This year has been shitty for me relationship-wise. Really shitty!
It usually goes thus: Bain meet’s boy. Boy is straight. Boy knows Bain is gay. Boy doesn’t have a problem with it. There is friendship. Some fuckery happens. Bain ends friendship.
That has been the pattern since this year. Nine beautiful friendships fucked because of…
I’m beating about the bush too much. Let me just tell you what happened.
Abiodun is my intensely hot co-worker. Sexy fine specimen of a perfect man, he is.
Before I came out to him, I actually thought he was gay. Stereotypes sha…fuck!
He was cool with me, almost too cool. But he made it super-clear that he doesn’t do men.
I respected that and maintained my distance. But here’s the thing: Abiodun was homophobic, that subtle kind of homophobia. But this attitude was never directed at me. He always made it known to me that I was too nice to hate.
In fact, I was so above his prejudice that I was in the zone where I got all the nice compliments.
“You are looking hot today, bro. No homo…”
“Come let me hug you joor. No homo…”
“You fine die, no homo…”
No homo – that quickly became his favorite word combo.
I initially thought he said that to kill any idea that may be dancing around in my head concerning him and me, since I’m openly gay and stuff. I took no issue with that. He was my friend, the closest person to me at my work place. It was all good.
Abiodun was that kind of straight friend who liked to talk about his sexcapades with women. He’d always find the time to give me the hot gist on what he’d been up to with various girls. Always interesting gist, I must say. Enough to hammer into my head the truth of his heterosexuality.
All that changed soon enough.
That evening, we settled on closing at a later time because we had too much work to fit into frames, wrap and prepare for delivery the next day. The workload was crazy. Abiodun and I were the only ones who did those kinds of tasks. So it was sealed that we would be going home late that day.
It was just the both of us left. Everyone else had left.
As we worked, he started with another one of his tales about his sexual conquests, a story which I half-listened to. Then he stopped at some point and asked me to tell him about my boyfriend because I barely talked about queer stuff to him. I basically had nothing to tell him because I had no boyfriend or casual hookup story to talk about.
So I shrugged in response, an indication that I had nothing to say. and we went back to working in silence.
Then he paused midway from finishing what he was doing, and the next thing he did was so swift, it left me too startled to react. He turned to me, grabbed the back of my neck and planted a kiss on my mouth. It was so unexpected that in the first few seconds, I didn’t react. I didn’t pull away or kiss him back. But his lips claimed mine insistently, urging me to respond. And so, I did. We kissed for about fifteen minutes, and all the while, my mind was racing frantically for answers as I tried to figure out what to do about this. Slap him? No, too dramatic. Push him away? No, I liked the kiss. Don’t kiss him back? Well, too late for that.
Eventually, he broke the kiss and then looked intensely into my eyes for a few seconds, before saying in a low tone, “No Homo. I just wanted to know whether it tastes better than kissing a girl.” He waited a beat and added, “It does.”
And this was the ninth time this year that a supposedly straight friend would kiss me or try to have sex with me.
And frankly I was tired of it!
People just tend to drag me into their mess. It’s almost like I attract straight men. And I’ve had it with that. Knowing who you are is a very important step to having sanity, and then accepting yourself is another. But hating on others and turning around to do to them the same thing for which you hate them for is wickedness that I can’t deal with. Abiodun was homophobic, however subtle it was, and yet he’d kissed me. I couldn’t deal with that.
And because of that, I stopped being friends with him. The warmth I used to interact with him vanished after that evening. My responses to his questions became clipped and monosyllabic, and I endeavored to end any casual conversations between us. Straight, gay, bicurious, testing-testing – whatever he was or was dealing with should have nothing to do with me, and by my actions after he kissed me, I was sure I’d passed the message across.
Written by Bain