The night might have
involved snorting cocaine off the belly buttons of a few young girls who had a
few hugs less from their fathers. It could have involved a primate and a gay
couple getting married before dawn. There are flashes, images of me hitch hiking
for a ride on a deserted road at 5a.m. I flagged down a random ride, looked at
the driver, and told him to take me to my favorite brothel.
He said, “There’s a drunk woman in the back seat. It just so happens that she’s my wife.”
Every time Freddie calls me for a link up, I brace myself for a cornucopia of the best and worst. While some girls pride themselves in being mobile brothels, this one prides herself in being a mobile bar. I find crazy people compelling and this girl is like nine different shades of weird. She called me for a “ketch up” at some hostel in Wandegeya. I should’ve prepped myself for a rollercoaster when she showed up donning torn baggy jeans, a tank top peeping under a XXL Polo T, slippers and a duffle bag full of Guinness bottles.
He said, “There’s a drunk woman in the back seat. It just so happens that she’s my wife.”
Every time Freddie calls me for a link up, I brace myself for a cornucopia of the best and worst. While some girls pride themselves in being mobile brothels, this one prides herself in being a mobile bar. I find crazy people compelling and this girl is like nine different shades of weird. She called me for a “ketch up” at some hostel in Wandegeya. I should’ve prepped myself for a rollercoaster when she showed up donning torn baggy jeans, a tank top peeping under a XXL Polo T, slippers and a duffle bag full of Guinness bottles.
The room we went to
was more of a bar than a students’ residence. Everything was thrown
everywhere. The only thing giving off a faint sense of organization was the
neat arrangement of every tribe of liquor on the floor. Curls of sweet smoke
lazily crawled up to the ceiling, blending with the dim blue light. It went
without saying that time here was measured in bottles in cigarettes.
I felt at peace with my chi. Then she started telling me about the last time we were together. Apparently I asked a mutual friend of ours for a “chow”.
Or, as urban reggae lovers would put it, ‘I begged her a fuck’.
This mutual friend is real sweet, real nice and real tight. In fact she’s BFF material so my pleas for pity sex must’ve put her in an awkward position. So the question is, should I have been filled with self spite and regret on hearing that I’d hit on her a gazillion times in a record two hours?
No
I was more interested in finding out, “why would anyone not want to fuck Arthur?”
Because Science.
She narrated how I’d hit on everyone that day and how they had all turned me down. She said, “I felt so sorry for your already sorry ass. In fact, for an hour or so, I considered having you as my first one night stand.”
It hurt that I’d missed out on a possibly enlightening session in coital choreography. You know what they say about missing out on possibly enlightening sessions in coital choreography?
Nothing, they don’t say anything about those.
I raised an eyebrow with this look of you know, the circumstances are more or less the same. I could take you up on that offer tonight…?
She laughed and said, “You can file that request under ‘no chance in hell’. My bae (girlfriend) is coming around.”
Oh, did I mention she’s kuchu (gay)? Well, she is.
It so happens that there’s a girl I am supposed to meet that same day. We share a history – if going to a random club, picking a random babe, getting drunk and making out in the middle of the dance floor counts as history anyway. I haven’t seen her during day and I don’t know her name. I saved her as number as TGIF – This Girl I Fucked.
I didn’t actually – it just looks cool and shit. Hey, did you know that adding ‘and shit’ to any sentence makes it sound cool and shit?
I call TGIF and she’s kind enough to let me know that she’s coming with a friend. The thing I dig about girls like TGIF is that they are down to party. After a few drinks she’ll “accidentally” let you touch her boobs for like ten seconds. Staying for the rest of the party becomes just formality. My mind was working along the lines of ‘if the friend is anything like her then this night is going to be what I like to call a doozy.’
Threesome, I see you.
Two beers and seventeen cigarettes later, she showed up.
With a friend --
--her boyfriend.
He’s younger than me, he drives, doesn’t drink, doesn’t smoke, he wears OBEY and TRUKFIT and all that shit – he’s basically a non smoking teetotaler. They looked so happy together. I convinced him to down a glass of White Mischief and he got drunk. With worry and concern scribbled all over her face, she gave up the party and took him home.
Being single had never felt so lonely.
With all my get-laid hopes bashed, my full focus was on the most faithful companion on earth – alcohol. Freddie’s brother was throwing a house party somewhere along Mawanda road. We got lost. She abused the boda-b guy for not knowing where we were going.
“Do I look stupid to you? Wait, are you saying I don’t know where I am going? Of course I don’t know where the fuck I’m going! Do you want to know why? Because that’s your job motherfucker – to figure out where the fuck I am going and get me the there! You don’t know where we are going? Do you even know where you are going? Have you ever --?”
Add a few komanyokos and msssttcchhewwwws. You get the picture.
Somehow, we ended up in the trunk of a Land Cruiser alongside eight other people and made it to the party. Never before, have I seen so much alcohol in my life. I felt like Dracula at a sex abstinence rally. I didn't know what we were celebrating exactly but for some reason there were quite a number of white people. Freddie introduced me to her sister – who surprised me by being totally normal. Then we had pizza, then I broke a bottle – the two events may or may not be related.
Freddie’s babe joined us at around midnight. I realized I’d met her before. Not from her looks but from the way she laughs. She has this infectious laugh that is impossible to forget. The kind of laugh that makes you feel like telling everything funny. The highlight of the night was when they kissed.
It was like one of those life’s little moments that you live for – seeing two girls kissing.
We went to some club at around 2am. Everyone knew Freddie. It was rather corporate. Most of the revelers were drinking and conversing animatedly. The dance floor was mostly deserted. We got our drinks, I saw a familiar face – some guy from Lumumba Hall. I nodded curtly – because bad boys don’t wave, they point an index finger and nod. Freddie poked me and whispered in my ear;
“By the way, you are currently in a kuchu bar.”
I felt at peace with my chi. Then she started telling me about the last time we were together. Apparently I asked a mutual friend of ours for a “chow”.
Or, as urban reggae lovers would put it, ‘I begged her a fuck’.
This mutual friend is real sweet, real nice and real tight. In fact she’s BFF material so my pleas for pity sex must’ve put her in an awkward position. So the question is, should I have been filled with self spite and regret on hearing that I’d hit on her a gazillion times in a record two hours?
No
I was more interested in finding out, “why would anyone not want to fuck Arthur?”
Because Science.
She narrated how I’d hit on everyone that day and how they had all turned me down. She said, “I felt so sorry for your already sorry ass. In fact, for an hour or so, I considered having you as my first one night stand.”
It hurt that I’d missed out on a possibly enlightening session in coital choreography. You know what they say about missing out on possibly enlightening sessions in coital choreography?
Nothing, they don’t say anything about those.
I raised an eyebrow with this look of you know, the circumstances are more or less the same. I could take you up on that offer tonight…?
She laughed and said, “You can file that request under ‘no chance in hell’. My bae (girlfriend) is coming around.”
Oh, did I mention she’s kuchu (gay)? Well, she is.
It so happens that there’s a girl I am supposed to meet that same day. We share a history – if going to a random club, picking a random babe, getting drunk and making out in the middle of the dance floor counts as history anyway. I haven’t seen her during day and I don’t know her name. I saved her as number as TGIF – This Girl I Fucked.
I didn’t actually – it just looks cool and shit. Hey, did you know that adding ‘and shit’ to any sentence makes it sound cool and shit?
I call TGIF and she’s kind enough to let me know that she’s coming with a friend. The thing I dig about girls like TGIF is that they are down to party. After a few drinks she’ll “accidentally” let you touch her boobs for like ten seconds. Staying for the rest of the party becomes just formality. My mind was working along the lines of ‘if the friend is anything like her then this night is going to be what I like to call a doozy.’
Threesome, I see you.
Two beers and seventeen cigarettes later, she showed up.
With a friend --
--her boyfriend.
He’s younger than me, he drives, doesn’t drink, doesn’t smoke, he wears OBEY and TRUKFIT and all that shit – he’s basically a non smoking teetotaler. They looked so happy together. I convinced him to down a glass of White Mischief and he got drunk. With worry and concern scribbled all over her face, she gave up the party and took him home.
Being single had never felt so lonely.
With all my get-laid hopes bashed, my full focus was on the most faithful companion on earth – alcohol. Freddie’s brother was throwing a house party somewhere along Mawanda road. We got lost. She abused the boda-b guy for not knowing where we were going.
“Do I look stupid to you? Wait, are you saying I don’t know where I am going? Of course I don’t know where the fuck I’m going! Do you want to know why? Because that’s your job motherfucker – to figure out where the fuck I am going and get me the there! You don’t know where we are going? Do you even know where you are going? Have you ever --?”
Add a few komanyokos and msssttcchhewwwws. You get the picture.
Somehow, we ended up in the trunk of a Land Cruiser alongside eight other people and made it to the party. Never before, have I seen so much alcohol in my life. I felt like Dracula at a sex abstinence rally. I didn't know what we were celebrating exactly but for some reason there were quite a number of white people. Freddie introduced me to her sister – who surprised me by being totally normal. Then we had pizza, then I broke a bottle – the two events may or may not be related.
Freddie’s babe joined us at around midnight. I realized I’d met her before. Not from her looks but from the way she laughs. She has this infectious laugh that is impossible to forget. The kind of laugh that makes you feel like telling everything funny. The highlight of the night was when they kissed.
It was like one of those life’s little moments that you live for – seeing two girls kissing.
We went to some club at around 2am. Everyone knew Freddie. It was rather corporate. Most of the revelers were drinking and conversing animatedly. The dance floor was mostly deserted. We got our drinks, I saw a familiar face – some guy from Lumumba Hall. I nodded curtly – because bad boys don’t wave, they point an index finger and nod. Freddie poked me and whispered in my ear;
“By the way, you are currently in a kuchu bar.”
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