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Posts tagged “honesty

In Which I Rant About The Use Of My Dick – Or Lack Of It

I thought the days of proving your manhood by how many women you’ve been with were done with and over.

Apparently, I languish in ignorance.

Therefore, to whom it may concern, find the extended version of my apology – or lack of one – below.

I had no idea my decision to be celibate would make you; my ‘friend’, ‘padi’ and/or ‘confidante’ uncomfortable. You see, I didn’t choose to tell you because I somehow understood – even long before we got to this point – that it is important not to cast my pearls before swine.

Butter no be monkey food, after all.

But your concern after your numerous attempts to hook me up with several pliant and willing women kept coming to naught helped loosen my tongue; albeit unwisely, as I have come to realize.

Still, I am grateful for your perception of the fact that I am not missing any bit of game. In fact, if anything can be said – my game is more on point than ever; now I no longer have petty distractions to deal with.

I just have decided to stay off sex for the moment.

Anyways, I have come to accept your offense concerning my stance – accept; but not understand. If I am not bothered by your huge appetite for copious amounts of sex, why does my lack of an appetite bother you?

“What is he trying to prove?” I hear you ask. Well, I turn that question back to you.

What are YOU trying to prove?

You think the fact that you cannot resist a gigantic behind or massive ‘fronts’ makes you better than me? Hey – I gladly concede. You ARE the better man of us two – even the society we live in agrees with you; so why do you still think we are competing?

You are not my competition; the man hasn’t been born that I can compete with – simply because the terms and conditions of life do not make for that – competition.

Actually I lied. There’s one man I am very much in a position to compete with – the one man I can compete with and beat.

The man who looks back at me every time I look in the mirror.

That’s the only man I am interested in being better than; that is the only standard (other than Jesus) I look to. Therefore, I do not, cannot and will not judge you – I expect it’s only fair to ask that you do not judge me either; and that you respect my decision.

No. There is absolutely nothing wrong with my balls.

You know better than that – or at least I expect you to – because you; better than most know full well where I am coming from. You know what I used to be like; what my relating with women bordered on. You know when and how my relationship with my mother improved; and how that improved my relationship with women generally.

You know where I have been.

Therefore, I am sorry if I do not have new colorful stories to contribute to the conversation when you and your pals are talking about your conquests – in fact; I am sorry I do not have any stories at all. I am sorry I do not have any raw or ribald jokes to share; I am sorry I do not have nude pictures of my ‘impressive’ number of girlfriends; past or present to display before your hungry eyes.

For the sake of clarity; I do not think for one second that makes me better than anyone other than myself. I just – I just do not roll that way.

I know who I am. And that; is not it.

Is it too much to ask that you leave me alone in my ‘inability to talk to women’, ‘my gayness’ – or whatever reason you came up with yesterday to explain my ‘unexplainable’ behavior?

I didn’t think so.

Thank you.

And to the other ‘you’, the ‘you’ who thinks every man is the same because every guy you’ve ever shown your boobs starts making promises concerning a certain airport or a certain stadium; welcome to the real world.

Not all of us are suckers for boobs. Some of us men are just boring like that.

Understand; that ‘boring’ bit is sarcasm – because I know a lot of ‘you’ find guys without vices unrealistic, non-existent or plain boring. I mean, isn’t it amusing how you sing your little choruses of ‘all men are the same’ and then you meet one that’s ‘different’ – and have absolutely no idea what to do with him?

But I digress.

Point is; I’m not into the business of setting ‘P’, ‘X’, ‘Y’ or any other alphabet on or off social media. Don’t misunderstand; I like the attention as much as anyone else – but I do not thrive on it. It does not define me. I’m just online; usually; to share my thoughts/opinions; ignorant and uneducated as they are – and learn a thing or two from other people who share my interests – or not.

And more importantly – to connect; see if people like me can find each other. But if there’s one thing I am not online for; it’s booty call. You dig?

Therefore; forgive me when you get a brusque reply to your request that we ‘hook up’ or the nude pictures you send to my email. I like breasts and butts as much as the next guy – but not to the point I forget why I’m here.

Or maybe I’m gay. After all, I am catching feelings for someone named Scott.

Don’t get it twisted; I love sex. I find the biology and chemistry of it quite fascinating. I like waist beads and chains, I’m attracted to some strategically-positioned tattoo, I like dressing up, role playing – in fact; my favorite position is –

None of your business; actually.

I just need you to understand; the same way you have the right to throw it in the way of whoever you decide to; I have the same right to turn it down. The fact that you wouldn’t eat Mr. Biggs meat pie does not make Mr. Biggs meat pie bad; it just means you don’t like it.

Is that so difficult to understand?

No; I do not want to sleep with you; knock boots with you, bump pelvises with you, fuck you – or whatever new name sex is called. There’s nothing wrong with you physically or otherwise far as I can see – and even if there was; I wouldn’t know. I’m not a doctor.

I’m not better – or ‘holier’ than you for that matter. I just don’t want to have sex with you.

Point blank period.

Let me see if I can say it French – maybe that would help:

Je ne veux pa sexe avec toi.

Forgive the errors – if there are any. I didn’t want to use Google translator and my French is nowhere near perfect yet.

You sha get the point.

More importantly; I think – no; I definitely reserve the right to rescind my celibacy decision the moment this post goes up – or not to. My life. My choices. My decisions.

Respect that. Or not.

Your fine-ass cup of boiling Nescafe – or herbal tea – or Milo.

Good morning!


Twitter’s The New Diary

“What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas”

Who tell you? What about what happens in Peckers?

You think there’s a difference?

Oh! Think different!

You’d be surprised! Old shit smells recent!

I act decent

But my thoughts are disgusting

Disturbing

50 colours of one shade can’t paint the full picture

There’s a war for my mind

Who will be the victor?

Victor? Hugo?

Shade? Who knows?

Killed and murdered innocents

Buried the corpses, covered the doors

Forgot the windows

Slept with the office secretary

Made her a widow

Walked away, didn’t console her

Smoked a pound of indo

Bricked up my closet

That didn’t still the skeletons

Didn’t think someone would come

To steal the skeletons

Now my bullshit is in the open;

And it’s a truth so bitter,

Guess what happens in Vegas stays on Twitter


Displaced.

 

An arm and a leg he gave

For a truth not worth much

 

But who says?

 

Who gave an arm and a leg?

Someone else gave EVERYTHING – and didn’t find it.

 

What’s it worth? What are you worth?

 

No thought.


Swift Scribbles: Romance She Wrote II

 

I remember that I am a guest in her house – and I look around, searching for her. She’s sitting not too far away, wine glass to her lips while she’s smiling at me. I quickly look away, embarrassed.

 

 

She drinks a lot of wine. Wonder why.

 

 

I continue reading.

 

 

and form my own opinion. Hmmm.

 

 

So I do go for the meeting, and while I am not blown away, I am impressed enough to want to meet him under different circumstances. He is quite good looking, and there’s this silence…this quiet around him that makes me want to peek underneath and see if there’s more. I want to get to know him.

 

 

 

15th November

 

 

This is serious. The guy is tighter than Aso Rock. I like ‘strong and silent’ type men but this guy puts a whole new customized angle on the word ‘silent’. Three hours and all we did is talk about business. I didn’t ask him to lunch to discuss business!

 

 

He’s just annoying. When I asked, he told me politely that he does not fraternize with clients so as not to create the wrong impression. Can you imagine this guy? I had to like, get Mina to blackmail him somehow so he would be on that date with me! And I’m beginning to regret that impulse sef.

 

 

But something kept me glued to that seat. Something made me want to get him out of that self-imposed shell and show him some things. Something I see in his eyes every time I make a personal remark or try to flirt with him. Something.

 

PAIN.

 

 

The ‘pain’ had been written several times, painted and drawn till it was a big word that stood out on the page. I shudder and keep reading.

 

 

 

Someone hurt this guy, hurt him a lot. He tries to put on a front, act like he does not care…like he’s too self-sufficient. But he’s afraid.

 

 

I feel myself turning to mush, and its time to be careful. I don’t want to fall for him out of pity. He has to earn his place in my heart..and maybe in my bed. I like his hands. I like watching him punch things on his phone or laptop. I like watching him chew. The way he dresses, the way he carries himself.

 

 

I think he’s secretly arrogant. But we’ll see.


Midweek Fix: Can We Get Naked?

 

 

There should be ONE PERSON in this world you can be naked with. I mean physically, emotionally, honestly, EVERYTHING-LY.

 

 

Naked; I’m talking figuratively and literally.

 

 

I love comics by the way.

 

 

If you heard this before – indulge me; but I am convinced the first book I EVER read in my life was a comic.

 

 

I had a brother who was an avid collector – and something about the pictures and the words just fascinated me. Another thing that got my attention about these characters as I got older was how they faced problems similar to mine.

 

 

I thought if I had superpowers, all my problems would vanish in an instant. I could just fly away somewhere I knew nobody and nobody knew me, and I would just be there.

 

 

But after reading one particular Spiderman comic where he got beaten within an inch of his life, I realized that contrary to my belief that Spiderman was an escape; however temporary, from Peter Parker’s boring and mundane life, Spiderman also had his problems – albeit more deadly than Peter’s.

 

 

Another guy I could relate with was the Hulk – for an entirely different reason. In his early incarnation, the Hulk was a monster – at least so he seemed to everyone else. And as a result, he was angry most of the time – angry and paranoid. He did not trust anyone, and was largely misunderstood.

 

 

Boy. Could I relate to that.

 

 

But then, The Incredible Hulk found someone who could calm him down. He found someone who he recognized even when he was going through the most aggravated of his rampages. He found someone he recognized even when he was raging out of control.

 

 

 

That someone was/is a woman.

 

 

Betty Banner nee Ross, the one great love of his life, the daughter of his greatest enemy General Thunderbolt Ross.

 

 

I don’t want to bore you with details – but the bottom line is, Betty is Hulk’s kryptonite. Every time he’s rampaging, out of control – whatever, once Betty comes on the scene, it’s over. The Great Incredible Hulk becomes a baby.

 

 

And then, you don’t wanna see Hulk when Betty is in danger…

 

 

 

Let’s bring it home now. Check out the picture.

 

 

The Right Woman

 

 

 

 

 

Imagine that.

Imagine someone like The Hulk becoming putty in the arms of a woman he’s taller than; even when sitting on the floor!

 

 

I know, I know. It’s just a comic, right? I mean, it’s just like the movies – we see what ‘they’ want ‘us’ to see, right?

 

 

But – all the guys reading this – tell me your mind did not go to one particular man/woman when you saw the picture. Tell me you did not think of someone who makes everything okay by just calling you. No matter how rough your day has been – you hear his/her voice and everything is fine.

 

 

Which brings us/me back to the intro – There should be ONE PERSON in this world you can be naked with. I mean physically, emotionally, honestly, EVERYTHING-LY. Naked; I’m talking figuratively and literally.

 

 

There’s this Lupe Fiasco/Trey Songz collaboration ‘Can’t Get You Out Of My Head’.

 

 

In the music video, Lupe is walking on the streets and so on – and he keeps running into different women who have the same face. One is walking her dog, another is a cop, another is a model or something – and then at the end of the video, he walks into this club and he meets the woman whose face all the other women are wearing.

 

And then she asks, “How was your day?”

 

 

 

And then the viewer finds out that the woman’s dog actually peed on his shoes, the cop was giving him a ticket – there were all kinds of different drama associated with the different women he saw – and then he ends with ‘but I kept seeing you and everything was just fine’.

 

 

That’s the power of a woman. The power of a special somebody.

 

 

I used to think opening up to a woman – allowing her see your sensitive side is some kind of weakness. But you can only keep up a strong front for so long.

 

At the end of the day – as Dapo admitted to Yemisi; “Everyone needs to be someone’s baby”.

 

 

If you (I mean the guys now) if you have someone who basically makes it okay for you to be honest, for you to be yourself, for you to be ‘weak’, for you to cry after watching a movie like 12 Years A Slave…you better wife that woman.

 

 

If you’re married and you cannot be that way with your wife, something is wrong. You better fix it.

 

 

That’s right. I said Y-O-U.

 

 

I think the biggest obstacle to the naked idea; the idea of being vulnerable with someone else is fear. We have learnt to use people and love things – so we’re afraid of being taken advantage of by people we love, care about and open up to.

 

 

The scary part is – sometimes it’s not even that the person leaks or reveals your vulnerability. Sometimes, it’s that they start to use that knowledge you armed them with against you. It could be words, it could be actions, it could be insinuations…they just take the knowledge you shared with them and use it against you – literally.

 

 

What can I say? Nothing hurts more than trusting the wrong person.

 

 

And honestly, I have been the ‘wrong person’ in relationships. I make mistakes. I take things; I take people for granted. But I am learning to value myself – and it turn value people who value me. I am understanding that life; relationships are privileges – I don’t have the right to friends; I have to earn my friends. And ‘earning’ friends does not mean changing who you are, sometimes it just means letting go of your need to be right, letting go of your need to control, letting go of some temporal gratification to give someone else happiness.

 

 

I still miss it plenty times. But I keep trying. And God is not through with me yet!

 

 

So. Be grateful for that person you can get naked with without fear, invest in one if you haven’t found yet. The whole of life is a risk – we all have to fail to win sometime or the other.

 

 

 

Everyone needs to be someone’s baby.

 

 

 

Have an amazing week!

 


Swift Scribbles: Romance She Wrote I

 

 

Her hand writing flows across the pages; kinda like Italics when you do that CTRL+I trick on your keyboard. I see another sign that she truly has beautiful hands.

 

 

But she wants me to read her journal – specifically; some pages she has opened for me.

 

 

Intrigued, I begin to read.

 

 

 

Hmmm – dinner date with the ex. I don’t know what to wear and I honestly wish I wasn’t feeling so nervous. Turns out he can still see thru me after all. Hateful little man…

 

 

 

“No! Please don’t read that,” she says, giggling in embarrassment.

 

 

A bright red fingernail traces down the page and taps a spot emphatically.

 

 

“Start from here,” she says.

 

 

 

My client finally decided to give Mina the account. I’m so happy for her. She wants to take me out to celebrate. It would give us a chance to catch up, it has been too long.

 

 

I’ve missed her a lot. As we talk through dinner, I realize there’s something else on her mind, something she’s not telling me. Man troubles?

 

 

Turns out I am right, not just in the way I expect. There’s this guy at her office who she thinks will interest me. I don’t exactly find that flattering, not immediately. She’s trying to hook me up with her creative team head. Do I look like I need to be match-made?

 

 

Mina calms me down. She’s always known how to do that, no wonder they called her my sister on campus even though I am older. She tells me about this guy and how he is quiet and…’somehow’ is the word she used. Somehow?

 

 

I am curious in spite of myself. I have not known Mina to be someone who does hook-ups as a trade, neither have I known her to waste her time with some kind of men, the kind that seems to about nowadays. She’s a girl who has a straight head screwed on correctly.

 

 

How does she know he’s single? Damn girl says of course she knows, he works for her and winks at me. Can you imagine?

 

 

I’m a bit afraid. It didn’t go so well last time and I seem to be enjoying my own space a lot lately. I have been getting to do stuff for myself, things a wrong relationship would get in the way of. I am scared.

 

 

Mina hugs me suddenly. She does that sometimes but never at random. She just seems to know when I need one of those. She tells me not to worry; that he will be coming with her to the signing of the agreement and stuff, and I’ll get to meet him

 

 

I have to turn the page here.


Joy

Like finding a sweet memory in old trousers,

That’s what I remember.

She’s quiet

Her beauty; not the kind to start riots,

But definitely end them.

Her hands are so small, easily they fit into mine

When we talk, we rhyme

And in bed? At times all we do is mime,

Repeat practiced movements as old as time.

She is strength in my weak,

The strength in my week.

She toughens my limbs, makes the days better

Would have changed my life too; if I’d let her.

I did write a letter.

When she smiles, something in me jumps,

Got me wondering; ‘could this be love?’

Could this be – that mysterious feeling they sing about,

That thing that makes old men sing and shout?

She’s joy. She’s Joy. She’s my joy,

Something rare; exquisite

Something that breathes even when I squeeze it

A bright thing when other lights are dimming

A Joy;

But I’m sad.
I wonder why.

For