Random Rants

Every time a guy hits on me, all I can think of is hitting my head against a wall. The few times I’ve ever opened my mouth to say “I’m gay” so they can leave me be, they just push harder. Next thing is I want so badly to hit their head against a wall. I’ve never quite understood it. It’s like they’re suddenly convinced they’re the ones who will “convert” me. Some of them even go as far as suggesting I “just haven’t had dick” yet. And the expression on their face tell me they sincerely believe that their penises are like Baygon or something. Only instead of kiling insects, it kills the carpet-munching lesbo in me.

Let me put this dick in you. It’ll straighten out your soul.

Now I am not a man-hating feminist. I have brothers, nephews, male friends, etc. Also – and this is just my opinion – I think the feminist thing is a little too much drama for me. All that weaker-sex-stronger-sex-what-a-man-can-do-a-woman-can-do-better bullshit repulses me. Can’t it be okay that we’re different? What’s the deal about arguing which sex is superior? The way you see yourself is the way you will be treated. Also, if you act like a shit, I will call you out on it – whether you are male or female. I have enough self-respect to know when I am being treated unfairly and do something about it. Your gender be damned. But I digress.

EXACTLY.

So one beautiful evening, as I was taking a walk in my hood (Lol. “Hood”. Right.) a car went past me, then reversed slowly. I rolled my eyes so dramatically I would have given the most feminine, dramatic gay guy a run for his money. Why? One more male I had to fight off. Happens every damn time I step out. Anyway, in the car are about four guys and a girl. She was seated at the back, in the middle. She said hi, then got out of the car. I blinked twice, confused. Obviously because this rarely happens with the ladies. We had a brief conversation about my name and where I live and how I’m cute and all. I was being cautious before but after all the compliments and the way she looked at me like she was starving, how could I have not given her my number when she asked? I got hers, but didn’t save it before my phone restarted – by then they had driven off. (Damn you, Blackberry!) She said she’d give me a call, then threw a casual “My brother loves you, by the way,” as she got back into the car. I waved in his general direction, eyes glued on HER. They drove off. I walked on, feeling worshipped and adored.

Damn Straight. I mean damn gay. No that’s not quite right. Damn bent? :s Whatever. Ah stays sexy.

Two days later, I got a Whatsapp message. From her brother. Booooooo!

I was pretty sure that by the time I hit my mid-twenties, I would definitely have come out of the closet. Then that stupid anti-homosexuality law happened (in Nigeria). It would have been nice to be able to just tell people right off the bat that I’m gay. That way I wouldn’t have to deal with trying to figure out if that woman is into women so I can hit on her, or trying to get a guy to realize hitting on me is an exercise in futility, or explaining to my folks that I have no man in my life because “I’m focusing on my career.”

14 years imprisonment aside, I’ve found that I can actually still be myself and get away with it. It’s not like I go around throwing fuck-me glances at every beautiful woman I see, but I mean nothing’s changed. The law is useless. It was just a distraction from the more pertinent issues plaguing this country. Because with religion it is so easy to make puppets out of otherwise rational people who can think for themselves. There’s the Boko Haram terrorists, and that 49 year-old senator who married a 13-year old Egyptian girl, and all the embezzling and corruption, but no, somehow what mattered more was that two consenting adults shouldn’t have sex with each other or get married just because they happen to have the same genitals. Oh wait… Maybe the government is actually concerned that I might not enjoy sex as much as I should. They’re trying to spare me the trouble of figuring out how to fix one vadge into the other. Oh, I get it now. That’s awfully sweet – emphasis on awfully. Thanks but I’ve pretty much got it covered.

And a MERRY Christmas it was indeed.

I hung out with a lesbian couple at Coldstone. They kissed right there, in full view of everyone. And then they proceeded to ask me what my type was. While I was squirming uncomfortably thinking everyone was watching and listening, I paused, took a look around and realized everyone was too engrossed in their shit to give a fuck. Seriously, I didn’t hear anyone make a call to the cops about these big ol’ lesbos scarring their minds forever by kissing. Also, I’ve lately been coming out to the people who matter. To people who I know are not going to think it’s a big deal that I think boobies are just the best. No, scratch that – women are just the best. Like, The. Best. Evar. And no, I don’t mean that in a sexist way. I mean… Goddammit you know what I mean! My point is despite the ugliness of it all, I can still function as a normal human being.

But to be honest, sometimes I just want to scream out loud from a megaphone that I love women. I think I’ll do that. When I’m safely strapped to my seat. On my last flight out of this country. Because I’ve got it all planned out that I’m going to die at age 70. I do not want to waste 14 years in some prison. Unless it’s like Orange Is The New Black and Piper and Alex are there so we can have a threesome.

*gulp*

No. Just… No.