I made a friend a while ago. At first, we were just instagram acquaintances, liking each other’s pictures and dropping the occasional comments. Then we moved over to the DM, and ultimately to BBM, and were soon speaking to each other on the phone.

Our friendship moved quickly, because – on my own end – in addition to being incredibly good looking, this guy (who I’ll just call Alex) is also a genuinely warm and sensitive person. He’d always have a kind thing to say at the end of my long day, an encouraging word if he perceived I was down. I soon found myself struggling not to infer something else from his niceness. Everytime we signed off a chat, I’d find myself telling me that he’s the way he is because he’s a good person not a gay person.

And then we started talking on the phone.

I have a friend who must have taken a class in Chizzie’s Dynamics of a Gay Man 101 course, because this friend’s presumptions of the gay living often borders on the ridiculous. He’s a firm believer that when you’re gay, you just must be different from other men; the way you dress, walk, talk, eat and interact – your entire attitude is somehow strongly affected by your sexuality. And that belief, he says, is what makes him have such a strong gaydar.

Well, I don’t always agree with him, but during my first phone conversation with Alex, I was startled when I realized that I was listening for any gay markers in his voice. LOL! I was listening to his intonations, the way words rolled out of his tongue, how rounded his vowels were – basically, I was looking for this man’s elocution to tell me if he was not straight. The moment I realized I was doing that, ic huckled, mentally reined myself back in and refocused on our conversation.

Again, I told myself, he is just a good guy, not a gay guy…

…Good until proven gay.

Then the day came when I was home on a week day. I’d been indoors all day, reading a novel when there wasn’t light and watching American Horror Story when there was. I got around to taking my bath quite late in the day, around 4.30pm. After my bath, I was reluctant to get back into any clothing, so I simply returned to bed naked. PHCN had taken the light again and I was thinking of doing some writing. But first, I had to call Alex, because I’d suddenly remmebered that I owed him a call after I missed two of his.

I called him and we began chatting about banal stuff, from work to the holidays to family. He has a sense of humour, and a point came when something he said had me giggling.

When I didn’t stop laughing for several seconds, he said, “This one you’re just laughing like this, as if someone is pressing you there…”

My brows shot up at that. Easy, I said to myself, that still doesn’t prove anything. With another laugh, I objected that there was no one with me, that I was in fact alone on my bed.

“Alone and naked,” I said, slipping in the ‘naked’ to nudge a reaction from him.

“It’s a lie,” he said. “You don’t sound like someone who’s alone.”

“I’m serious, I am,” I replied, still laughing.

“Oya show me.”

“Show you what?”

“A picture to prove me wrong.”

Still chickling and feeling indulgent, I terminated the call and proceeded to take a selfie, which I sent to him via BBM; it was a picture of my face smiling at the camera over my pillow.

He pinged back with a message: I’m sure there’s someone by the side who was touching you when we were talking. I can imagine you people are naked and in bed.

Me: I am naked and in bed. Alone!

Him: Raise your camera up above your head. I need to be sure of that.

Me: Sure of what? my bare ass or the bare bed?

Him: Err…everything.

Mister Alex, don’t be so naughty, I amdonished with a laughing emoticon.

When you finish speaking English, I’ll be waiting, he replied.

Sp I lifted my hand above my head and snapped the part of the bed beside me, sending him a picture of sheets and my duvet.

He was quick to respond: Is that what I asked you to do?

Me: Uh, yes na.

Him: No, it’s not.

Me: What did you ask me to do biko?

Him: Carry your hand up. Raise the camera above your head and snap the way you were in the first pic.

Me: So you DO want to see my ass.

He responded with a smiley rolling his eyes.

Me: Just say so and I’ll gladly snap it and send.

Another smiley was pinged back, the one with a straight face.

Okay then, I typed to him and shrugged, prepared to get back to my writing.

He must have perceived my resolve, because he typed: Okay yes. Now please send it.

And I clicked my camera, got a good shot of my derriere and sent the pic to him.

This led to a flurry of banter between us, surrounding the make-up of my butt – the hair on it, the scar, the size – and somehow, we made it through this chatversation without him specifically marking down his sexual orientation. I kept waiting for him to say something specific, even though, at this time, I had all I needed – I mean, what straight man is ever interested in the ass of another man?

But it was as though he’d had practice circumnavigating the choppy waters of sexual conversations, because he never made any reference to his sexuality.

So, I decided to force an answer out of him. And I asked.

He replied: I don’t do boys please.

I was taken aback by that. I didn’t believe him for one second, and normally, this kind of bullshit would make me cut a guy off instantly. But in his case, I wanted to know more. I was curious by him.

So I asked: Why then did you ask – no, persist that I send you a picture eof my bottom?

Him: I’m just a very curious person.

Me: I see.

Him: What are you thinking?

Me: That it is odd for a straight guy to want to see the ass of another man.

His only response was: Lol, okay.

Me: So that oddity happened simply because you were curious?

The question was heavy with the ‘Don’t bullshit me’ tone, and he must have caught on to it, because his reply was an admission of sorts.

Him: Look, I know wassup, alright? I’ve tried it before. But yo, I can’t come to terms with it. That’s it. However, I will deny I said this any day.

I actually laughed to myself as I read these words, because I couldn’t believe I was interacting with someone so clearly determined to revile a part of who he is. I mean, I know these people abound in my midst. Stories about them have been told here on Kito Diaries. Some commenters have even unmasked themselves as inherently non-accepting of themselves.

Alex continued: Some people simply choose not to accept what is. I haven’t quite come to terms with this g-thing. It’s not something I’ve accepted so it’s hard for me to tell anyone, ‘Oh yeah, I like guys too, just as I like girls.’

Are you sure you like girls? I wanted to respond.

But I didn’t, because he sounded bridled and I didn’t want to push him away. I saw an opportunity to slowly and – hopefully – surely work on someone in a conflict, to get him to see how much easier it would be for him to simply accept himself.

And so, even though the rest of that conversation had him using words like ‘g-thing’, ‘it’ and ‘this’ to refer to homosexuality, I prayed for patience, remembered his fine face and persevered.

I’d introduce him to Kito Diaries, but I knew I’d be telling this story here. LOL!

Written by Pink Panther

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