chapter 4

I logged into my Facebook account a few days after I cut all ties with every queer spirit in me. So I thought.

I saw a "Hi, good morning" from an "Andy James" guy.

I clicked on the message and went to his profile for a proper assessment. He definitely didn't look bad.

Not like the old and bad-looking folks that stormed my DM with frequent "baby boy" "sweetheart" and the likes of it.

I went back to respond to his message, but at a point I was reluctant.

"What if he's another queer guy?" My subconscious mind asked a million and one times.

Going back to his profile to search for any hint of queerness, but I found none.

He didn't have any of the other folks in his friends list, he wasn't effeminate like the normal stereotype concerning most queer guys. At least, I could tell from his pictures.

I got convinced when I saw "The singing preacher" in his bio.

"Alas! A christian brother!"

I responded to his message, but he wasn't active at the moment, so I got no response.

I kept checking his active status, surprisingly, until I slept off.

I woke up a few minutes past 5pm and the first thing I grabbed was my phone.

Phew! He replied after I slept off and another phew! he was currently active.

A conversation started immediately.

We started off with the basics which were introductions and yen yen yen yen!

For the first time in my life, I stayed up all night, not praying as usual, but chatting with a stranger who I was getting to know.

Andy, who I later got to know was the short form for Andrew, was a few years older than me. 3 years precisely.

He was a 300 level student of Theater Arts in the school I just got admitted into and was basically occupying a well furnished two room apartment alone because his parents were not living in the state.

The elaborate streets of Facebook couldn't contain our conversations, so we switched to the green app.

Day by day, we got to know each other better. From sharing insights from our personal morning devotions to video and voice calls.

I really wanted a physical meeting, but I calculated my steps and words. Like a lady would say, "I didn't want to look desperate."

As though he could read my mind and connect to my feelings, he invited me over to his place on a Saturday after weeks of social media bonding.

I went, and his pictures did no justice to the fine young man I met.

His intelligence and level of communication was so wild that I didn't resist or refrain when he leaned in for a kiss a few hours into our conversation.

Neither did I resist when my clothes were being removed. Consumed with lust and pleasure, I fought back the constant "STOP" that kept playing in my head, silencing the still voice with every move I made.

Getting sexually entangled with the cries of pleasure filled with pain drowned by the blasting sound of Mercy Chinwo's "Obinasom" playing from his JBL speaker….