THE DEMONS OF LAGOS

The stories of the queer men in Lagos came to me via social media, but more specifically Kito Diaries. I recall reading stories here in my room many miles away from Lagos and generally being amazed at the many ridiculous things that happen in the city.

There were aspirations of moving to Lagos, but as I grew older and enjoyed the convenience of home, Lagos became less attractive to me, which is why if anyone had told me that I would move to Lagos this year, I would’ve cursed them out, blocked them on social media and given Jesus a run for his money by fasting for 80 days and 80 nights.

However, here I am, typing this from my office in Lagos. I am yet to believe I am starting my life in this city that I hoped to never relocate to. I remember telling myself not to hurry into meeting people and I held off for about three months, before I went on Tinder and started matching with people.

CALVIN KLEINS

I matched with Eric and we chatted for two weeks, before we finally met. The conversations were exciting. He seemed decent, funny and of course smart. He had the right amount of humour and that kept us going, until we met. I left my house to his, after confirming from my friends that it was safe to visit him. I struggled with finding his street, because my uber driver dropped me at the wrong location – it was actually a street before his – so I had to use Google Map to find his apartment. While on the phone with him, trying to locate his place, he talked to me like I was a child. It irked me and when I told him to speak to me better, he insisted on talking to me in that manner.

That was the first red flag, but I let it slide.

I eventually located his street and met with him halfway to his house. I thought he was a beautiful man and I loved how soft-spoken he was. It made me feel calm. We caught up on what we’d been up to, saw a film together and then had sex in the bathroom. It was my first time, having bathroom sex, and even though I thought it was a very impractical way to have sex, nothing prepared me for just how impractical it would be. Make no mistake, it was pleasurable, but the limited space, kissing under the shower and losing my breath because of the water, was not cute at all. I was extra cautious of riding the dick, because I didn’t want the water cistern to crack on fall apart entirely under our weight. We did what we could do and came. I wanted to go again, but definitely in the bedroom this time.

In the bedroom, we tried to make small talk again, and this time, he told me more about himself and we bonded over moving to Lagos at different points in our lives. I listened while he told me his tales, but when it was my turn to talk, he suddenly remembered to use his phone and left me talking to myself. He was barely paying me any attention and kept muttering monosyllabic responses to me as he typed away on his phone. When I realized what was happening, I said goodnight and went to bed.

I was disappointed because I didn’t like being ignored, but also because I was horny and wanted to have sex with him again.

The next morning, I got up. We exchanged greetings. I had a bath, and because I changed in the bathroom, I forgot my Calvin Klein briefs in there. While I was putting on my shoes, he said to me, “Now I don’t know when next we will see again, because I am going to be so busy these coming weeks.”

I paused mid shoe-lacing, looked at him and laughed inside. I laughed at his audacity to think I was ever going to return to his apartment. I laughed at this measly attempt to dump me.

And then I said, “My uber is here. I’m leaving now. Take care.”

It was on my way to work, from his, that I got a text message from him telling me I left my briefs at his place. I felt so embarrassed by that, because I imagined him telling his friends I intentionally left my briefs at his apartment. I cringed at the thought of him believing I left them there as a way to get an invitation back to his place. I was very close to telling him to deliver them to my office, but I didn’t do that.

Unsurprisingly, he and I no longer talk. It was sad at first when our interaction petered out, because I’d started to like him, but the events of that night opened my eyes.

FAILURE TO LAUNCH

I knew Jide for two years before we finally met. We met online at the peak of the pandemic and became friends. Our friendship also had the promise of sex and I looked forward to the day that was going to happen. When I finally moved to Lagos, I was excited to meet him and we planned to meet on a Friday.

It was going to be my first time on the famous Island part of Lagos, and I could not wait to see the display of wealth the place is known for.

I got to his place at 8 PM and he came to the gate to usher me in. However, he wasn’t decent enough to offer to help with my bag. Ensconced in his room, I watched him and did not see excitement in his eyes. We were meeting for the first time after two years of talking. I would expect an expression of excitement at finally meeting your friend.

The lack of enthusiasm also had me feeling unwelcome, so I sat and made small talk with him. I also gifted him a sweatshirt and he cracked a smile. After having my bath, I joined him in bed and we began to make out. Minutes later, I flipped and laid down on my stomach, so he could make the first penetration. And then I realized he wanted to do that without protection. I stopped him and insisted he put on a condom. He grudgingly agreed.

But then came the next problem. He would try to go in, and he’d go soft. And then he’d pull out, wank himself for a bit to get hard again. Then he’d go in again, and after two or three strokes, he’d go soft again. When the failed attempts got to an embarrassing number of times, I told him to tell me what was on his mind. He said he was tired and I got pissed at that, because he could have said this earlier and saved me the stress of coming all this way to his place. He added that we could sleep for a few minutes and then we would go again. At this point, I was ready to just get up, throw my clothes back on and leave. It wasn’t just about the disappointing sex. It was about that and his unwelcoming attitude and the fact that during our chitchat, he’d had this annoying behaviour of talking over me. It was about the fact that at some point during our conversation, he’d said to me, “Most times, you sound like you don’t know what you’re saying.”

I wanted to leave because him not being able to get it up felt like the ultimate validation of what a profound waste of my time he was. But the time was 3 AM. So I wasn’t going anywhere.

I tried to sleep, but I couldn’t. When he woke up at some point in the night, I was still awake. He made to touch me, but I stopped him. I needed to get some things off my chest. I told him about the offensive thing he’d said to me earlier and how obnoxious he’d been. I told him I hated how he tried to make me feel, especially considering how this was the first time we were meeting after knowing each other for two years.

He didn’t apologize. Instead, he doubled down on his condescension.

So, I lost my self-restraint. I didn’t yell. I didn’t snap. I simply coolly told him that the only reason he’d talk over people is really because deep down, he knows he doesn’t have enough emotional or intellectual intelligence to match them. And so, he has to compensate by being loud and obnoxious. I told him he vapid and lacks joy in his life because of his narcissistic attributes and disrespect for people who should be his friends. I told him he needed to grow up.

He was astonished. I don’t think he expected me to lose my cool. And so, he made to apologize.

But I was already so over him. I told him good night, and now that my soul was clear, when I turned and closed my eyes, this time, I went straight to sleep. The next morning, as I left his house, I was cutting him off for good.

THE ESSENTIALS

Bruno and I had been chatting for about five months before I moved to Lagos. I remembered him telling me from the onset that he was emotionally unavailable, because he had just got out of a relationship where he was dumped. I appreciated the openness and it gave room for us to be able to nurture friendship. He was sweet to me – still is – but I was dragging my feet about going to the Island to see him. I’d cancelled twice, and when the topic of meeting came up a third time, I finally acquiesced. I packed over nine sachets of condoms and sufficient lube, because I was seeking a weekend of exponential sex. The amount of hook-up essentials I packed for the weekend made my friends laugh at me, because they thought I had too many condoms and lube.

It was a tiring ride to the Island, but I finally got there and met him. As usual, he was sweet and fun to be around. However when we went to bed, he refused to have sex with me. He was shy and a little prudish. And then he said something that made me chuckle.

“Can we take things slowly?” he said.

I wondered what he meant by taking things slowly, because I recalled him telling me he was not interested in romance. The most sexual he and I got that night was a kiss on the lips – a very chaste kiss on the lips. He didn’t even kiss me enough for us to explore each other’s tongues or count teeth with tongues.

I lay in bed, stark naked and disappointed.

The weekend was over and I returned home with my unused condoms and lubricant.

TO BE CONTINUED

Written by Big Bad Judy