Once upon a time, (a few years back actually), I went to this gay bar in Warri, Nigeria. It wasn’t really a gay bar, but walking into the bar and seeing a lot of limp-wristed guys in shorts, really tight pants and skinny jeans, I don’t know what else to call it. However, straight guys who didn’t know about the reputation of the place patronized it. At one time, a guy came to share condoms at the joint, saying he was part of an LGBT support group in Nigeria. So, it’s safe to say the club’s customer base was 80 percent gay. But recent events – kito experiences – have made the attendance drop drastically. I haven’t been there in a while myself. Perhaps it is back to its former glory.
Anyway, I was actually dragged to the place that evening by my friends, Chris and Tracy; Tracy brought her girlfriend along. (Yea, Chris is gay and Tracy is a lesbian). We got to the club, took a table at a secluded section of the room and placed our orders for drinks. From our vantage position, we could see everyone else but we could hardly be seen. I was enjoying my cold bottle of Smirnoff Ice while my friends sipped on stronger drinks, when this guy with a Patoranking/Wizkid kinda swag walked in. he had on an oversized football jersey, jeans hanging grown-man low around his derriere, sneakers, face cap, gold chain and everything else that reeked of intense masculinity.
Come and see me biting my lips and staring. I noticed he had no facial hair, no beard. It was nighttime outside and the lights were really dim inside the club, so I couldn’t make out clearly his features, but I was sure he was cute. I mean, with all that swag? He had to be.
He seemed pretty popular around here, as evidenced by him hugging and shaking hands with a lot of the club’s patrons. He walked right past us to the counter and ordered for a beer and a pack of cigarettes. Minutes later, he was on his third bottle and was smoking his second cigarette like a pro. (I wonder how guys do it though). His cigarette smoking sort of turned me, what with how his slender fingers held the stick so delicately to his lips, and the way he tilted his head to blow rings of grey smoke into the air. I soon found myself thinking about how good sex with him would be. I ran my eyes hungrily over his seated frame and thought about he would pin me to the wall and ram into me with my legs hanging midair, pausing only to toss me about like a banana peel. Images of the both of us naked and sweaty kept circling in my head. There was something about the way he gripped the bottle of beer and guided it to his mouth to take large gulps that showed a kind of control, like he could break me with one hand.
I was horny and got a little hard as these thoughts whirled about in my mind. I had not had sex in a while and I needed some good, hard loving. And this guy right here looked like he would do the job really well.
So I started to do all I could to get his attention. I pulled out all the tricks I knew, pitching my laughter high enough for him to turn his head to our table and batting my eyelids at him whenever our gazes crossed. I even danced around his table for a few minutes, all in a frantic bid to get his attention. My attempts proved futile. He didn’t even stir, show any indication that he was acknowledging my presence around him. I left my friends and switched tables to be closer to him. I kept trying to make eye contact with him but that just wouldn’t work.
I was flummoxed and began to wonder: Was I that bad? Was he even gay at all? Which kain winsh be this one? About thirty minutes later, I finally gave up and rejoined my friends at our table. However, I remained hopeful for a miracle. I waited. But the wait seemed like it would be longer than the Israelites’ journey to the Promised Land, and the hoe spirit in me was doing splits and cart wheels. So I was restless.
My friend, Chris likes rough guys more than anyone I know. If you sag your pants and have your belt buckled below your ass cheeks, you are instantly Chris’ hero. He will chase you to hell and back. He gets turned on by guys who fight a lot, especially those that break bottles and draw blood while fighting. So, why he hadn’t shown any interest in this man of my dreams got me a bit curious. He was engrossed in a conversation with another guy who had just joined our table, so I gave him a little nudge and gestured for him to come closer so I could whisper what I had to say to him.
“Are you not seeing that guy sitting over there in a black jersey?” I queried.
“What guy?” he asked, glancing in the direction I was pointing to.
“That one very close to the statue, black jersey, white sneakers.”
“Ehen – what about him?” he said around a chuckle.
“See question o. Are you blind? Can’t you see how hot he is, just the way you like them – boyish with swag.” I couldn’t believe he was being dense at a time like this.
But he didn’t look stupid. He was very amused; a grin was starting to crease his face as he said, “Wait, I’m coming.” He was trying to stifle a laugh as he turned to Tracy. “Tracy, come and hear o!” He waved at our other friend, who was preoccupied with her hands and whatever she was doing with them to her girlfriend under the table. “Tracy!” Chris called again.
She focused on us with some effort. “What?”
“Tichi said he likes that guy in a black jersey and wants to get in bed with him,” Chris said with flourish.
“What guy?” Tracy asked, turning to look in the direction Chris had pointed. “That one?” she clarified as she pointed.
Chris nodded, very much like a child who had been asked if he wanted candy; he looked very titillated now, still struggling to contain his laughter.
And now, Tracy was struggling to contain her laughter too. She looked at me and then at Chris, and the two of them gave up, bursting into laughter simultaneously. For about a minute, they laughed hard, obviously at me, causing me to feel very self conscious. Tracy’s girlfriend caught on as well and joined in the laughter; she apparently was in on the joke. At this time, I was still fresh out of the gay egg, and so I thought I had done something I wasn’t supposed to.
“What is it nau?” I snapped then. “You all should just stop and say something joor. Is he Bottom or what?”
That set them off into another paroxysm of laughter.
“So, he’s Bottom then? How would I have known?” I said defensively. “And it’s not like you haven’t fallen for a Bottom before,” I said accusingly to Chris. “Was it not you that sent transport fare to your fellow sister and switched off your phone when he got here and you saw him sashaying like Naomi Campbell? Abeg, abeg, abeg, go and –”
“Tichi, are you blind?” Tracy interrupted my burgeoning tirade, while still laughing and almost in tears.
“What?” I rounded on her. “He is hot joor –”
“That’s not a he!” she interrupted me again. “That’s a girl!”
My jaw dropped. My friends erupted into another round of laughter.
“What?” I spluttered as Tracy’s words hit me like a punch to the groin.
‘’Yes o!” Tracy managed through her mirth. “A girl! As in vagina! Pussy! No dick!” She said each word with heavy emphasis. She turned in her seat. “Let me call her sef.”
My mouth was still agape as I watched Tracy signal to the guy – sorry, girl, whose attention she’d caught.
My love interest of some seconds ago rose from her seat and moved toward us with that little bounce-and-fall-back walk a lot of boys had. She definitely did it better than most guys. She got to our table and exchanged greetings with my friends. I merely sat there and watched her. With proximity, it was clear to me. My Patoranking was actually a girl in a jersey and sneakers. Her boobs were so small; I had seen guys with much bigger bosoms. And as she gestured and talked, there was not a single mannerism that gave off femininity.
Soon, Tracy was done telling her what had transpired at our table and she turned to me with a laugh.
“Na why you just dey circle me since?” she said, her voice just a few octaves higher than a male’s voice. “I no mind o, we fit still run package.” She flashed me a grin.
I sat there, not moving an inch. I felt flush with total mortification. My hot stud had a veejayjay! I could not believe it. My horniness disappeared right then and for the rest of the night.
Till this day, my friends still taunt me over that night, about how once upon a time, I had the hots for a lesbian.
Written by Tichifierce (RuPaul’s First Daughter)