Guys Whisper The Highs And (Mostly) Lows Of Online Dating

Gay dating websites can be an awesome way to connect, but can also be a real drag. Messages go unanswered, hours seem wasted scrolling through endless profiles and something that’s supposed to hook you up leaves you feeling as isolated as ever.

Below is a Whisper round-up of revelations made by men who are either disillusioned or ambivalent toward online dating.w1 Continue reading

LOVE AND SEX IN THE CITY (Episode 35)

Blog_Love And Sex In The City 02I woke up in a cocoon of contentment and warmth that was made especially more delicious by the chill that snaked its way around the room from the Sunday morning rain falling outside. My eyes glided lazily to the body a few centimetres away from me on the bed, and I felt a catch in my breath when my gaze fell on Bryson. He wasn’t one for cuddles, and so, lay on his back, one arm flung out, and the other placed on a chest that rose and fell with the steady rhythm of his slumberous breathing. His face was slightly tilted in my direction, and his sooty lashes lay like shadows above the fullness of his lips, which begged to be kissed.

Staring at him, I began to feel a stirring in my groin. It surprised me that after spending half the night making love to him, the mere sight of him sleeping could still arouse me.

Following the sensation of desire was a suffusion of warmth in my chest. And as I looked at him, I realized with a sinking feeling that I was beginning to fall in love with Bryson. Continue reading

LOVE AND SEX IN THE CITY (Episode 34)

Blog_Love And Sex In The City 02“Nawa o!” Ekene exclaimed, punctuating his words with a snap of his fingers. “Adebola went too far abeg. What nonsense.”

“It’s ridiculous, really, guys who will go to any great lengths to be bad just for another guy,” Yinka said as he steered his car past the gateway of the Maison Fahrenheit Hotel.

“Straight people do much worse in their relationships,” Ekene rejoined tersely. “Drama due to jealousy is not exclusive to gay relationships.”

“I’m not saying it is,” Yinka said. “And I’m not trying to go the ‘he’s a man like you, you shouldn’t fight over him’ route. I’m simply saying that if it’s me, gay or straight, I would never stress myself over another human being.”

“Yea well, you’ve never been in love,” Ekene said. When Yinka opened his mouth to speak, he quickly added, “And don’t even wave that your ‘I’m in a relationship’ flag. What you and Dayo are doing is a joke, as far as I’m concerned.” Continue reading

A Piece Of Me Dies Each Day I’m In A Relationship

g48He is in his high chair and I’m angry at him for being selfish. I become very anxious with his perceived incorporeality. Rising up inside of me is a piece of my heart that is angry and impatient.

Then I catch his eyes, bright and bubbling with laughter, and that angry little piece of me dies.

Weeks pass when I’m apart and far from him. The distance prompts him to direct some of his attention elsewhere, and I am made to feel left out and ignored. Days like this, it’s terrifying to watch him go someplace I can’t follow, a sharp turnaround from those days when he was constantly available to me.

Then I remember the good times we shared, how much I really mean to him, and in ways that I can’t imagine, the feeling of betrayal dies slowly. Continue reading

EXTRA BAGGAGE

151-53919new_extra_baggage_600x260Author’s Note: This story is a mixture of both fiction and reality but based on recent events surrounding a person who meant something to me at one point. Any resemblance in characters or misrepresentation of places or events is highly regrettable.

January 5th 2015

My phone rang. The Caller ID read ‘Gandalf.’

“I was just thinking about you now sef. I planned on calling later tonight,” I said. “I thought you’d be busy with all your fellow wizards or something.”

“Good, save your airtime, as I’ve got one better. When can you come home?” Gandalf asked.

“Hian! Just like that? Where would I even get a ticket at this time of the year to begin with mbok ette?” I asked.

“Just answer the question and stop asking me stupid questions. Did you think I hadn’t considered that?”

“Don’t be such a grumpy old man,” I said. “The original Gandalf was never grumpy, plus it’s bad for your skin and can cause wrinkles. I’m your only gay son, so I know.” Continue reading

MY QUESTION ABOUT CHEATING

g44I’ve never dated a man whose faithfulness I couldn’t vouch for. But, more importantly, it has never bothered me what my boyfriends might get up to behind my back. I asked my first boyfriend, M, to cheat if he wanted to, if sex with me wasn’t great. Actually, it wasn’t at first – poor him! We were age mates but he was about eight years ahead in sexual experience. It was hard enough being a learner; it was worse feeling like I had to play catch-up to his level in the quickest possible time. (Tick-tock!) So, he had my permission to do as he pleased behind me. As long as we kept the relationship going; emotionally, I still needed him, and I know he loved me.

He turned down the bonanza, the idiot. Said he wouldn’t do it unless it was a threesome. I shrugged: his choice, his loss.

Now, years of watching people hurt and feel betrayed over being “cheated on” has left me with more questions than conclusions. These questions are based on an understanding of Love and Sex, and although the two are best together, this is not always the case. In English: two people can love without sex or “too much” of it (as in the case of my parents who I doubt still rip each other’s clothes off every chance they get); and two people can have regular sex without caring about each other (as in No Strings Attached fun).

My dictionary says cheating is when you secretly have sex with someone who’s not your partner. Continue reading

FLEETING DESIRE

med911021This is the debut piece of KDian, La-Coozee, a short work of fiction. Read and enjoy.

*

At first, I thought him odd. The easy way he smiled, the breezy cologne he had on, the garish stripes on his shirt all contributed to my perception of him. And then, in a hoarse voice scented by Mentos, he turned to me in the bus and said, “I’m Fintan.”

In all the months of our relationship, months when we had hasty sex in my Obalende flat, months when he drove me to Shoprite in his vanilla-scented car, months when he cooked spaghetti garnished with Titus sardines for me, it did not occur to me to ask what his name meant, to ask him about the necessary things, to tell him my fears.

Perhaps that was why we broke up, or there were other things I would never be able to identify. Continue reading

Let’s Discuss…About Open Relationships

Gay LoveIt’s a question of which is better: an exclusive relationship or an open one. Sounds like a no-brainer, right? The answer is pretty obvious. I mean, who wants to share his man with another?

I was having a dialogue with a good friend of mine on the issue of gay relationships, and he expressed an opinion on this, which I’d like to share with y’all. Read below:

‘Seriously, think about it. Exclusive relationships, especially in the gaybourhood, even more especially in Nigeria, on the average, have a shelf life of two months. If you have on the very rare occasion dated someone EXCLUSIVELY for a year, you become a miracle.

‘Open relationships on the other hand, at least the few ones I know of, strangely last longer than the exclusive ones. Think about it. I mean, it should not be! Yet, it is! Continue reading

LOVE AND SEX IN THE CITY (Episode 29)

Blog_Love And Sex In The City 02When I woke up on that Monday morning, a week after the Sunday fiasco at Yinka’s place, I could hear Bryson in the shower. I remained lying in bed without moving, deliciously tired and content. There was a warm, wonderful glow inside me, and I didn’t want to move in case it went away.

I could see from the luminous dial of the clock perched on the nightstand that it was some minutes to 6am. And the glom of the dawn cloaked the inside of the room, not entirely hiding its unfamiliarity from me. In the two weeks since I began officially dating Bryson, last week was when I first visited him at his place, and subsequently began spending the night frequently with him, leaving for work from his bed. It was longer, more tedious commute, from Festac to Yaba, but the prospect of the passion expended on his sheets at night and the contentment that came from waking to his morning musk far outweighed the inconvenience of striving through the hectic traffic of the morning.

“You’re just in the honeymoon phase,” Yinka said when we talked on the phone on Thursday night, the third night I spent at Bryson’s place. “Everything with and about him seems so easy now, so blissful. It gives you the fortitude to simply breeze through everything else. Your parents could disown you now, and you wouldn’t mind. After all, you’ve got another daddy giving you what you truly need.”

I could imagine the impish expression on his face as he said that, and I roared with laughter at the imagination and his words. Continue reading

LOVE AND SEX IN THE CITY (Episode 27)

Blog_Love And Sex In The City 02I swayed in my seat as the Keke-Napep swerved rightward to circumvent a pothole on the centre of the road. The breeze from the warm Sunday morning fanned across my face as I typed away on the keypad of my Blackberry.

It’d been exactly two weeks since that other Sunday morning of my near kito experience, since the day I met Bryson. And all of those two weeks had been unimaginably idyllic. I was happy, very happy, the kind of happy that R&B crooners talked about in their songs, all because of the reemergence of Bryson in my life, and I was on my way to Yinka’s place to reacquaint myself with my friends and their lives, which I’d unintentionally stayed away from the past two weeks.

The speed of the Keke-Napep began to drop as the driver drew up toward a mild hold-up. A big truck, some vehicles ahead of us, was gradually pulling out onto the main road from an exit ramp, and its slow progress was causing a delay in the traffic. The lull in the strength of the draft allowed for the dewing of mild perspiration across my forehead, and I began fanning the magazine in my hand across my face, leaning back against the well-worn leather of the passenger seat.

Staring sightlessly at the traffic in front, I let my mind get transported to that Sunday two weeks ago. Continue reading