I had the opposite experience.

I sat in my silk kurta, dhoti, underwear and banian, my wrists wrapped with freshly plucked jasmine. A fan turned slowly overhead, sending the rose petals on the silk sheets squirming. Strings of marigolds hung lazily from the bed poster, champa incense smoldered lustily in a corner.

I heard giggles outside the door. I checked my HMT watch. It was go time. The door squeaked open, and my new bride was pushed inside. She had a lottah of milk and a tumbler in her hand. She turned back in mock anger, and her girlfriends teased her. One of them tossed a Durex which my wife expertly caught and tucked it into her blouse. Her friends slammed the door shut and locked it before making ribald jokes about my johnson.

I crossed and uncrossed my legs as my father had taught me earlier. Then I patted the space next to me on the memory foam mattress. My wife walked slowly, anklets clinking. She placed the lottah on the table, poured out the milk and offered it to me. I twirled my waxed and glistening mustache, grinned, and accepted her offering. After I was done, I took off my kurta.

She sat on the edge of the bed, her kanchipuram silk iridescent in the dim light. She turned her back to me and slowly removed her jewelry. She stood up now and unfurled her sari, spinning slowly as she undid the nine yard silk, looking like a rotisserie chicken at my local dhaba. I licked my lips.

She stood there in just her red bra and white petticoat, covering her chest like a schoolgirl who had been caught in the toilet with the latest copy of Glamor magazine. I undid the flowers from my wrist and threw the garland on her. It missed and hit her eye.

“Aiyo!” she said, and started rubbing it, her smile half-frozen now.

“I’m sorry,” I said and got up. I wanted to rush and grab her, comfort her and reassure her that everything will be alright, that now that I am her protector, I will destroy anything that tries to harm her, even if it means myself. I tripped over my dhoti and fell and bumped my leg. We both laughed at our clumsiness.

“I’ll get Bandaid,” she said, and left the room, looking for her mother. I reached for my phone, got on Reddit, found this post, and, well, the rest is history.