There. That’s my caption. What’s yours?
The sparkle in your eyes
The fullness of your lips
The radiance in your smile
The character in your face
The smell of your hair
Your breath on my neck
The touch of your hand
Your heartbeat on my bosom
That strength in your stare
Your contours that take my breath away Continue reading
I once updated a story (fiction) here about a Nigerian guy who found love with his wealthy European school-mate, who he met abroad during studies. As a refresher, the story is titled ‘THE WHITE CHRISTMAS’ (Click HERE to read). I gave the story a happily-ever-after finish, and some people, commenters and friends, scoffed at that. The general contention was that African gay men don’t do love. And they certainly do not do happily-ever-afters. A slew of friends bombarded my BBM with lectures to prove that point. If it is not kowtowing to what society expects of all men, a friend of mine argued, it is the fact that we are not fashioned to think of men being with men for the long haul. It’s just not in our psyche to buy into the concept of gay marriage, or anything as remotely long-lasting as that.
I disagreed then. I still disagree now. I’m a romantic, not an incurable one though, but I believe that societal demands notwithstanding, it is possible for an average African gay man or lesbian to find someone, love someone and stick with that someone, undisturbed with what society expects.
Yea, well, maybe not in this continent, I’ll concede that. But it is possible.
A friend of mine who schools in a more exotic part of Africa recently told me the story you’ll read below about love in the gaybourhood. It’s a short one. But something I felt I should share.
Read and share your thoughts. Continue reading
It was February 2013. I’d just graduated from a university in South-Eastern Nigeria. No lectures, studies or exams to worry about – that felt like bliss to me. There was the occasional hook-up, but I was essentially into enjoying my company most of the time.
By the end of February, I was notified to proceed to my alma mater university to pick up my NYSC call-up letter. At this time, I felt a bit of nervousness due to the fact that my call-up number was among a batch of numbers that had previously had some issues. I was worried that these issues had made it impossible for me to influence my place of posting. I arrived in school in this state of anxiety and trepidation. I so did not like that I’d had to leave my place of posting up to the Fates. The last thing I wanted was to get thrown to any such far-flung places like the North.
Upon arrival, I was greeted with the sight of a vast sea of persons who had also come for the same purpose. My spirits sank as I realized that this was going to be another long, stressful day filled with lots of pushing, shoving and bureaucratic hassles.
This is going to take all day, I thought with growing despondency. Continue reading
I accepted my sexuality five years ago, and I would say that I haven’t been so lucky with love. Life has thrown shit at me and I somehow bounce back and carry on. But when it comes to the heartbreaks I’ve suffered, I’m not entirely sure I bounce back from those. There are memories that forever linger. I can only suppress them for a while because they keep lurking inside my heart, threatening to overtake me.
And these failed relationships have made me set up rules and standards that many perceive to mean I’m overly prudish or dramatic; rules like ‘I’m not gonna date a bisexual,’ ‘He mustn’t be my age-mate,’ ‘He must be this and that,’ ‘It must happen this way and that way,’ and so on and so forth. And because of my rigidity, I ended up being celibate for a year and a few months. I had to stick to my rules, because even though I am cool and amazing, I am emotionally vulnerable. Continue reading
How is it fair that two gorgeous men like this can look so hot and so in love and be enjoying themselves by themselves, hmm? Oh well, the gay couple above shared pictures of themselves sharing ‘love’ time at South Beach. That light-skinned one (the madam, I’d like to think) sure looks deliriously happy. I’d be happy too, if I had a hunk like his squeezing me in his powerful arms. #sigh
More pictures below. Continue reading
The great part of this break-up is that, quite unlike other break-ups where I would wail and tear my hair over it, I was much happier this time. Happy, not because it wasn’t a great love story (of course it was, with amazing sex), but because this time, I saw the end from the beginning.
It all began on Twitter; there was this tweep whose twitter profile I’d been stalking for close to a year. Eventually, we added each other on BBM, exchanged pictures, and did the necessary introductions. He wasn’t so good looking, but he had a good sense of humor (at least he picked a struggle, lol). We eventually got to see in person, and the fact that we had a lot in common fueled my interest. We ended the day with his surprise kiss, an amazing kiss which blew me away.
We kept on with our acquaintanceship, keeping up with each other’s daily activities, stealing time out of our busy schedules to see a movie, or be together. And the sex – when we got around to that, it was great. Again and again, he proved to be a great kisser (Have to give him that credit). Continue reading
I opened my eyes and the first thing they settled on was the big black head of my roommate, with his saliva drooping from his mouth as he took a deep breath, turned and stretched on the bed and continued snoring. I lifted my head from my pillow and put my hand under to pull my wristwatch out. I pressed the button and the light came on. 3:26 AM. I put the watch back and tried to go back to sleep. I couldn’t.
It had been two weeks since the incident with Umar. It was Ibrahim Abba who caught us; another hot Muslim boy that I had been crushing on since we were in SS1. I still feel my heart race whenever I think of that night. The shock on his face. His mouth agape. His eyebrows furrowed. Speechless, mostly from the fact, I suspect, that Umar, his Muslim brother, could be indulging in such an ‘evil’ act. He didn’t say anything thereafter; he just shook his head continuously and stalked out of the room.
All the thoughts of terror that could ever be thought were already in a queue, barraging my mind, one after the other. I didn’t even know which to focus on first. The reaction of my parents to the expulsion I would get when Ibrahim reports us? Or their reaction when they heard the reason for the expulsion? How would my juniors look at me when this news became public? How would my mates regard me? I was finished. I didn’t think my heart had ever beaten so fast before that evening.
Since Ibrahim hadn’t said anything before leaving the room, I didn’t even know if he was going to report us or not. I sat there on my bed and put my head in my hands. I couldn’t bear to look at Umar’s face, the guilt of how destroyed he’d surely look would have killed me. Continue reading
Chima’s first few of college abroad had been very good – the classes, his classmates, the few friends he made, everything was idyllic and exciting, a far cry from humdrum life he led as a student of Imo State University back home in Nigeria. And the excitement didn’t end with his studies; at the end of his every day, he always returned home to his flat-mate, who was so gorgeous he took Chima’s breath away. Ralph, that was his name, as white as Chima was black, with incredible Nordic good looks – tall, bronzed and blond. Right from the first day they started living together, Chima and Ralph had become close friends, not so close that Chima took any liberties with Ralph. He had only been in abroad for a few months and was still finding it hard to adjust to the lack of inhibition that characterized the lives of the gay men here. And so, he contented himself with swallowing hard every time Ralph strutted around their home bare-chested, before dashing off into the privacy of his bedroom to wank feverishly to the image of his gorgeousness in his head.
But Ralph was intuitive – and gay. One morning, he’d simply stepped inside the shower where Chima was taking his bath, and said, “I know what I’m about to do is something you’ve been wanting very badly from me. So, here goes.” And he leaned forward, through the curtain of hot water and kissed Chima. For a split second, he had stood there, immobile, his lips unmoving as Ralph kissed him. Then, he gave in and passionately kissed him back. For several minutes, they strained against each other, kissing and grasping at their bodies, then they grabbed hold of each other’s cocks and under the slippery influence of soap and water, wanked each other to come.
That happened two days ago. Nothing happened again. Some awkwardness set in, and Chima felt miserable. Continue reading