To Masked Man, With Love

To Masked Man, With Love

FOREWORD: Because love blooming between two KDians is a beautiful thing, here is a response to Masked Man’s All The Ways That You Love Me.


At first, it was mere flirtation, our eyes meeting in a dim bar, the air heavy with alcohol and marijuana. You walked over, confident, and asked me if I often came here. We could not say the things we wanted to say freely there because the barman was watching us. But you spoke to me with your body. And in-between the small leaning-ins and brief smiles, I knew that we were the same, two bodies, searching for a home in someone. I listened to the soft accent of your voice, the way you broke into imperfect Yoruba and dropped double entendrés only we could understand, and I wondered what it would be like to kiss your lips softly and caress your beard. Your eyes were a warm brown in the dull light, and though we sat in a din with sweaty air, I could see and hear only you.

Later, before we left around midnight, you would collect my number and my Facebook name. But you would not call for three days afterwards, and I would go to the bar each day, sit in that same spot and try to recreate your face. But my memory was hazy.

On the fourth day, you sent a simple text: Sorry I haven’t called. We should meet up later today if you are free.

I remember this moment clearly; the mad drumming of my heart and the spaced contractions of my bladder. I read the text over and over again and felt a sticky lightness, a giddiness that curled my toes, and for the rest of the day, a small bright cloud enveloped me and sparkles fell out of my mouth when I spoke.

I texted back immediately: Yes. I’ll be free.

Of course, I would be free. Did you think I’d ever be anything but?

That late afternoon, we met at a restaurant close to my house. It had drizzled earlier so the sky was a cloudless river and the sun was a brilliant orb. In the golden sunlight, I began to catalogue small things about you: the gentle brown of your eyes, the two rings on your middle fingers, the way your hands moved slightly to emphasize a point, the way you smiled with half of your mouth, and the tent-shaped bulge of your zipper. We consumed each other in sips at first that evening and asked small safe innocent questions, the kind of things people asked in Hollywood movies: Do you like Beyoncé? Do you sing? Can you dance?

Later, after we met again and again, we would devour ourselves like lions, tearing meat from bone, secret from soul.

We spent our first night together in your room. I was nervous, a fish thrown out of water, pins pricking my spine. I focused on the muted brown of the walls, the rusty hinges of the door, the swirling of the ceiling fan – anywhere but your face. I refused everything you offered me with small “Nos”.

Finally, you came and sat beside me and cupped my face with a tenderness I could not have imagined could come from your huge hands and kissed me lightly.

I wanted to tell you that I felt as though a bunch of keys were rattling in my stomach and something was poking my chest. But instead, I returned your kiss with a forcefulness that was surprising. You pulled back and looked into my eyes, searching for a code to tell us what to do next. I raised my hands over my head and slowly, we discarded out clothes gently, almost as though we had rehearsed it. You stretched over me, the fuzz of your chest hair tickling my nipples, your tongue probing my mouth, my nipples, between my legs. When you slipped into me, I felt a stretching; small needles of pain, then a pleasurable sensation and my fluids leaking from my penis. Your mouth did not leave mine and so, while you we moved in sync to a rushing climax, I inhaled your hot breath and held your shoulders as the room started to swirl, and the spasms rocked my groin.

After that night, it was as though madness was unleashed within us, a hungry chaffing desire for each other. You were uncertain, I could tell, that we would work. We had walked into this with no expectations. I saw the hesitation in your movements, the practiced restraint to resist saying things you felt would get us too deeply involved. But we made love in explosive colours and fireworks, in that uninhibited sweaty glory, I could see the mask stripped from your eyes, the love radiating from them.

You were not ready, so I learnt to be patient. I learnt to stay out of your way when your eyes became hooded, to wrap my arms around you when you sat with your head resting in your palms, to tickle you when you said you were tired, and to cuddle you when you lay quiet in bed. I learnt to not reply you when you spoke with fire in your eyes, to accept your apologies calmly and reassure you that you would not lose me. Sometimes it felt that way, we were deliberately trying to lose each other, like we were both afraid of what would happen if we did not.

The first time you told me you loved me, I pretended not to hear you. We were sitting side by side, watching the sunset from your balcony; I was half reading a novel, and when I looked up, I saw you staring at me with a strange light in your eyes.

I love you.

You said it hastily and turned away. I refused to acknowledge it; I decided to focus on my heart which was suddenly racing and my eyes which were watering.

The second time you told me, you held my face firmly between your palms.

I love you.

I replied immediately, maybe too quickly.

I love you too.

We kissed slowly. You peered into my eyes and started to laugh. Something dislodged in my chest and I laughed with you, a delicious laughter, bereft of reason. You started to tell me that you loved me more often, and every time you did, I felt the same way, like butter melting on a warm plate.

I do not know what the future holds for us. Sometimes, I pretend that I am a palm reader and your hand is a sigil, and so, we sit down in your room and I pretend to trace the lines that tell us when we will have our first son, when we will marry and how we will spend our first vacation together. You indulge me and for this, I am grateful. I do not know where we are going, but I know that if I have your hand in mine, I can conquer the world. We take these small steps together, letting the world in on us at our pace. You are my universe; a constellation of stars shines from your eyes.

I wrote this piece to remind you that I love you, MM. To tell you to stop leaving those plates in the kitchen sink after you eat. I wrote it to ask you why you must boil a kettle of water to bathe every single night. But I wrote most importantly, because of the way your love makes me feel; weightless, like a feather, like candy floss.

I love you MM. I am grateful to have you.

Written by TJ

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I was at a friend’s place one Saturday afternoon. We were gisting and our conversation went from the latest movies to cool, crazy, meaningful and meaningless music, to happenings in


  1. Simba
    December 13, 05:07 Reply

    Chineke.. masked man, why am I in the dark? Ur summoned to court.. come defend urself abeg.

  2. Sinnex
    December 13, 05:46 Reply

    Hmmm….so no more raunchy sex stories from Masked Man?
    Anyway, I wish you both luck in your relationship and hope that you last long together.

  3. Queen Blue Fox
    December 13, 06:25 Reply

    They are all leaving the market o, God of 11th hour settle me with my own husband o.
    I’m happy for youn MM and TJ

    • Pink Panther
      December 13, 06:58 Reply

      God of 11th hour… ????
      Has it reached 11th hour for you?

  4. Non-Conformist.
    December 13, 08:58 Reply

    Awwwwww god I love love, plus this is beautifully written.
    Good luck to you too.

  5. ujay
    December 13, 09:01 Reply

    post like this makes me wanna try settling down with someone but the hoe in me wont just let me last a month with someone.

  6. Dimkpa
    December 13, 09:39 Reply

    This is a real expression of love. It was lovely to read. I like that it is not all rainbows and unicorns but two people working at a relationship and making it beautiful. I felt the same when reading the previous post.
    I wish you guys the very best.

  7. D.D
    December 13, 09:59 Reply

    ? We go love oh. ???? Beautifully written like that of MM’s but why was MM’s filed under Fiction? The writing style in both look similar too.

  8. Jo
    December 13, 10:22 Reply

    This is so beautifully written!

  9. Delle
    December 13, 12:21 Reply

    *blows nose in a wad of tissue papers ”

    Let me shaa be waiting for my own letter. Delle, your own shall come.


  10. Bee
    December 13, 16:01 Reply

    I’m already melting reading this, I can’t begin to imagine what life is like for you! I’ve been bookmarking select posts (I have like 9 now) since early this year and I just added this one … ‘cos goals, lol.

    • Net
      December 31, 13:19 Reply

      When are you writing me one lol

  11. Bells
    December 13, 16:55 Reply

    Love !!!!! please where are you ooo? Been looking since I was a teenager. Na wa o. Anyway I won’t give up. Am sure my Mr Right will soon locate me

  12. Dickson Clement
    December 13, 18:31 Reply

    In *Wendy William’s* voice – ” we’ll be watching”
    If the love story is this delicious, Adele has nothing on the break up story!!! Sam Smith can’t even rival the depth!!!

    Then again,what do I know? We will be watching.

    • J
      December 13, 20:55 Reply

      Aunty Monica, just wish them well LOL It doesn’t matter if they’re breaking up tomorrow. The most important thing is that they’ve fallen in love, a quality most guys on here do not possess. Waka waka aselebakute

  13. Sworld
    December 14, 08:27 Reply

    I go love o??.
    A very good piece to start my day with.
    I felt the love in this piece.

    Kudos to the founder of this platform, May good things never seize in your home as your main of creating this platform are been achieved.

    “This is the day” , actually motivated me i could also share what I was going through at that moment… “The lie that’s I am in a relationship “.

    With “Vanish” by Morrison? So clear like a 4D movie, made me wished I could write on ghost fiction but I wish.

    “To mask man, with love?” Is another ginger to write about my love and I will!

  14. Dammi
    December 14, 23:05 Reply

    This is beautiful… I can feel the love in both stories… Am happy for you guys.

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