Most people I meet are through Instagram, so I can’t quite relate when people mention meeting people on grindr, manjam, and the like. I am Instagram addict, and that is because I’m a selfie addict. I take pictures like every time and everywhere. And on this particular day, I’d posted a picture of me shirtless and pouting on Instagram. Fifteen minutes later, a notification popped up. A comment against the picture post – ‘You are so cute, where are you?’ I checked out the commenter’s page, and saw that he was not a bad-looking dude. So I replied and told him to DM me instead of commenting on the picture. He did and subsequently asked for my BBM pin. We started getting acquainted on BBM, but he was the one asking all the questions in getting to know me. He didn’t give much detail about himself, only that he worked with the presidency and lived in Abuja. (Let’s call him Fola)
A few weeks later, I was on a short break from school. I am always happy whenever I have to be back in Lagos, because I get to have fun, go on dates, hang out with friends, and try new foods (Yea, I’m a foodie). It was a week to the end of my break when Fola pinged me, asking if I could come to Abuja. I promptly told him to book a flight for me, and I would be there. He agreed and said he’d send me my flight details by the weekend. Now, because of this potential face-to-face meet, I had to verify the dude’s market. So I showed his picture around to my friends, wanting to know if any one of them knew him. Nobody knew him. I was unsettled. I really wanted to go on the trip, but I couldn’t help the questions that nagged my mind, like, ‘What if this was a setup, or a ritual thingy? Or perhaps, he was into organizing lays for politicians…’
Then, Fola pinged. He wanted to have the details of my passport so he could book the flight. Without replying him, I sat there, pondering the situation, until I slept off. I woke up the next morning and sent him the details he’d asked for the previous night, this after he began to exhibit a temper at me, talking about how he was not sure about me and all. He told me I shouldn’t bother with the trip to Abuja, that he’d be in Lagos in a couple of days, that we’d see then. Feeling relieved, I readily agreed. But that didn’t work out, because he messaged me on the day of his arrival to say he couldn’t make it anymore, and that we’d have to meet some other time.
I wasn’t happy, but there was nothing to be done about it. My break was up and it was time to go back to school. My school is a private Christian university, and life as a gay guy there can be quite stifling. Soon after getting back to school, I settled into life as a student and forgot about Fola. It seemed he forgot about me too, because he never called or texted. He simply remained in my contact list, dormant.
Three weeks after the break ended, the test period was upon us. I never read for tests. In the last week of the test period, out of the blue, Fola pinged me and asked if I could come within the week. I told him I could try. This time, I didn’t feel any anxiety, I was just excited. And so, I gave him my passport details without even checking my test timetable. I had no exeat to leave school, but I figured I’d lie to get one, make up something about a dead grandfather or an urgent visa interview.
Fola sent me my flight details. I was scheduled to leave Lagos on Thursday evening. He asked me again if I could make it, and I said yes. I was packing my bag on Thursday morning when a friend of mine walked into the room. He saw what I was doing and asked if I was leaving school. I said yes, adding that I was going for an interview in Abuja. I had to lie to him because he asks too many questions; plus he is straight. He said if I intended to leave that day, then I would miss Mr. Onabanjo’s test. I groaned when I heard that. Shit! That frigging timetable I hadn’t checked! And Mr. Onabanjo was a lecturer that derives pleasure from bringing students back to take his course over and over again. I stopped packing and went through my flight details once again. The flight was for 6pm and my test was for 4 – 6pm. There was no way I could make it. So I picked up my phone and texted Fola.
I texted that I couldn’t make it that day after all, but the pings wouldn’t deliver. And I didn’t have his number. Different thoughts raced through my mind as to what to do, like going to the clinic to get an excuse duty, so I could write the test another time, or simply missing the test and doing my best in the exams.
Then, my pings delivered, and Fola replied, saying I should just forget about it then. He was expectedly pissed. I tried explaining my predicament to him, and he was like, “Is it not just a test?” I told him I could not miss my test, and he eventually conceded to rescheduling the ticket to the following day. I was relieved by that.
So, I had my test on Thursday, and I planned to collect exeat for my departure on Friday morning. When I got to the Student Affairs office around 8am, it was to meet a queue that was too long and an absent Student Affairs officer. My flight had been rescheduled to 6pm that evening, so I wasn’t too worried. I went to the dean’s office and he wasn’t around either. I started getting worried. I went back to the Student Affairs office and joined the queue. The officer showed up three hours later, and announced that he would not be giving anybody exeat today. I felt a sharp pain in my chest, like I’d being shot. Everyone around began dispersing and murmuring unhappily.
Undeterred, I left the queue and followed after the man. I reeled out a story about my grandfather being dead, and that as his only grandchild, I had to be at his funeral. The man asked me for his obituary or an invitation card. I said I didn’t have any. (Hello? I was family; I didn’t need to have an invitation card with me). The man then said he had to talk to my father or someone in the family for verification.
At first I was frantic with worry over how to overcome this hurdle. Then I remembered my roommate, a guy who had a very grownup voice, and I texted him to call the Student Affairs officer and play the role of my uncle. He did and did such a convincing job over the phone call, that the man believed him and instructed his secretary to give me an exeat. I looked at the time and it was almost 12pm. The drive from my school to Lagos was a four-hour drive, when you throw in the traffic situation.
I got to my room, finished packing, and practically fled from school and to the park. I boarded a bus, and we were only three passengers in it. By then, I was really, really worried that I was going to miss the flight. I’d gotten so worried that I even began to help the driver holler for passengers.
We eventually set off for Lagos by 12: 45pm. Anxious to be certain how long I was going to be in that bus, fidgeting over my flight, I asked the lady sitting next to me how long the journey to Lagos would be. She said like five hours. I took my earphones out and tried to focus on my Sam Smith playlist. I think someone called out to the driver about having a job he had to get to in Lagos, and his urgency made the driver to increase his speeding. I was happy at this, but some of the other passengers kept complaining their discomfort over his speeding. The driver didn’t pay them any attention, and we eventually got to Lagos around 3: 40pm. I still had enough time, so I went to an eatery to have lunch and change my shirt. I got to the airport by 5: 45 to find that the flight had been rescheduled to 6:30.
We soon got on board and I was seated next to a man who didn’t stop checking stocks on his phone. They did the whole flight sign stuff, and then we were ready to fly. Then the pilot said there was going to be delay because the president was about to land. I’d already texted Fola to be on his way to the airport. An hour later, the president landed and still, we couldn’t fly. Fola texted me and said he was at the airport, and I replied that my plane is still in Lagos. After waiting for almost an hour, he got pissed and texted that he was going back home. We were eventually able to fly after about two hours and thirty minutes, finally getting to Abuja around 10 pm. Fola had texted me a cab man’s number he had sent to pick me up. I got out of the airport and called the number. The man showed up after ten minutes and in a short while, I was on my way to Fola’s place. I called my best friend who lived in Abuja, and we talked throughout the journey into the city.
When we got into the city, the cab man called Fola and began telling him that he had picked me up and that we were almost at his area. I listened avidly to the conversation, taking note of my location and texting the co-ordinates (lol) to my friend, in case I was being kidnapped. Lol.
I got to Fola’s place around 11pm. He turned out to be the real deal. Not a pimp or a kidnapper. We shook hands and he prepared dinner. We watched TV, and then it was time to sleep. I was exhausted by the hassles of the day, but I still wanted to get it on with him. I was expecting kisses and smooching, an extended make-out session that would lead to an intense fuck. I was mistaken. He simply pushed me to the bed, yanked off my clothes, and proceeded to simply fuck me. No making out, no smooching, just straight up Christian Grey, without the whips and the spanking. The sex was rough and selfish. I’d never being fucked like that, and it hurt. When he was done, he shoved off from me to his side of the bed and promptly went to sleep. He wasn’t even into cuddling.
The next morning, he asked if I had any plans for the day. I said no. I was supposed to meet my bestie, but he was busy planning a wedding. Fola asked me later if I wanted to go to the mall; he had visitors (the heterosexual kind, I gathered) coming over, and it seemed to me as though he wanted to get me out of the house. I said sure, that I would love to go to the mall. Soon, I was dressed and ready to leave. He gave me his ATM card and his pin, in case I wanted to buy stuff at the mall. I could not believe it. His ATM card and pin – who did that?!
When I texted my friends who knew about my trip about him giving me his ATM details, they were like, ‘Bade, run away!’ and ‘Shop till the card declines!’ I laughed at their virtual theatrics. Anyway, I got to the mall and all I bought with the card was a milkshake. Then I met up with an old friend. We hung out, had lunch at Chopstix, and he invited me to a party, an invitation I had to decline, because it was time to be getting on back to Fola’s place.
Back at Fola’s place, it was to find that his visitors were still around. I greeted them all and made straight to bed. I was sleeping when Fola came on top of me and started with his Christian Grey routine again; this time, there was spanking.
Later that night, I called my bestie to be around at Fola’s place, so we could hang out before I had to leave Abuja. The next morning, Sunday, he came over, and he and Fola conversed while I packed. Then it was time to leave. Fola transferred some money into my account and we shook hands again. At that time, it all felt quite business-like.
Then my bestie and I left to have breakfast and to gab about Fola and how he treated me well. I still had so much time before leaving for the airport, so I called one of my ‘stalkers’ – David. I call him that because he was desperately ‘in love’ with me. The feeling wasn’t mutual. He came to pick us up at Chopstix and asked what I came to do in Abuja. I told him I came to see a family friend. We went to have drinks, and then he started his usual spiel of how much he loved me, blah, blah. He tried to urge me to stay behind in Abuja one more day, so we could spend some time together. I told him I had to be back in school that day as my exeat expires on Sunday evening. It wasn’t as though David wasn’t attractive; what put me off committing to him was the issue of his sex role. He is Bottom (from what I’d gathered), but insists on being Top to me. I had no interest in that sort of messy bedmatics, so I simply strived to keep our acquaintanceship platonic.
After drinks, we started on a little tour, and all through the drive, he wouldn’t stop talking about how he loved me and how I didn’t care enough for him. The presence of my bestie didn’t deter his love confessions. He was being so dramatic. And because I didn’t want him to feel so neglected as to drop us in the middle of the road, I made all the right noises to placate him. Eventually, we left for the airport and we got there early. I checked in and returned to his car. He asked for a kiss. I wasn’t ready for another drama, so I conceded enough for us to find some secluded spot for me to kiss him.
Then it was time to go. I hugged my bestie, blew a kiss at David, and left to board my flight out of Abuja and back home.
Written by Bade