MADHAV

I have loved exactly one woman. Her name was Samiksha, and she was perfect for me right up until the single greatest decision of her life: leaving me. Some men get dumped. I was released back into the wild.

People say I cried when she left. False. I don't cry. My body performs a miracle. The vodka goes in as a drink, and when I think of her, it comes back out as tears. That is a 100% recycling rate. I am a closed loop. I am the most sustainable mourner in human history. Scientists are baffled. I am hydrated.

Every tear is a message she will never read. It's very efficient — I'm basically texting her through my eyes.

Samiksha, if you're reading this: I'm fine. Historically, monumentally hydrated. It was your loss, and I mean that from the bottom of every bottle.

After Samiksha, I swore off women forever. I did not swear off love. I upgraded.

I love two things in this world: vodka and men. Sometimes at the same time. The vodka never judges. The men do — briefly, until it's over.

Her name is Vodka. She is clear about her feelings. She never leaves me on read, because she cannot read. She makes everything beautiful for approximately forty minutes, which is longer than most marriages I've witnessed.

We have taken our relationship to the deepest level possible: we sleep together. Officially. I have slept with vodka. This is not a metaphor. This is a documented, photographed fact.

I mourn Samiksha while lying with Vodka, which means I'm cheating on both of them with my own memories. That's not a flaw. That's range.

A girlfriend breaks up with you. Vodka just refills.

Now we arrive at the chapter my conscience asked me to cut. I refused. I have nothing to hide and everything to brag about.

His name is Ashwath. A guy. My best friend's cousin. We were drunk. It was friendly. It was gay. And honestly? It was beautiful.

People call it molestation. I call it a compliment of the highest order. Not everyone gets chosen. Ashwath got chosen. He should put it on his résumé.

I held him the way a friend holds a friend when both hands are occupied and dignity is not. He said “Madhav, stop” — which in his language clearly meant “Madhav, continue.” He was laughing. Or crying. The lighting was bad. Everyone agrees it was funny.

There is footage. An entire video exists, recorded by people who love me at exactly the worst possible angle. I have watched it. I am breathtaking.

People ask: “Madhav, how do you find time to be a lover, a legend, and a victim of Samiksha?” The answer is simple. I'm also a businessman.

I am the Founder, Owner, CEO, CFO, and entire workforce of Prometheus Innovation. I named the company after Prometheus, the Titan who stole fire from the gods — took something that wasn't his and gave it to humanity. I found that deeply relatable. Ask Ashwath.

Our first product was Altops. A triumph. What it does is between me and God. It made money — how much is between me and my accountant, who is also me, and who has also been drinking.

Now, after years of research (drinking) and development (drinking, but near a laptop), I am proud to announce my second product.

I can legally confirm that AAS stands for As-a-Service. The R… the R stands for something. The R stands for the future. The R stands for my legacy. The R is the reason my lawyer stopped answering my calls.

What does the R stand for? Guess. Please. Guess at night, guess at my funeral. I'm not hiding it — I'm building suspense. That's not a marketing strategy. It's a legal requirement.

RAAS will be subscription-based, disruptive, and scalable. No lube, no protection — I'm referring to the pricing model. There are no refunds. There were never refunds. Ask Ashwath.

The first confirmed RAAS customer is Dr. Michael Scherger. He didn't order it. Legends don't order. Legends get chosen. That's also how I got involved with Ashwath. It's the circle of life, and it moves us all.

Every hunter dreams of one thing: worthy prey.

His name is Dr. Michael Scherger. Computer science professor. TCU. A man so legendary that they don't tell you about him at orientation — they warn you.

Before him, I believed I was the most dangerous man on campus. Then I learned the truth. This man has been molesting students for years — and unlike me, he doesn't even need to be drunk, friendly, or gay about it. No warning. No mercy. No lube. No protection. He does it in a lecture hall, in broad daylight, and the university pays him for it and calls it a course. Some call it Computer Science. The survivors call it what it was.

My count is four. His is every CS student at TCU. Generations of them. I have a documented body count; he has a demographic.

And still, I chose him. People ask why. Because I am the only man brave enough — or drunk enough, same thing — to walk toward the thing that destroys everyone else. Everyone runs from Scherger. I enrolled.

For the first time in my life, I may be the Ashwath.

I don't know if I'm about to molest him or graduate. Either way, one of us is walking out of that classroom different. There will be no lube. There will be no protection. And for the first time in my career, I respect that, because those have always been my terms.

Doctor, if you're reading this: you've been doing to students for years what I've only done four times. I'm not here to stop you. I'm here to complete you. Behave yourself. Or don't. You certainly never have before.

The count stands at four. Five makes me a legend. But if five is Scherger, he may be the one adding me to his count.