He came to your Facebook messenger and stirred up a conversation. You were reluctant to reply at first. His account was a catfish, with photos of semi-nude Black bodybuilders. He had typed “Hello” and you replied, “Hello. Good morning.” And you two began a correspondence.

If it were on a normal day, you would have ignored his messages, just like you had left over a hundred random “Hi” and “Hello” in your inbox unattended to. But you were hurting and he had the right words to soothe your soul. You told him about Daniel, your boyfriend of two years who had cheated on you with your best friend, Kanayo.

It had happened just once but it hurt so much. You had travelled to your hometown for your father’s funeral. Daniel and Kanayo had spent the night at your place, so they could catch the morning bus to your village on the day of the interment. You knew when you saw them that something about their behaviour around you had changed. That they were fighting so hard to hide a truth.

“People never appreciate what they have till they lose it,” your body-builder catfish told you.

You wanted to tell him that Daniel hadn’t entirely lost you, that you two still had a chance. You’d simply suggested for some time off, so you could clear your head. And you were almost about to forgive him. But something within you wanted an eye for an eye: a sexual rebound that would place you and Daniel on equal footing.



Ezra was his name, your body-builder catfish. When you moved the conversation to WhatsApp, you saw from the photos he sent that he was a man with a set of beautiful white teeth and perfectly curved face. And when he video-called you, you heard his squeaky laughter.

The day you two met, the custodians of Fate had left so many warning signs. You were a kind of person that read meaning into everything, so it was funny how you missed them all. First, the bike that drove you down to the Iyana Ipaja ran out of fuel, so you had to trek the rest of the way.

Then the bus you boarded to Ezra’s place at Lekki was playing Obesere’s Egungun in its transistor: “Egungun, be careful na express you dey go… Motor don jam am… E don happen, I don tell am… E don happen, I don tell am.”

The bus even developed a flat tyre along the way, and you came down with the rest of the passengers to push the vehicle to a mechanic.

Then came a torrential rain that seemed not to stop. You stood under a shade, violently shaking as cold winds swept past you. You were asthmatic and had forgotten your inhaler at home.

Ezra picked you up late in the evening. He was a sales representative at a popular cosmetic house in Lagos, and had had to work extra time to balance his records. He met you at a track road that led to his house. It was a few minutes to 8 PM and you had been standing there for over an hour. He apologized for having kept you waiting.

“You look more beautiful than in your pictures. Fine bobo,” he complimented when you entered his Salon car.

“Thanks,” you said, almost blushing.

You felt his eyes glance repeatedly at you, as though he couldn’t keep them off you. He wasn’t anything older than twenty-eight, but had managed to keep a body build that made him look younger than he was. His diction reminded you of a friend who schooled abroad.

“You must be cold,” he said when you got to his place and he saw you shiver in your damp clothes.

“Yes,” you said. “The place I took shelter from the rain wasn’t a very protective one.”


He turned on the light from the power source and switched off the air-conditioners. His apartment was beautifully furnished with gold stenciled wallpapers and black Italian tiles. An orange-lit chandelier hung from the center of the ceiling.

“We should bathe,” he said as he turned on the television, “then have supper.”

You were slightly alarmed by the pluralization “we”.

He pulled off his wristwatch, then his black trouser. You watched him unbutton his white long-sleeved shirt and throw it into a bin, and then he walked into the bathroom to turn on the shower. You were still standing by the couch when he returned.

“See who is shy,” he said with a laugh.

“I’m not shy. I’m just tired,” you said and began unbuckling your trousers.

He came over to help you. You let him pull off your polo, then your three-quarter length denim pants.

“You know, you are too quiet for someone who chats so naughty,” he said as he lowered your red cotton boxers to your ankles. He stood up and ran his hand over your slender body, leaving it to rest on your buttocks. He stopped to admire you for awhile. “You are very sexy, the sexiest person I have ever seen. Promise me you will stay with me.”

You nodded, even though you were sure you wouldn’t.

Your phone rang. You turned to the screen to see who was calling. The Caller ID read ‘Danny Love’.

“Who is that?” Ezra asked.

“My mum,” you replied. “She must be calling to know if I will be back today. I’ll return the call later.”

Ezra led you into the glass-chambered bathroom. He pressed a red knob to bake hot water and soaped your back while you two waited. He held you tight from behind, as droplets of seaming water fell from the nozzles of the shower and onto your bodies. You could feel his hard-on behind you and glimpsed it through the condensation on the mirror. It was huge and entwined with a thick network of veins.

He whispered into your ears, “I want to fuck you.”

You nodded in affirmation and he lowered you down to the sink, so that your elbows rested there and his hands were on your hip bones. But then, you started when you felt him try to slide inside you without protection.

“You have to use a condom.” You turned to face him.

“But I’m clean.” He held you on the shoulder. “Trust me, I’m clean. I tested negative a few weeks ago, and haven’t hooked up with anyone since then.”

You looked at the broad shoulders, at the abs beautifully lined on his torso, at his curved muscled thighs – and you became reassured that he was clean. You turned around and bent over again, letting him slide smoothly inside you. His thrusts made slap-slap sounds as he went in and out of you. Asa’s Fire on the Mountain was playing from the stereo sets in his living room, the melody floating all the way into the bathroom – perhaps the last warning sign that the custodians of Fate were leaving for you.

Soon, he made moanful epileptic jerks as he came, his dick pumping inside you. Then you felt his body fluid drip out of you and down your thighs.



You found Daniel seated on the stairs of your house when you returned the next day. It was almost noon. Ezra had been gracious enough to drop you at the gate of your estate.

“I have been calling you since yesterday.” He sprang up the moment he saw you. “Why haven’t you been picking up my calls?”

“I was busy.” You dropped the groceries Ezra purchased for you at Shoprite on the porch, and opened the door. Daniel followed you into the living room.

“I guess you were too busy to return the call,” he shouted at you. “I was so worried that I had to call your mom. She said you weren’t picking her calls either.”

You turned on your phone and went to your call logs. Ezra had switched off the device sometime last night, to let it charge faster.

Your mom had left a message: Nna, call me when you see this. I hope everything is fine.

“Where were you?” Daniel drew closer to you.

“With a friend I met on Facebook. His name is Ezra,” you said simply.

Daniel heaved a sigh of relief. “I totally understand if you want some time off to be with your friends. But I still care for you. I would be hurt if anything happened to you. I was so damn worried.”

He spread his arms apart and hugged you. His broad hands encircled your tiny self into him, and you smelt his pineapple cologne. He reached for your face and kissed you. You didn’t stop him. But you didn’t kiss him back.

Instead, when he broke the kiss, you looked into his eyes and let the words slip loosely from your mouth.

“I fucked Ezra.”

He recoiled from you. “What did you just say?”

“I fucked Ezra and it was so good.” Then you turned away from him, walked to the window and stayed there. “I fucked him, not just once or twice. We did it in the shower, on his bed and then this morning. And I wish I’d do it again.”

Daniel staggered back till he hit a wall, and then, as though his feet had failed him, he slid to the floor. He was crying. He kept asking, through his sobs, why you were punishing him for a mistake he had apologised for over and over again. You didn’t answer. You just stood there and watched him sob like a child.



The signs came later in the following weeks, weeks in which you’d visited Ezra and had more sex with him. Weeks in which Daniel pleaded with you for you to come back to him. Weeks that you knew deep within you that something about your health had changed.

You thought it was typhoid at first. You had a long history with the ailment. So you rushed off to a pharmacist to get some meds. But that didn’t stop the chesty coughs you had, neither did it help with the flu or burning temperature at night. When it got worse, you told yourself that it was probably a bad case of drug resistance.

You might not have even gotten tested early if you weren’t a member of the Nigerian Red Cross and a valued blood donor at your local hospital. Your donor routine was scheduled once every quarter of the year, and four times per annum. You were two weeks overdue, from your donation calendar. So when you came that early Thursday morning, you thought it would be the usual procedure.

You dropped your blood sample at the hematology department, filled the donor’s register and sat in the reception as you waited for the result of the pre-donation screening.

It usually doesn’t take this long, you thought, when they kept you waiting for over an hour. You had timed your donation for thirty minutes, so you could go on visit your family at Ikorodu.

Your heartbeat quickened when the nurse called your name. “The doctor is ready for you now,” she said as she stood by the door of the reception.

“The doctor?” You stood up and walked up to her. You hadn’t ever seen a doctor throughout your donation history. You were only attended to by a nurse who took your blood in a pint, and afterwards gave you a can of Malt or an energy drink.

“Sorry about the delay,” the nurse said and then walked down the corridor, leaving you to follow after her. “The resident doctor would like to have some words with you.”

You could already feel your body running a temperature. Your legs were shaky and you couldn’t breathe, what with the furious beating of your heart. You reached for the inhaler in your pocket and took quick puffs in your mouth. The nurse stopped at a door, knocked on it and stepped into the room beyond. You followed behind.

The doctor seated inside was a thick-boned bespectacled woman, whose table name-tray read “Dr Cookey D. Nnodim”. She showed you to a chair opposite hers and dismissed the nurse.

“How long have you been a donor?” she asked as she lowered the glasses to the bridge of her nose.

“About three years. Almost three years.”

She took down some notes and then looked up to face you. “When was the last time you had sex?”

You adjusted yourself on the chair. Your chest was tightening now. You silently prayed that this better not be what you were thinking.

“About two weeks ago,” you replied.

“Did you use any protection like a condom or PrEP?”

“Yes–no…no,” you stuttered.

The doctor removed her eye glasses and drew closer to you. You knew before she said it. Her eyes told tales of something bad to come.

“The result of the donor screening from your blood sample shows that you are HIV positive.”

You sat bolt-upright in the chair. You couldn’t be HIV Positive. Ezra had assured you that he was clean. He had to be clean. Or the HIV test strips and reagents they used had to be expired. The doctor was already counselling you on what next to do. But all you could think of was what your local dialect called HIV: Obiri n’aja ocha.

It ends six feet below the red earth.

Now, that made sense.


Written by David Kamdili

Previous Bobrisky calls Transgender Buchi Alexandra a “Shemale Pig”
Next Some Ghanaian Lawmakers Want to Criminalize LGBTQ+ Advocacy

About author

You might also like

Fiction 21 Comments

Caught Between A Rock And A Hard-on

My name is Buchi. I’m in the university and I live off-campus, in the lodge known as Mediatrix. When I started living in Mediatrix, I didn’t talk to anybody for

Fiction 23 Comments


Your palms are sweaty. Your heart is racing; you can feel the thumping in your chest and the blood cruising through your veins in an endless rush. You feel your

Fiction 39 Comments

The Boy Who Had the Saddest Eyes

Read this story listening to any song(s) that give(s) you peace – Marcus. He came to St John’s Boys’ High at a time when I wasn’t sure what I was.


  1. P. Mitch O.
    March 22, 09:44 Reply


    This old line again!
    I just got tested ____________ ago and I haven’t had sex with anyone since then.

    Lori iro ohhhhh!!!!

    Even if they do the test in front of you, insist on a condom. It’s for your own safety!!!! Take it from someone who learned this the hard way.

  2. KingB
    March 22, 09:49 Reply

    This really hits home. I had sex last in November with some really cute somebody like that. He’s a guy I’ve always liked and wished we could be an item. When I talked about dating him, he dismissed the idea and i let go. Once in a while, he comes around and we get down.
    Fast forward to November last year, he came around and we got down. For some weird reasons, i couldn’t just take him that night. Dude is really hung. We eventually walked each other off and slept off.
    At night, curiosity got a better half of me and I searched the bag he came with. I found a container that contained some drugs with weird names. I’ve worked in a Pharmacy and those drugs seemed really novel to me and I searched it on Google.
    Alas, the drugs were HIV Medications. I died a thousand times that night because when he woke up d following morning, he took those drugs in my presence. I narrowly escaped contracting HIV.
    NO one would have suspected he had the Virus. Infact, dude even looks healthier than myself. He had broad shoulders, thick legs and thighs huge dick and just everything in place.
    I ran into him last night at a gathering and gave him a huge hug. He doesn’t know I know his status. I sort of pitied the guy he was with and wished I could caution him.
    Please do not believe anyone that tells you they’re clean. No one will come out to admit to you they’ve got HIV especially in the gaybourhood

    • Pezaro
      March 22, 21:34 Reply

      So all the while you had this picture of poz men as being skinny, frail limbs, sunken cheeks and all? Lol , you should unlearn that.

      Secondly, you needn’t have died a thousand times on your discovery. As he’s on medication, there’s a huge chance that you might not contract the virus. Lol again.

      Thirdly, if you still fancy the said guy, you could always start using prep, and keep your condoms handy.

      • DarkQuinn
        March 23, 02:32 Reply

        Lol… Almost no one would date a poz guy in Nigeria willingly after finding out he’s poz… Pay no heed to some of them “woke” niggas cos when it comes to it,they actually wouldn’t date a poz guy even if he’s undetectable. Some of them advocate disclosure just so they can discriminate against and ostracize poz people.

        • SideEye
          March 27, 18:13 Reply

          OGA, speak for yourself … and only yourself.
          I have dated and will continue to date POZ men who happen to be undetectable.

    • Tristan
      March 24, 19:20 Reply

      It’s your overt ignorance for me despite having worked in a pharmacy. You were probably just a salesman. There are many healthy poz guys out there including me. Poz guys who adhere strictly to their medications actually live a very very very…normal life with infecting another person. You have a lot of unlearning and relearning to do.

      And its really advisable to use a condom. ALWAYS. With someone you haven’t confirmed their health status. You might need to worry about contracting other STD’s other than HIV.

      This is 2021. This type of ignorance cannot be condoned.

    • SideEye
      March 27, 18:12 Reply

      You deserve to be called out for 2 things;
      1) Not respecting boundaries: under no circumstances should you check someone’s possession without being given the express authority to do so.
      2) Ignorant: If he is on medication, chances are much higher he might be undetectable, which is a much better state than someone who doesn’t know their status.

      DO BETTER!

      • DarkQuinn
        March 27, 21:43 Reply

        Almost no one means a very large percentage of people…. Congratulations! You are of the lesser percentile that can date a poz undetectable. Read well before jumping in claws out, Sir.

  3. Denzy
    March 22, 12:49 Reply

    I remember once, a long time ago I had unprotected sex; I also remember the anxiety I suffered in the subsequent weeks until I got tested negative.

    I’ve lived on the mantra, “No glove, no Love” ever since.

  4. Opal
    March 22, 17:07 Reply

    So sorry this happened. Using a condom is key except you yourself is on prep.

    • Rudy
      March 22, 21:12 Reply

      Let’s not forget PrEP is ONLY protective against HIV.
      It does not protect against the numerous sexually transmitted diseases which in the long run are almost as dangerous as HIV if not diagnosed & treated early.

      Condom usage is non-negotiable, it’s a MUST.

Leave a Reply