“Konji na ba… Konji na ba… Konji na bastard!”
Dremo must have been in my shoes when he sang that song, because damn! It’d been just a few days past that I got dicked while being high as fuck, and most likely eventually slept off with spunk in my ass – and here I was, feeling like I’d been celibate for years.
Well, the body wants what it wants.
I try not to take my phone to the toilet, as I might end up spending way too much time in there. I mean, wouldn’t y’all agree with me that taking a dump while being on your phone is some sort of therapy? That depends on the kind of toilet sha. The toilets in my school are extra and always sparkling clean, as if they’re newly constructed and unused.
That day, while I was doing my business, I decided to open my phone, and there it was, beckoning on me to open it. My Grindr app! And I couldn’t resist.
It wasn’t long after I logged in, before I saw a profile that had plenty, plenty things on it. However, one word jumped out at me – ‘African’ – and I was immediately interested in getting to know the person. So, I messaged him.
We soon got chatting (after I left the toilet, of course), and after some time, I got to know that he was from Zimbabwe and that he was staying in the campus. We decided to meet. I got directions and soon found myself at his apartment, a visit that had me asking myself why I didn’t rent an apartment in school though.
As for Thomas, nothing prepared me for the Zimbabwean hottie that welcomed me into his place. Tall, slim, dark, pretty, with lovely jaw lines, a diva-like carriage and a very good command of the English language. He had a lovely accent too.
We settled inside and immediately connected as we just started gisting. I think the fact that we both didn’t have the role indicator on our Grindr profiles added an uncertainty to our meet that made us focus on connecting first before any other thing. We later got to know we were both bottoms, which was fine, because I was enjoying getting friendly with him. He’d been on the Island for four years; he was 23 years old and was out to everyone in his life. He was mostly different from me personality-wise, and I found him to be a very interesting person.
And soon, because that is the way these sorts of things happen, Thomas and I started talking about boys. Sis was gisting me about the guys on the Island, and I told him about the Igbo uncle I’d hooked up with. He said he knew him, and I wasn’t surprised, especially as we talked more and I began to come to the conclusion that the gay community here is almost the same as the one back home in Nigeria; everyone knows everyone, and they have all most likely slept with each other. Only that here, these guys aren’t internal homophobes; they actually want to have associations and interactions with other gay men beyond the four walls of their bedrooms. Thomas told me of dates he’d been on, the house parties he had organized, club invites he had gotten together with his friends, and how accommodating straight guys were, especially those whose girlfriends were his friends – because of course, he had lots of female friends. At the time, I had no idea I was face to face with one of the most popular gay guys on the Island.
And oh yes, Nigerian boys are on the low breaking people’s hearts here o! Apparently, Thomas had dated a Nigerian guy and they were together for two years, even though he (the Nigerian boyfriend) was sleeping around. Thomas really cared about him, and the picture he painted of the dates they went on and vacations they took had me wondering if this was the same breed of Nigerian gays that I knew. I mean, who knew Naija gays could be this romantic. Las-las, it ended in tears and they parted ways. I felt bad for Thomas, especially seeing as he was still feeling some type of way about the relationship, as he kept telling me, “Be careful with these boys, especially those on the Island. Let them not break your heart o.”
LOL! I wanted to tell the honey not to worry about me. I grew up a Naija gay; I know these boys and their ways, and I can handle them.
By the end of my visit, we’d exchanged Instagram handles and WhatsApp numbers. I enjoyed his company so much, I felt bad that this was his final year and only my first; I was hoping we’d have more time to become really good friends and create memories of my time here. Thomas was a sweet soul, a really kind person too. He didn’t just talk; he listened too. He wanted to know about my stories as well, and I told him about the gay community in Nigeria and the homophobia we experience. He wanted to know if I was out in my country or to my family, and I told him no. he may be out, but he was African enough to understand my reservations without me explaining much.
Na so gist sweet us sotay we no know say night don reach, and I had to say goodbye.
While on my way home in the bus, I went through his Instagram and liked most of his pictures. I also went through his followers and added a few people from there, even though most of the accounts were on private. By the time I got home, a few of them had accepted my requests to follow them.
And that was when one particular profile caught my eye.
Men might just be the end of me for real, because.
Written by Lanrey