Anatomy Of A Hug Vol 1


Today, in the Metropolitan jungle, we’re expected to be etiquette-ready for any situation. On a single day you could be hopping between a traditional Indian wedding to meeting the CEO to drinking beer with your pals at a local pub to a blind date.

In between tea, cocktails and small talk, there’s that moment – the 5 seconds where you pop in for a hug and a peck on the cheek, although the later is rare in India – when you meet and greet people. Cut short, with my step-by-step guide, the next time you’re in a social or professional situation with a future client or spouse, there will be no awkwardness – you won’t go red in the face or fumble and crash face first. In the first part of this series, I’ll walk you through hugging your girlfriend.

Hugging her should be simple, provided you know which buttons to press. Begin “slow”- pull her close and tight (but don’t strangle her), in a smooth butter-like movement. Make her feel sexy and desired. Once you feel her breadth between your ears and neck, try a combination of slow small clockwise circles and up-down and across movements with your palms on her back – making sure the palms remain in the middle because too high suggests friendship and too low gives the wrong idea.

Give her warmth and safety. Think bang opposite her belly button. Once she throws her arms around your neck, do a little lift (give her the feeling of sweeping her off her feet). Throw in little nothing puppy dog kisses on her ear lobes and mid neck and shoulder area. Once you have her back on her feet, and if she’s biting her lip, slide your hands in her jean back pockets (sneak up on her with a butt hug) keeping it very casual unless you’re alone and she wishes to go further.

If you’ve mastered this, hug her from behind and flirt with her belly area. Depending on the mood, tickle her belly button and love handles with feather like fingers. Remember, not all, but most women love to be cuddled. Again, think cute, funny, gentle and innocent – nerd like. Leave her room for imagination to build a story she’ll never forget.

Published originally on GQ.


How not to be a complete schmuck


From what I have previously discussed, you’re A-game should be selling the idea of adventure, looking sharp, chest hair and making the first impression on Venus. That said and done, how does one go about this with little or no experience?

Begin here. Take a brief moment and think about all the times you’ve driven a group of girls to the mall, picked up their clothes from the dry cleaners or even stayed up all night listening to them rattle away about how men are dogs.

Honestly, if you partake in any of those activities, my best bet is, you’ll always remain the friend – one of the girls, so to speak.

The first thing you need to do is tell yourself, “(put your name here), you’re not going to run after women”. Repeat this in your head a few times every day. This should kindle some confidence and ignite dormant male hormones. I know what you’re thinking:

But, by doing so, wouldn’t this eliminate all my chances with females? The answer is, ‘NO’.

Here’s why. Think about all the men that run after women – making them a trophy to be won. And, here you are with the couldn’t-care-less attitude making women curious and fuelling imaginations – become the trophy.

Next, how do you fix available-on-a-whim tag without losing friends? Simple. Become exclusive, stay busy or for the sake of conversation, the next time a girl calls you to fetch her lip-gloss, let her know you’re doing something important – stuck at work, flying a plane etc.

Get the picture? By doing so, you’ll no longer be “available” all the time. In other words, you’ll come of as exclusive – the kinds women lust for.

Lastly, become or stay mysterious in the eyes of women. You can do this by speaking less about yourself, giving generalized answers and turning the conversation back on Venus. The gift of gab work like a charm, so read more newspapers, magazines etc.

Remember, be exclusive, remain mysterious and avoid chasing girls – like a dog chasing its tail – and you’ll be the man girls can’t stop talking about with their friends.

Published originally on GQ.


High Flier Program


As I snuggled my way into the economy seat of a Being 747, with a flask half-full of rum and my iPad in position for a theatrical odyssey, hoping to avoid any in-flight food and entertainment, a sexy crisp-cracker like voice on the overhead speakers of a Boeing 747 had me entranced.

It was the pilot – a female in her early 30s, and moments later, she handed over the mic to the co-pilot, another woman – although this one sounded like a girl I met at a bar in Berlin, who happened to work as a part-time belly dancer. I’m guessing this wasn’t her, although, that would be a fantasy most of us would fancy.

In a lech-like state, I pictured the first voice in garters, topped with a sexy short blue skirt, piercing white shirt littered with medals and hair tied neatly in a tight bun under a cap. And, the second voice in an electric yellow and pink Punjabi suit, with wavy hair down to her Angelina-Jolie-like bum. Think Katrina Kaif from Namaste London but with Sheila’s feline prowess.

It was only when Linda – a sexy flight steward – interrupted with a glass of Jack that I noticed the drool on my upper left shirt pocket. She knew this wasn’t the airplane food that had me in a dog-looking-for-bone state.

Around 3 am, two hours into the flight, and a few innocent glances later, I could see Linda step up to the lavatory door and press her comely body up against the door, biting her lip, big-Barbie-eyes fluttering, left hand combing her hair and the right slithering down from bust to hip in slow motion – showcasing her a body like the girls introducing a Chevy convertible on The Price Is Right, hosted by Bob Barker.

A heady clutter of thoughts ensued as I gathered my legs to follow Linda into the high-flier loyalty program. We began to work each other like clothes in a washing machine – nimble not to awake fellow passengers.

I kept thinking, Linda’s damn flexible – she had both legs wrapped around my neck, while her bum balanced on an inch of shelf. This is when I lost balance and ended our kinky jugglery by sandwiching Linda’s bum against the counter, dislocating a tap.

The sound of gushing water deafened my ears. As I regained consciousness from a sozzled slumber I could see Linda crouched over, dabbing my face with a wet towel. Apparently, I had one too many and zonked out two hours into the flight.

Published originally on GQ.