had all tried fricking me, but not a single one had even grazed my prostate, while I had made each of them squirt without much effort. We all had a good laugh and they added me to their Whatsapp group chat.

I eventually got to the restaurant and I now smelled like everyone else there. They fermented melon sauce was delicious, but not worth the trip out there, and it made my stomach tie itself in knots.

Anyway, I'm never going back. I had to wear a mask the whole time I was there not because of COVID but because the air itself is poison. I had so many nasty shits after trying local food, and you know, I can just do that at home instead. Plus, it is not the place to go if you're hungry for peepee.

And that, my friends, was my epic hookup fail!