(First published in Identity Magazine's Sophomore Issue)
The other day I was sipping a mug of something English but had it slightly ‘poisoned’ so as to make
it a little bit exciting. For purposes of my credibility, may the record bear me straight (No offense)
that I don’t get high on anything cheap! Let’s carry on. I was taking a mental note of everything around me until a text message came in. ‘Hey, Cole all is set for the evening. Kindly come even if it will be one of your technical appearances coz I had serious stuff I needed your thoughts on’.
See, I love dinners. Not because I dread cooking in my dungeon but there’s a lot of things to learn when people converge around a well laid table. When you are a relationship enthusiast like yours truly, you get to be invited into lots of those because people use is as a perfect veneer for free professional opinion on their love lives…if they have any that is. I solicited a lift from one of those random guys who always expects to execute any of my wishes. I know it’s manipulative but ‘cest la vie’. Of course, as the norm, is I arrived fashionably late. There were a few guys already present, lots of fine wine, juices, snacks and of course, food!
I was ushered to my seat at the dining area by some tall athletic man. White shirt, some tetron pants. The kind of chap you instantly like, the one who is quite interesting, quite good-looking yet oddly diffuse. Look, I love preferential treatment but pulling seats doesn’t qualify you as a gentleman... that is if they still exist. Over dinner there were lots of jokes, mature and shallow ones that got everyone happy. Dessert was perfect; making conversations liven up more before guys sectioned themselves in different points as they sipped their drinks. Then some bit of drama ensued.You never miss these in any local gay scene.
My host had organized this dinner for the sole purpose of introducing his new partner to his inner circle of
friends. The ex apparently had got wind of it and attended. I’d been skeptical about this while we were having dinner because of the strong non verbal cues between my host and his ex but I chose to keep my clogs off the ice. I don’t get this vibe of guys introducing their new love to the ex but I find it very intriguing.
The ex was apparently getting out of hand at the garden table where they were seated, spilling drinks while serving himself and all the while fidgety and staring at his replacement contemptuously. He was literally behaving like the loud and proud lot who place themselves above the rules of etiquette and common decency.
‘So, this is the bitch you replaced me with? You could have done better John*’. Now, John* is a very modest man by all standards and it is basically a symbol of good upbringing. He isn’t street but very firm. ‘Steve*, in the kitchen!’ said a disgusted John. Reluctantly, Steve* followed him to the kitchen muttering something unprintable in some absurd English. I motioned everyone to continue enjoying the evening.
Despite this bit of drama, something really impressed me. Someone was so put together sipping his dirty Apple martini and taking a special interest in everyone’s (seated next to him) occupation. Now that’s what I call class. I don’t know whether it was stage managed but Austin* the subject of the recent tussle was modern at it. Steve* came from the kitchen muttering some few more unprintable matter, took his undersize brown leather coat and banged the door behind him. Just then my phone beckoned and I had to excuse myself to leave since my drinking buddies were up in arms. John* promised to get back to me the following day for the serious talk but I guess I had a drift of what to expect.
On my way to the CBD in some otherwise slow cab, my thinking cap went on active mode and I noted a few things I’ve learnt in the scene:
it a little bit exciting. For purposes of my credibility, may the record bear me straight (No offense)
that I don’t get high on anything cheap! Let’s carry on. I was taking a mental note of everything around me until a text message came in. ‘Hey, Cole all is set for the evening. Kindly come even if it will be one of your technical appearances coz I had serious stuff I needed your thoughts on’.
See, I love dinners. Not because I dread cooking in my dungeon but there’s a lot of things to learn when people converge around a well laid table. When you are a relationship enthusiast like yours truly, you get to be invited into lots of those because people use is as a perfect veneer for free professional opinion on their love lives…if they have any that is. I solicited a lift from one of those random guys who always expects to execute any of my wishes. I know it’s manipulative but ‘cest la vie’. Of course, as the norm, is I arrived fashionably late. There were a few guys already present, lots of fine wine, juices, snacks and of course, food!
I was ushered to my seat at the dining area by some tall athletic man. White shirt, some tetron pants. The kind of chap you instantly like, the one who is quite interesting, quite good-looking yet oddly diffuse. Look, I love preferential treatment but pulling seats doesn’t qualify you as a gentleman... that is if they still exist. Over dinner there were lots of jokes, mature and shallow ones that got everyone happy. Dessert was perfect; making conversations liven up more before guys sectioned themselves in different points as they sipped their drinks. Then some bit of drama ensued.You never miss these in any local gay scene.
My host had organized this dinner for the sole purpose of introducing his new partner to his inner circle of
friends. The ex apparently had got wind of it and attended. I’d been skeptical about this while we were having dinner because of the strong non verbal cues between my host and his ex but I chose to keep my clogs off the ice. I don’t get this vibe of guys introducing their new love to the ex but I find it very intriguing.
The ex was apparently getting out of hand at the garden table where they were seated, spilling drinks while serving himself and all the while fidgety and staring at his replacement contemptuously. He was literally behaving like the loud and proud lot who place themselves above the rules of etiquette and common decency.
‘So, this is the bitch you replaced me with? You could have done better John*’. Now, John* is a very modest man by all standards and it is basically a symbol of good upbringing. He isn’t street but very firm. ‘Steve*, in the kitchen!’ said a disgusted John. Reluctantly, Steve* followed him to the kitchen muttering something unprintable in some absurd English. I motioned everyone to continue enjoying the evening.
Despite this bit of drama, something really impressed me. Someone was so put together sipping his dirty Apple martini and taking a special interest in everyone’s (seated next to him) occupation. Now that’s what I call class. I don’t know whether it was stage managed but Austin* the subject of the recent tussle was modern at it. Steve* came from the kitchen muttering some few more unprintable matter, took his undersize brown leather coat and banged the door behind him. Just then my phone beckoned and I had to excuse myself to leave since my drinking buddies were up in arms. John* promised to get back to me the following day for the serious talk but I guess I had a drift of what to expect.
On my way to the CBD in some otherwise slow cab, my thinking cap went on active mode and I noted a few things I’ve learnt in the scene:
Rejection
When romance wanes, we must learn how to leave honorably. Being clingy to a love gone bad just makes us needy and this isn’t good to an already bruised ego of any man.
There’s more to life than bitch talk
Before you refer to someone as a bitch, make sure the person is beautiful or pretty. That’s how they come and yes, we hate them because they make us look bad. I long for the day we can discuss stuff way beyond our orientation that is geared at sharpening us mutually—education, professional life, and ambitions you know. Looking beyond the genitals!
Top, Bottom, Versatile...C’mon these are just labels
So where and on what forum was it decided that one has to be submissive and live in the dreams of another man? I live in a society where a man must fend for the rest of humanity so being a sexual minority doesn’t mean I have to forget that I’m a man. In my view the aforementioned labels are just roles...they don’t define anyone as a man.
‘I love you’ comes in two parts
Ricky* called me just when I was leaving John’s compound saying that the guy from the weekend hasn’t called him yet he had told him that he loves him. My views? Forget him guy friend he got what he wanted! There’s the ‘I want to get into your pants I love you’ and the ‘I love you’ that someone can actually wait and see how it unfolds. Guys always know when they have been duped but it takes confidence to forge ahead!
While I was still working out some pep thoughts the cab driver interrupted my thoughts ‘Boss, tumefika, nikushukishe wapi?’ (Boss, we have reached, where do I drop you?) I got into the local watering hole where an interesting football match was in progress (I’ve reserved the names of the teams that were playing for patriotic reasons). I was ready for a night of sin. I joined the young guys on the floor after talking a mental record of the time and how many hours I had there.
Deep in mind I concluded to myself, this life is not about some quick, random bend over romp or
charges per shot...all jokes aside, the local gay scene needs a complete mind overhaul...I’m just saying! -
Cole Mutahi
*Names altered for discretion purposes.
No comments:
Post a Comment
What did you think about this article?