1: Thou shall practice Safe Sex whenever and wherever you see thouself. Always slip on that CD. But if there’s none available at that moment, then wank! A raw Kporo and Shobo must not make contact to avoid taking ARTs for the rest of your life.

2: Thou shall not let a Shobo/Kporo go to waste. Whenever you’re presented with an opportunity, don’t waste it, but do this while putting the Number 1 rule in practice. This is because a wasted opportunity may not repeat itself again for you.

3: Thou shall not pay any visit to any guy you meet online especially if he’s unemployed, a student, keeps asking you to come over, has a shady appearance, appears too good to be true, is from Badoo, doesn’t know his Role when you asked him at first, tells you it’s his first time… Ask such a fellow to visit you or better still…RUN!

4: Be good at whatever you do. If it is dick-sucking, suck it well. Make him nut. If it’s kissing, kiss well. Don’t bite or kiss with an unclean breath. If you’re Bottom, take that Kporo properly, whyne that waist well and make him gasp your name. If you’re Top, pound that Shobo well, make it memorable. Make him sing hallelujah songs. Keep this particular commandment well, and trust me, he will always come back for more.

5: Market Importation is good and healthy: Stop doing roro in your neighbourhood. It is always better to import your market from afar, but please make sure the market is genuine to avoid Kito in your house.

Keep these rules and thou will be fine and well.


I was chuckling halfway through reading the morning blogpost on Rainbowman.com. I gave an amused shake of my head. Eddie will not kill me. The sheer audacity of his updates, stark representations of the gay community, filled me with both appreciation for how his effort was forcing a conversation of LGBT in the Nigerian blogosphere, and dread for his safety. A homophobic commenter had one time furiously sworn to find the person behind the Rainbowman façade, and ‘teach him a lesson for being such a faggot.’ Of course, a great portion of Rainbowman’s fandom had descended on the commenter and ripped him to shreds, and Eddie had blithely dismissed the threat when the issue was brought up during one of our hangouts.

“The guy would have to be CIA material for him to successfully jump through all the hoops I’ve set up online to protect my identity,” he’d said as his fingers click-clacked on his laptop’s keyboard in the drafting of yet another contentious internet story.

Did you read this morning’s post on Eddie’s blog yet? Yinka pinged at me just then.

I nodded as I typed: Yes o. And on a Sunday, lol. I can already see like three outraged comments from apparent Christians who should be nodding in silent meditation of Bishop Oyedepo’s words instead of peeking into a gay blog.

Yinka pinged a laugh emoticon at me, before the words: Can you blame them? Rainbowman is a guilty pleasure for gay Nigerians and a forbidden fruit for the rest.

I tossed a ‘Lol’ at him.

Yinka: But on a more serious note, Eddie has just blown the proverbial breeze that has opened our collective TB nyashes.

Me: How so?

Yinka: If he doesn’t know his role when you asked him first? If he has a shady appearance? Tells you it’s his first time? Any kito guy reading that will change his MO.

Me: That’s the thing with dispensing relevant information. It educates everyone who stands to gain from it. And I do mean ‘Everyone.’

Yinka: Nawa o. Anyway sha –

Just then, another incoming message edged up the screen from beneath the chat page with Yinka. I saw the sender of the text, and an involuntary smile flitted across my lips.

Yinka: …Gotta run. We’re flying to Abuja from here. TTYL.

I switched the chat screen to read the new text. The sender was named Jaja – that was what he called himself, and the name that was on his BBM profile and Badoo account, where we met about a month ago. We’d chatted on Badoo for about three days before exchanging BBM contacts, and intensifying our acquaintanceship with the facility that the Blackberry Messenger provided. For about a week, we kept it light, neither of us divulging anything beyond a casual interest to be friends. And then, he suddenly announced that he had something to ask me.

What is it? I typed back then.

Jaja: Are you gay?

What sort of question is that? I fired back, affecting an indignation I didn’t really feel. My heart had started thumping at the question, as a sudden feeling of intrigue fired up the attraction I felt for the guy the first time I spotted his rakish smile and roguishly handsome face on his Badoo page.

Jaja: Don’t get me wrong, I’m into guys too. I just wanted to know if we are of like minds.

Me: You’re gay?

Jaja: Yea.

Me: Seriously?

Jaja: Yea, why?

Me: Nothing. I just – I’m surprised at the way you simply supplied that information to a virtual stranger.

Jaja: But you’re not a stranger to me, are you?

Me: Oh? What am I to you, do tell.

Jaja: You’re the guy I’m going to fuck one of these days.

The shockingly explicit message began the flurry of testosterone-charged, libidinous chatversations we started having over the next three weeks. By the second week, he’d started throwing out offhanded requests for us to hook up. When I acquiesced, he suggested a first time meet at some eatery in his area. When he mentioned that he stayed around Satellite Town, the thought of traversing the distance from Surulere over there proved too daunting for my desires. And I’d been putting off the invitation since then.

So you no wan make we see, eh? That was the text he presently sent to me.

Me: Of course I do. It’s just that your side is far.

Jaja: It’s not so far. Oya, today is Sunday. I know you’re not going to church. Let’s make it happen nah.

I sighed heavily. Then I typed back: What do you really want from me? Because I’m not looking for a casual fling, I want something serious.

Jaja: Can’t we talk about it after we’ve met and gotten to know each other?

Me: You seem to want just sex. I don’t, just so you know.

Jaja: You might change my mind, you know. I might see you and want you for keeps. He accompanied the message with a grinning emoji.

I chuckled, and didn’t respond for a short moment. I was contemplating this whole issue. Dating, sex, love, the men in my life – Kizito, with the chemistry we undoubtedly had, but who I couldn’t trust because of his questionable sexual orientation; Basil with his jaunty charm, and his two-year-old relationship; and Dotun, sweet and right, with the complications of being a coworker.

Jaja doesn’t have baggage now, does he? the omnipresent small voice whispered to me.

Yes, but really, how reliable, how true can an online hookup be? I thought. It had always been my contention that those who registered on dating sites were only looking for a quick lay or two, and nothing serious.

But you’re on Badoo, are you not, the voice chided. And look how seriously you want something serious.

“This boy, the day God will punish you is coming,” Tonia’s voice cut into my mentation.

I looked up in time to see her sashaying toward my vanity table. She was dressed for church in a simple dress of gold lame that clung to her figure and stopped just about her knees, drawing some attention to her stilettoed feet. She picked up the bottle of body lotion standing amidst my toiletries, and was squirting out the pink paste onto her palm when I said, “What are you doing with my cream?”

“I want to lubricate the dead skin of a corpse with it,” she returned with heavy sarcasm. “What does it look like I’m doing with it?” She’d started to rub the lotion about her palms and through the grooves of her fingers.

“If your own has finished, you should go buy another, and leave my stuff alone.”

“Stop trying to change the subject, mister.”

“The subject is you and the cream you won’t buy.”

“No, the subject is you and the church you have refused to go.” At my exaggerated sigh, she said, “No, no, I’m not here to carry on with what our parents have failed to achieve.” She turned to preen before the mirror, patting down a stray curl here, and flicking off nonexistent lint there. “All this shakara you’re doing for church now, when church will do its own shakara during your wedding time, you will know something.”

I rolled my eyes. “Is this how it’s going to be now? You get a ring on it, and suddenly everything is wedding this, wedding that.”

Her lips twisted into a smile as she gazed down at the splayed fingers of her left hand. The small diamond stud on her ring finger winked back at her. “Not bad for a romance that started on Facebook,” she said a tad wistfully.

“Wait, what? You and Dennis started on Facebook? I thought you said you met him in a bank lobby.”

She waved a self deprecating hand. “That’s just a story I cooked up because I was too embarrassed to admit to you guys that my love story had an online beginning. I mean, you and Fabian would have used that information to tease me to death back then.”

I chuckled. “True, we would have. So, wait, you guys met on Facebook and it blossomed to this?” I gestured at her. “That’s quite something. I’ve never had much faith in internet romance.”

“Why? Not everyone there is superficial. The internet is a community of the good and the bad, and don’t they say that love can be expected in unexpected places…”

I smiled at my sister. “When did you get so wise?”

“I am almost a missis now, Declan.” She twirled her left fingers in the air. “Wisdom comes when you graduate from one stage to another, no?” And with a gay laugh, she walked out of my room.

In the wake of her departure, my eyes fell back on my phone, on the open chat window. The digital print of the new text Jaja sent me was in darker letters than the ones I’d responded to.

It read: So are you coming?

My fingers sped over my keypad and I clicked back a reply: Yes.

Written by Pink Panther

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