Lesbians and Homosexuals: Why do they threaten us

Most Nigerians today can’t imagine lesbians and homosexuals. Its like: what do they look like? Which family has them? Most of us know no lesbian or homosexual, yet somehow, most of us find them threatening. Yes, true.

I see all the disparaging stuffs written to crucify gay relationships. Infact, you wanna insult someone terribly, call him/her-gay.
“He is a gay”…with the definite “a”. Its to describe a pariah. In our places of worship, it is a sin that eternally damns the soul. A close relative of mine told me that “gay” is a cult people entered into to get power (funny? I didn’t laugh).

Suggestions on treatment include: whipping, deliverance, isolation, disownment, threats, jail term…death.

But, what really threatens us about the gay community. My friend Chidi said it was because their wouldn’t be enough men to go round for the ladies if they were busy loving themselves. My friend Osita on the other hand, vehemently said it was an insult for women to be doing for other women, the job assigned to the men-folk.

I am not a crusader for gay rights but only a respecter of people. More than once, I have heard true life stories of gay Nigerians who married the opposite sex and couldn’t have a good relationship with their spouse. I wouldn’t want to be in that home.

My Very First Time

Sex? People say its wonderful. Beautiful and very pleasurable. Well, maybe today I think that way. When I had my first sexual experience at sixteen though, it was the worst experience of my life then…and even till now.

My father had gotten a very big government contract shortly after my sixteenth birthday and this had enabled us to move from an average family to a wealthy one. I had gone from a public school to a private school to finish my secondary school education. To my parents and my very jovial only brother, that had been the very best move. To me though, it was a terrible move. Although my former school had been a public one, the teachers had been dedicated- very strict and I dare say, much more knowledgeable about my education than my new school. What was worse? I had gone from one of the most popular girls to a nobody in the new private school.  Yes, there were some girls and even guys who wanted to hang with me. I felt they were drab and weren’t even better off than I was. I wanted more.

Everyone I wanted to hang with was either the daughter or son of somebody. Senators, ministers, generals, commissioners and all that. My father wasn’t really on the list though we had become very wealthy.

I didn’t like that I was no more the popular girl I used to be. I wanted to be in the clique of the most popular girls and I sought for ways to join their league. They wore different shoes, carried different school bags, wore makeups, sprayed designer perfumes and talked a lot about boys and partying. I couldn’t boast of the last two. Maybe this was the reason I wasn’t as popular to the boys who all seemed to want girlfriends from the top league. Come to think of it, I had won several beauty pageants in my former school. Here though, I felt all the other girls were more beautiful.

One day after classes, I stopped Angel in her tracks. That was a big deal. Angel was a senator’s child and the leader of the top clique of girls. There wasn’t a moment like even then that she wasn’t surrounded by other girls. I had wanted to catch her alone but, it hadn’t been possible so, I had to talk to her anyway.

I told her I wanted to be her friend. I was terribly ashamed of doing so but, I wanted to get in. She had laughed and her friends had joined in. The amusing thing was that she asked me my name. We were in the same class for two months to the day and she hadn’t even known my name! I had obediently told her. After that, she walked away with her friends, not having given me any answer. I had never felt so humiliated. Well, I had tried and decided to put all of that behind me. 

Is the Singles life more fun?

Why do married women and men get into relationships and soon enough, they want to convince the singles around them that they miss their old lives? Do the singles actually have it better?

Once while leaving a building complex, I ran into a married older man who was a friend of my older friend and thus, we were on a hello greeting basis. I remember that the way he shook my hand made me uneasy. He was older but married and had no business being flirty with me. While I resented that, the only thought that stayed with me was: married people are always looking for an excuse to cheat.

Was that extreme? I don’t think so but then, its just an opinion. The funny thing is, the married think the other side is greener…the singles think so too. I have once said, am a bigger fan of the singles life than of the married but then, I keep growing and I keep questioning myself.

Marilyn Monroe said it’s better to be unhappy alone than unhappy with someone- I agree. The single one calls every shot in his/her life. I believe he/she is even more daring as there’s no one to really consider or answer to. No one reads you a sermon on responsibility when you mess up as much as the married one. You go out whenever and come in whenever and you don’t have to worry about answering to anyone.

Its not all rosy though, ask Rihanna, we all want the same thing: we all want love. Am I saying the single one has no love in his/her life? Not at all. But then, somehow, navigating the murky mazes in life as a team is usually a blessing. Some researchers even suggest that married people on average live longer than the single people. Let’s not even forget that no one man or woman is better off on his own or her own especially as the days go by. If nothing else, you might need someone to talk to down the road. Someone to share those happy moments or even your deepest fears with.

What do I think though? I think no one side takes all the credit. It takes courage to say “I do” to someone and believe that it is for a lifetime. Likewise, it takes courage to just determine to go through life alone.  If you take the step to commit to someone, take two more steps to fight for it. It isn’t always about the challenges, it is about forgetting why in the world you took the first step in the first place. If you take the courage to stay single, have all the fun then cos you might be the hero of the other side.

Kusee’s Diary: Saved?

As the gate swung open, I had a very quick vision of what I was going to do to Mike if I saw him outside my gate. I was convinced, I’d shoot immediately so, as I had one hand on the steering, I had the other on the end of the gun. Luckily, Mike was a no-show and I deeply exhaled before driving off…all the while, checking my rear mirror as I moved along.

Between fixing my hair and spa, I had little to think of and so, I focused on Mr Bedo, my trip and much money coming from him. One thing I have entrenched into my being…all humans are selfish so, to stay on the game, I have to equal their selfishness or top it. I loved topping it. I had only now to use my body to make my retirement. It wasn’t a life I would have thought to live but then, here I was, doing just that.

All fixed up, I was set for Mr Bedo and a call confirmed he was ready to see me at our usual hotel. The one thing I couldn’t shake off? A foreboding that this trip was going to be different. I wasn’t psychic. I had never been paranoid…yet…. What to do? I drove on. Maybe it was because I might get pulled over by the police and searched and even before I show them my license to carry my gun they shoot me… The very unlikely scenario played itself in my mind’s eye and I let it. I decided the handgun was making me nervous.

I got to the hotel and still carried my handbag containing my gun with me, just because I couldn’t leave a gun in my car. Who knows? I hadn’t been to this hotel for the past six months that Mr Bedo wasn’t in Nigeria but truly, the magnificence of it never ceased to amaze me. It was always like a fresh visit. All the furnishings were top quality and even the feel of the rug on the floor was smooth and soft. Something struck me though, the rug used to be all red but now, was white. I wondered if it wouldn’t be more tasking on the cleaning staff…but then, why else were they paid?

I knocked at Room 221. Mr Bedo opened the door without any question. Of course, the very beautiful receptionist who had just welcomed ,me must have rung him as he must have given explicit order that I be not disturbed. Only top government officials and contractors could afford a place as exclusive, as expensive and as beautiful as here.

“My angel!” Mr Bedo greeted me as he gave  me a bear hug.

Kusee’s Diary: Chanced

I was never one to lie idly while a man thrust into me during sex. I felt that was too submissive and sex wasn’t enjoyed that way. So, I work hard, a lot harder than most men I have been with. When sex isn’t for the money (when last wasn’t it about?), I wanted a good time for myself too.

Now, I pushed him away from me and quickly went to work. I sidled downwards and took the length of him in both hands and squeezed…wasn’t the killer squeeze but would hurt a bit. The joy was in a little pain. It got a little bigger if that was possible. Have I told you he was massive? He was…yes, Mike was…. Now, I didn’t want him squirting his juice while I was still years around the corner but, I took him in my mouth and licked a bit. He moaned while trashing about helplessly on the bed. He was so overcome.

“Plea…ple…please…” He was saying.

Please what? I dimly wondered knowing he didn’t even know what he meant. There was nothing a woman wouldn’t get from any man in this state. So, what did I want from this guy right now?

I held the thought as I gave a deeper and more sensual suck. He screamed. Now, he was ripe for me. I wanted all of him inside of me and I moved upwards while still holding onto him. When I slid into him, he nearly exploded us. With great and fast thrusts…I didn’t even know who was riding who any more. I was just carried away. When I came, I was aware that it had happened for us with seconds of each other. I rolled away, breathing hard. My hand was on his chest and the mad beating of his chest was in harmony…or disharmony with mine. For some reason, I sat up a bit and looked over at him. His massive man was now as limp as a small…rat?

Well, I laid down back, willing myself to savour even for once, the time I have been with a man after sex without the need to jump up and do something else. That for me was to create both a distance and to just feel nothing beyond another itch scratched.

He got up and looked into my face…HOLY JES!!! The stench? That stench! Where had I perceived that before…? As I looked at Mike’s face, it appeared to become something else. First a snake face with fangs only it reminded me of a monkey. I jumped up to scream and he began to laugh madly. It rang like a dog. The walls began closing in on me as everything- ceiling, fan, and curtains began to shake. I began screaming….