Manly Escapades


I have no appropriate title for this. I’m having such trouble with titles lately.

We were a trio.
Two of us were escorting one back to her house after which we would go back to ours. The evening had just set in, it wasn’t too late though darkness had already engulfed the universe surrounding us. As we passed the various streets, we were whistled at, complimented, stared at. I kept my head down. Why are men doing this? I was beginning to feel very uncomfortable in my own elastic skin.
Later as we went back home, memories flashed in. It started with the old Indian man. All the Indian men I’ve come into contact with are perverts. Online. As I haven’t been to India yet. I used to think they are modest as that is what they show us in their movies. They don’t kiss, they barely hug. All they do is hold hands and the next minute they dance to the longest songs in history. Very romantic bullshit. This geezer made me feel disgusted. I can’t identify him if I met him but I hate him.
It was during the days I used to be a little naive. I don’t know what was blinding me. That particular day, I was in the CBD waiting on someone that wanted to meet me. I keep doing it. I’m that kindπŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚. My phone’s battery was running low and I was looking for a place to charge it. I had to be on. You all know how much it sucks not to find a person you were to meet on call. It was one Sunday and there weren’t very many open places. Fortunately or unfortunately because I got to meet that Indian geezer, some conductor offered me a seat(for free) till my call came in. He also took my phone to charge somewhere.
His route was Parklands and we had gone about three rounds when this particular old Indian came in. I was a bit surprised because at his age, he should be using personal transport and not sharing with us the general public. He had so many wrinkles and very thin lips. It was like a straight line. If you didn’t look closely, you could barely tell he had lips. He sat next to me and smirked. I looked at him and focused straight ahead. Trouble came knocking when we started moving. He was throwing himself all over me in an attempt to touch my boobs. When I looked over at him with that to kill stare, he smirked. I wanted to punch him. But then I might have landed at Kamiti. I coiled myself up and didn’t take him up on his offer to go to his house.
I’m wary of Indians, as well as old men. Old men especially because that day the three of us were walking, some of them had tried to ‘vibe’ us. I respect the old but if this is what they are now up to, very many things will be different including me being branded rude. I find it highly disrespectful for an old man to like me sexually. I don’t want to be granddaughter-ed.
On to this pastor who was courting me while he had a wife and kids. I really hope he isn’t your pastor because move then you’ll have to move to my church πŸ™ŒπŸ™Œ. He asked and asked again till the day I finally agreed to go to a dinner with him. His persistence was persistent. I didn’t know he was a man of the cloth till later on but going out with a married individual is bad enough. Morals police, take me away.
He picked me up and took me to a fine restaurant. I choose my meal and ate heartily. If you are taken on a date, please eat if it is eating you went to do. Eat as if you’ll never eat again. For all you know you might never have that opportunity again. Take it as if you are treating yourself out. It doesn’t matter who’s paying the bills. Again I apologize if this man is your pastor, he’s a disaster.
He then wanted to book a room and have him use all the energy I had harnessed from the scrumptious food I had just had. I almost laughed. I told him blankly that I wasn’t going to spend the night with him, in a bed or otherwise. His dimples disappeared and for a moment or two I saw anger flash on his face. Then his chivalry was replaced by hostility. Typical of men when they don’t get what they had planned to get.

I’ll drop you off at the stage. Go home.

Earlier he had promised to take me home after. Everything had changed now but unlike Norman who tried to rape me because he ‘felt’ I wanted him, he left me Scot free. God might have shown him some light or a verse from the Holy Book. Pastor Harrison.O. please lead your flock to the right path. I’m glad I’m not a member and I’ll never be. Can you imagine the confessions session? Ama ni testimony? Preach strict monogomy without adultery. Or temptations. Till death do you part. Set an example.
My naivity is gone with the wind. If I go out with you at night count yourself extremely lucky. It means I trust you. And I don’t trust nobody.
Don’t try your luck. I’m out!


2 Comments Add yours

  1. nyambublogs says:

    πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚…I am supposed to feel sorry for you but this shit is funny

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I don’t want you to feel sorry for meπŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚


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