HANDWRITTEN

Sometimes, it can be easy to exist in the world with a jadedness that comes from being a gay person in today’s society. But then comes along someone who shakes up everything you believe about being gay and makes you realise how precious life still can be.

That afternoon, I was in a shuttle going about my business in Lagos. It wasn’t the BRT or the normal Lagos commercial bus; the shuttle is a minibus that can sometimes function as an uber for those who want to go short distances in Lagos. For that ride however, I was in the minibus with three other passengers. A very cute young man was seated beside me; he was vertically challenged, but he made up for that with a very cute bearded face and arms that heavily hinted at a workout regimen.

However, it wasn’t until he alighted at his stop that his best asset was revealed unto me.

This guy had a great ass!

My God!

Even with the baggy jeans he was wearing, the generousness of his derriere was still so prominent for anyone to see. He had a blessed behind, and my eyes were there to testify.

I stared at him as he walked past to the other side of the road, and then turned my head away –

To see the driver staring at him too!

In fact, the driver was staring so intently after the guy that he didn’t notice me looking at him. When he finally looked away to engage the gear, he realised I’d been watching him watch the guy. And he winked at me, with this unabashed smile on his face.

I winked back, with a small smile of my own.

He refocused on the road and we continued with the ride. When we hit a mild holdup, I noticed him scribble something on a piece of paper, but I didn’t pay much attention to him. I’d earlier announced that my stop was just ahead.

Before I got down, I handed him the fare. Immediately I alighted, as I was about to head away, he gestured for me to come back, saying I should take my change. I was a bit confused because I’d given him the exact fare of 100 naira. But I went to the passenger window and took his outstretched hand, feeling him slip something into my palm. I could feel the texture of a piece of paper that certainly wasn’t money, and suspecting what was going on, I played along. The car pulled away while I walked a short distance to a cool spot, where I opened my hand and looked into the paper.

It had a phone number scribbled on it. And next to the number were the words: Call me.

A small laugh of appreciation for this man’s gumption burst out from me. Like damn, who writes notes as a way to hook up with strangers these days? I was intrigued by him. And I certainly wanted to see him again.

But first, I had to run my checks on him. I checked out his number on Truecaller, and with the name I found there, I was able to locate his Instagram page. It wasn’t very active, with dated posts, but what I saw seemed authentic. From there, I could see that he was a journalist (like me), and that he worked for a major TV network. I found this quite reassuring. (I would eventually get to learn that he being a shuttle driver was a side hustle).

But all these were really secondary. I already knew this guy simply couldn’t be anything other than a queer guy looking to hook up with me. I could still remember the expression on his face as he stared at that passenger with the big ass, the lust that was stark on his face, the charming sincerity of the wink he gave me thereafter… Sometimes, when you know, you just know. I never had a bad feeling about him.

Jim’s number wasn’t registered on WhatsApp. (Yeah, that’s what we’re calling him for the purpose of this story). So, I actually had to call him. The moment I identified myself, his response became exuberant, excited that he was talking to me. I felt warmed by it. I was also charmed by how he interacted with me as though, to him, it was a foregone conclusion that I too am queer, even though I’d said nothing to him about my sexual orientation. Apparently, the mere fact that I called him was confirmation enough for him.

And then, he asked if we could go out on a date. I was a bit taken aback by that. I mean, that’s cute and all, but I didn’t make this call because I wanted to spend precious time talking about myself and getting to know him. I just wanted to fuck.

But I didn’t want to say anything that’d offend him. So I agreed, on the condition that the “date” would be at his place. He acquiesced.

On the scheduled day, I set off on a trip to the estate where he lives in Ojodu Berger. He was outside his compound, waiting for me as I alighted from my uber. We shook hands and he led me inside. I spotted the minibus that started this whole thing, and I had a fleeting thought, wishing that that guy with the big ass were here to make this a ménage à trois.

But today was not the day. We got inside and settled into some chitchat. I had to know, so I asked him what gave him the guts to hit me up the way he did.

He answered, “It was simple really. I liked you, and when you winked back at me, I wanted to get to know you. I would have engaged you in a chat first, but there were those other passengers with us. And if they had dropped first, I would have had my chance. But you were dropping, so I had to do something. The way I saw it, if you weren’t queer, or you are but weren’t interested, you’d have discarded the paper and not bothered to call. It’s not that complicated at all.”

To him, it was just like the normal “guy gives girl his number, girl calls, they set up a date, and the rest is history.” I was fascinated by him. In the complicated world of dating apps and kito setups, it felt refreshing to meet someone who viewed hookups through such simplified lens.

Then I jokingly said, “For a moment back then, I wondered whether you were one of these kito guys from Grindr.”

He gave me a blank look and asked, “What’s kito? What is Grindr?”

I stared at him. No way! No way could this guy be serious!

“You don’t know what Grindr is?” I asked, nonplussed. “Tinder? Badoo?”

“What are those?” he asked with a chuckle at my reaction.

“Gay dating apps.” I couldn’t believe I was telling a homosexual man this.

“Oh.”

He looked serious, like he truly had no idea these hallmarks of homosexuality existed.

“And what’s a kito guy?” he asked.

I started laughing. Oh, this is too precious.

“I don’t believe you,” I said laughingly. “Give me your phone.”

He shrugged and handed his phone to me. I checked. There were no dating apps installed on it, and the URL for Kito Diaries didn’t readily come up on his browser as a site he’d visited before.

As we talked, I began to get the impression of how he’d stayed so freshly minted. For one, he wasn’t very active on social media, as evidenced in his scant Instagram page that I’d earlier checked out. He’d also grown up with a strict upbringing that was void of external influences; very strict Catholic parents, a boarding school (I guessed that must’ve been where he discovered his sexuality), and a private university (where there was no access to gadgets). By the time he became an adult, he belonged to this small village of people who knew so little about the way the already-hidden world of the gays operated.

We moved on from talking about him to other topics like politics, journalism and TV shows. It’s not every day I get tired of talking about television, but here I was, quickly getting turned off the subject. I mean, I was freaking HARD, and I desperately wanted to FUCK!

At a point, when Jim didn’t seem in a hurry to make any move, I excused myself to go to the toilet. Maybe space was what he needed to get with the program. Whilst in the toilet, I prayed that he’d have taken his clothes off by the time I return to the room.

Rainbow Jesus was on top of the situation, because when I went back out, yes, Yes, YES, he was naked!

And he looked so glorious in his nudity. Well-built body, with abs lined up like stepping stones. I suddenly noticed how red and luscious his lips were; I almost asked whether he uses a lip balm.

He was so gorgeous, and there was no need for words to communicate how much I desired him.

Within seconds, we were entangled in the bed, heated kisses and hands groping everywhere. I couldn’t wait to get to his rosebud, and when I did, I was rimming the life out of him. I know people like to say that this guy or that guy is the best sex they’ve ever had – until another person comes along. But mehn! Jim was GOOD! He could kiss. He could suck. He could stroke. He fucked like someone who exactly understood what your body needs without you having to say anything. He was a fantastic lover.

The sex lasted longer than it should, and by the time we were done, we were both panting and sweaty. I didn’t even realise how late it was until I glanced at the clock in his room.

Then he looked at me and said, “I still want that date though. A proper date, because I want to get to know you. And because this is one of the best sex I’ve ever had, we’ll still come back to my place after the date.”

I chuckled and nodded my acquiescence.

He wanted me to spend the night, but nah! Next time perhaps! For now, I want to go on home and luxuriate on the brand new experience of hooking up with a guy who wrote me a note.

Written by Greenleaf