On that windy night, a quarter of the moon dully shone in the night sky and barely a cloud was in the sky. Everything was thick and muggy. It was that kind of night that makes me want to light a blunt, have a short bake and allow my being to be possessed.

Just when my brain had hit a slight buzz, my phone screen lit up the dark space of my room, casting half a shadow of my naked body on the wall closest to me. I looked over and it was a WhatsApp notification, a text from Bernard. Bernard was this really good-looking, light-skinned, presumably-heterosexual dude who stayed on the ground floor of my hostel block. Earlier that day, I had typed my number on his phone after he asked for it, and thereafter, we’d started texting. I wasn’t too thrilled that he was the one messaging me, majorly because I was waiting for a text from Smart, my dick appointment for the night, and he was taking forever to reach out, what with how horny I’d gotten.

My dick rocked and throbbed as I responded to Bernard’s message, asking him what he was up to.

“Just lying on the bed with a towel wrapped around my waist and dreading going to shower,” he replied with a laugh emoji.

“You shower late too?” I asked.


“Well, what do you know? We have something in common already.”

Of course, we did not have that in common – or anything at all in common, for that matter.



I first met Bernard in my Year 1. It was a private university and I was on my way on a school errand. I was getting to my destination when I saw a group of boys hanging out. Bernard was among them.

As I got close to them, they appeared to suddenly stop talking because of my presence. The looks they gave me and the fact that it seemed they might have been talking about me made me somewhat uncomfortable. But I thought nothing about it.

It wasn’t very long before I met Bernard again. As the fates would have it, he was in my hostel. And his room was located in an area that was my route on my way out. One day, as I was headed that way, he was outside his room. The moment he saw me approaching, he suddenly burst out, “Homo don dey come o. Homo don dey come. If you no wear cloth, better wear am sharp-sharp.”

His antics generated some laughs from the guys around. But it left me very red-faced with embarrassment. I wasn’t the most masculine guy, maybe. But what gave this guy the audacity to heckle me with his presumption of my sexuality? I felt a deep resentment for him over that, and also, I stopped leaving the hostel through that way, preferring an even longer route just so I could avoid running into him.

But Bernard wouldn’t stop. For three years, he assumed the role of the antagonist in my story. It was never anything physically violent. It was just the taunts, the cruel, insensitive jests; just generally him being a homophobic asshole. His harassment became infrequent, the older we got in school. But he had done enough damage for me to just not fuck with him.

Then in my third year, everything changed. It was my birthday, and I commemorated it by cooking up a storm that day. I’d gone out and shopped for lots of food items, including drinks and cake. I was in a giving mood, and after I was done cooking, I started giving out packages of rice, cake and drinks to the friends I had in the hostel.

There were two roommates who were my friends; they lived three rooms away from me, and I had taken their own share to them. And standing beside their room was Bernard. We didn’t exchange any words. He simply stood there, watching me as I went back and forth from my room to my friends’ room, first to give them rice and drinks, and then to give them cake. He stood there, observing our banter and listening to my friends hail me for my kindness.

I had walked back to my room for the last time, when someone knocked on the door. I opened it to face Bernard on the threshold.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” I replied.

“So, uh, did I do something to you?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, it’s just that I noticed you’ve been sharing food to guys around, and you didn’t give me. And it just feels as though we are quarreling or something.”

I stared at him, caught in that place where I both wanted to laugh and rant. Was this guy for real?

“No, we are not quarreling,” I said. “We’re just not friends, so I didn’t see any reason why I should give you anything.”

“Haba, it shouldn’t be like that na,” he began cajolingly, going on and on about how we can be cool with each other, and all that jazz.

I wasn’t feeling vindictive. So, I didn’t need much persuading before I decided to give him what he wanted. Soon thereafter, he left.


It was around 11 PM when Bernard came back. He knocked on my door. My lights were off; I like staying in a dark room. I asked who it was.

“Bernard,” he said.

I opened the door. “What’s up?”

“I’m good,” he said.

He seemed fidgety.

“Can I talk to you?” he asked.

“Sure,” I said. “Come in.”

I walked in, expecting him to shut the door behind him. I heard him close the door and I was headed to the light switch, when I felt his hands grasp my waist.

My startled reaction was delayed, long enough that he had already pulled me close and kissed my neck, before I jumped forward, projecting my body out of his arms.

My heart was pounding – with fear, I think – as I whirled around on him.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I snarled at him.

I moved to turn the switch. Light flooded the room, capturing the mix of desire and guilt that had his demeanour arrested.

He stumbled through his response. “I just…I thought…I…that is…I –”

“You thought what?” I snapped. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

He was still stammering, looking like he wanted more than anything for the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

“Please, get out,” I said.

He didn’t need telling. He turned and fled from my room, leaving to stand there and wonder what the fuck had just happened. How had the guy who’d bullied me for so long become the one who just kissed my neck?


Written by Jason

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  1. Influence
    January 21, 13:58 Reply

    I always know that guys who appear homophobic are closet gays themselves. Most of them don’t feel comfortable associating with girly guys in the open because they fear, it might out them

  2. Nel
    January 21, 15:13 Reply

    I love the energy!

  3. Bobby
    January 21, 20:10 Reply

    So is there gonna be a two?

  4. Precious Oraz
    January 22, 10:14 Reply

    Once again, another story putting paid to the idea that homophobic men are actually internally homophobic.

    A nice, tidy little idea.
    If only humans were that simple and uncomplicated.

  5. Loki
    January 22, 10:26 Reply

    Please for d love of God, Don’t hookup with Bernard!!!
    Just don’t give in. Keep up d space dat has always existed. If he is a closeted community member fighting internal homophobia den let him fight his battle himself.

    U can’t bully me for wat was it, 3yrs nd expect us to turn fuck buddies at d snap of ur fingers. Just keep ur distance simple.

  6. hookkie
    January 23, 01:01 Reply

    After this long wait for a story it is not fair that the next one should be having a part two na…..

  7. Danté
    January 23, 21:12 Reply

    OMG… This is so lovely, anticipating part 2

    Ehm…. Pinky, still waiting on “For AJ (Part 3)” or am I the only one???

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