A Married Man

Name: Ali

Age: 24

Country: Tanzania

In the gay world, there are many different ways of meeting people. In a country where homosexuality is never discussed in public, one has to learn to find ways of living his life.

One of the most efficient ways to meet someone here is through Facebook. Here is my story.

After I had battled years of denial, I was finally coming to terms with the mark on forehead; it was here to stay and I could not fight it anymore if I wanted to maintain my sanity. I discovered Facebook and what it could do to people like us. I had created a fake account like many others. I had put on a picture of a naked black man showing off his well molded derriere.  If you ask me today I would tell you sex was never my first thought. I just wanted to meet friends.

I met Bakari through Facebook in fact he was the first man I met. We started off with a long drawn-out chat; I had to make sure he was legit taking into account this was my first time. I was afraid of falling into a trap I couldn’t get out of. He lived in the same city as me but older. We didn’t exchange photos as that is the rule. Let’s just chat. He lived alone, that is what he told me and he was a bank teller. I loved his character which was communicated to me through the words he chose and the tone of his warm and caring sentences. And so when he gave me his phone number I wasn’t reluctant to give him mine.  We arranged to meet without having seen how he looked like. I know you might say that it is scary but well, it was the risk I had to take.

When I met him on a beautiful restaurant overlooking the hills, he was a bit on the heavy side and shorter than me. I didn’t care since it was never my intention to drop my boxers for him. As we sat to chat he ordered a bunch of dishes and drinks. To be honest I didn’t touch all of them. I think I was focused on him, his flamboyance oozing off like puss from the wound. I realized that it was buried deep in him that words through Facebook couldn’t relay.

As he devoured the food in front of him, he monopolized the conversation; the place he lived, the material possessions he had as if he thought I gave a rat’s ass about all that. My initial feelings towards him melted away when I realized I was neither eating nor enjoying the moment. I kept looking at my watch as if by constant looking at it a portal would open to lead me outside of this situation; I was suffocated by the malicious aura he exhibited. I knew this was the first and last time I would meet him. He simply wasn’t what I was looking for. I think he made matters worse when after having finished digging into his food he went on to declare that he had taken a room upstairs. He gave me the final emancipation from the claws of a night I had already detested. I left.

Next day, the gentleman started off sending me text messages. In no time he had sent me money through Mpesa. I didn’t reply and I had no intention of consuming whatever he was throwing at me. I decided the best course of action would be not to reply all the text messages he was sending to me.

Few days later I happened to me ambulating around town with one of a buddy of mine when I saw his car. You see I have a knack of remembering tiny details like the plate number when his car pulled into the driveway of the hotel when we first met. I was startled but I kept my cool. He was on the driver’s seat next to a plumb-looking woman next him. Bakari had his hand gripping the steering wheel and it was then that I realized his finger was glittering from the midday sun. I shattered furiously. When I met him his finger was not accompanied by anything that would have blown his cover.

I texted him instantly telling him that I have just happened to see him with a wife that he never told me he had. In the evening when the sun had finally set and my anger had subsided after being pushed aside by more important things, he texted back begging me to never tell anyone especially his wife. When he texted that was when I remembered the feeling I got when I saw him earlier that day: dirty and disgusted with myself for having a rendezvous with a married man. I think that day I regretted why I was born this way.

 

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