How can a guy say he loves another guy? That is just weird and plain stupid…
I think it is mental disorder #IJS…
These were the comments I woke up to one morning. I felt a sharp stab in my heart, that feeling you get when you are in a mix of disappointment and resentment. I have seen lots of posts like this throughout my tour of cyberspace, but why does this hurt more? I couldn’t QWERTY my feelings like I have always done whenever I get to see such misguided and hate spewing posts.
Well, what exactly do you do when your first love and family friend decides to join the homophobic train? Nothing much, I suppose.
I remember the eventful way he ended what we had years ago.
It started with a light rasp on my door that dreadful evening; the knock that wasn’t exactly a knock, but he did it anyway as proper etiquette, and this turned out to be the Morse code I used to know he was the one at the door. I knew it in my heart that something was wrong the moment he came in. He had that ominous glare in his eyes, the same look he always had on whenever he was about to do or say something “serious”. That unstable movement of the eyes whenever he was trying to make a point, and the light tug at the ear to reiterate for emphasis.
“Why did you send me that kind of text?” he began his umbrage.
Yeah, about the text – “I miss you! I want to kiss you and suck your dick.”
I have never ever sent him a text throughout the duration of what I’d like to think of as our fuck buddy relationship. In fact, he always made the move; mostly every two days. Those days I always patiently waited for, because it was my chance to try to show how much I wanted to please him. Our kind of sex was mainly the naïve type off the early gay starter sex pack: touching, me sucking him off for a bit, and him rubbing his dick inside my butt crack till he came (at some point I never knew the dick could go into the ass and I when I finally did, I didn’t want to try it). This went on for as long as I could remember. He was for a fact the only one. Even when he started being the ultimate ladies’ man, with girls in the neighborhood going crazy for his swag and his teenage debonair, I still felt like the supreme one in the mix. Let him run around in his Cadillac, I am not worried because I know he’ll be back, I always told myself.
Then he changed when good things started happening to me. I got into school upon my first attempt without the usual hustle that characterized the fight for admissions to federal schools. I was the university guy at a very young age. I suddenly became the topic of the young admission-seeking community in the neighborhood, taking his shine and all that came with it. I still honestly believe that tilt in limelight enraged him and it took its toll on whatever you might want to tag our relationship.
He decided to punish me with what he knew I loved the most: The D.
I thought he was busy or something when I didn’t see him for a week.
And then, the week after that.
Then two months!
Then I sent THE TEXT which was going to be the end of the world.
“Why did you send me that kind of stupid text, eh?” he repeated.
I couldn’t answer. I wanted to, but I didn’t know what words to say in the face of his evident rage.
Then he released the bomb. “I am not gay o. Forget that thing we use to do, I am not gay. Shey you hear?” he said, pulling at the tip of his ear (ears I playfully bit when the going was good) to show the gravity of his warning. “If you are gay, don’t bring it and come my side. Go and find other gay people. If it is hard, I will find for you!”
In that moment, I felt like that cylindrical thingy that held the tissue roll in place that is finally thrown into the trash after the last roll of tissue paper has been used (Yes, I wasn’t fit to be called the tissue paper, at least that served a purpose). And when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, he promised to show my parents the text. The evil, lust-reeking text! This was when I had to start remembering to breathe because my body wasn’t doing it on its own anymore. I didn’t cry because my body at this point didn’t know what was going on. I was frozen at the point he turned and left me in the room.
He continued threatening me with the text for days, but my ego was too big to beg. No, I’m going to be made shittier than I already am, I told myself.
Then one day, I called his bluff. I went to him and told him, “My guy, if you wan show my popsy the text, make we go now because he dey house. Momsy dey sef.”
He said ok and followed behind me, saying nonsensical tripe as he followed. I wasn’t paying attention, because I was thinking of how my parents were going to take this truckload of rainbow colored can of worms. But I was determined to end this. I was tired of being unable to sleep at night, wondering about the text and if he would go ahead with his threat.
I was too deep in my reverie to notice he had stopped following me. I looked back to see him walking back to where he was previously. I laughed silently. He didn’t have the balls after all.
So when I saw these posts on Facebook presently, all these years later, I did well to hit the like button on all of them, knowing for sure that a mutual friend on my list is his new fuck buddy. Should I drop a hint in his comment box about knowing his new fuck mate or nah? I thought to myself.
Written By Ace