JUST THAT ONE TIME

There was this guy that had been bugging me for sex for years, Dotun, and I had been turning him down every time. I just didn’t see it happening. We met on Facebook. He was attractive alright, a model even. But I found him rather slow upstairs. I am a stickler for wit and intelligent conversations, so I felt he’d have nothing to offer.

I graduated from the University and moved back to Calabar. He was still on my case, with hope that I’d move to Lagos and give him a good fucking. I laughed at his delusion. We still hadn’t met.

I was posted to Taraba for my NYSC. I started the service there, but my parents would have none of it. They had me moved without my consent to Lagos. Dotun was happy. He begged to meet me and I kept posting him.

A year and a half afterwards, I’d secured a job and moved to my own apartment. His persistence wore me the hell out, and so I invited him over. We talked, or rather, he talked and I listened. I was bored, but I did find him immensely attractive. Night had fallen, and there was no light. The room was hot, so I told him to take his clothes off. He did so; I could tell he was a little shy, which i found odd, because as a model, shouldn’t taking clothes off at the drop of a hat be part of the job description? His clothes came off, and he laid back on the bed and we were silent for about three minutes. The longest three minutes ever.

A LOT LIKE LOVE

FOREWORD: Everybody says I have to say something grand or do something drastic about yesterday’s furor. But I don’t. Not really. I just have a few things to say. No one should let his sense of self revolve around another person’s negativism. If you have an issue with someone’s comment, the ‘Like-Dislike’ button has been provided against every comment for you to express yourself. 🙂 And please, I can’t stress this enough, no more catfights. Every follower of this blog is a grown man (or woman?) and shouldn’t use the anonymity provided by the internet to act out his inner child.

Secondly, this blog is home to all forms of art and expression of the Nigerian gay man. ALL FORMS, as long it is not rubbish. For those expecting to have an intellectual orgasm anytime they click on here, I’m sure there’s a blog or two out there that celebrates Wole Soyinka and Chinua Achebe you can be a follower to. This forum is about expression of self; bear in mind that your ‘self’ isn’t always going to be someone else’s ‘self’ the next time you feel like pouring out your vitriol.

Finally, anyone who expects to read a certain kind of thing should write it. If you want unpredictability, write it. If it’s depth you want to read, write it. Chimamanda Adichie once said: ‘I write what I want to read.’ Kindly stop kvetching about other people’s efforts and write what you want to read. Write. Submit. I’ll publish.

Well, seems I said more than a few things. Here’s to hoping we can all be grownups thenceforth. Yes, I know, I can only hope. Lol. Anyway, here’s the feature story. It’s a non fictional piece by a Kito Diaries-ian, Queer Mike, who is currently recovering from heartbreak and disillusionment. The things wanting what others are not prepared to give you can do to a person. Read the story below.

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The dawn of that long awaited Tuesday, came with the chill of a heavy rainfall that lingered from the night before. I did a double check on my well packed luggage; just to be sure no item on my list was being left out, with enough clothes to last for my two week visit to Lagos. I’d completed my semester exams the day before. I’d spent sleepless nights studying, and losing weight, just to see myself make it through the exams.

Weeks ago, while I was studying, my phone buzzed. I checked to see I’d gotten a Whatsapp message. It was from an ex-lover, Peter. I was surprised by that. Ever since he relocated to Nevada in the States, he’s hardly kept in touch with me. I nursed no grudge at all for that; after all, what we had was a one-night-thingie two years back, a quick shag during one of his business trips to Enugu from Lagos, one that eventually turned into a friendship. And we kept in touch even after he left Enugu. And then he left the country for the States and we lost touch.