"I am a man. I don't dislike gays. I am neutral. However, please don't tell me how pleasurable it is when you make out with a man. I find it absolutely disgusting. The anal orifice is used for shitting, and definitely not for inserting another man's salami. Cut the crap about freedom to love and fostering inclusiveness!"
I exclaimed to a younger friend I knew in the course of work. I wasn't sure he was offended, but we often agree to disagree in our conversations. He was straight but has turned gay recently. He broke up with his younger sinkie chiobu wife of 4 years, went excessive clubbing, made a few friends from "hell", and is now a "convert" to sodomy, akin to a born again christian. I told him I wasn't against him turning gay, as this was his life choice, and I fully respected his decision. But please don't propagandize to me like a borned again christian about how great it is to have discovered "salvation", if he still wishes to be a friend with me.
I woke up this morning wondering I have been too harsh with my words during our dinner last night. I am sure I didn't cause his marital split. Yes, I admit that I had a fling with his beautiful and "energetic" wife years ago. But that's before they even got together. I was in fact date raped by her under the influence of a glass of spiked red.
I vividly remember that evening. We had dinner and drinks at Tanglin Club's Tavern and Fireplace. She had just broken up with her (then) boyfriend and needed someone to talk to. I offered my comforting shoulder. I had absolutely no lustful intentions. I can usually hold my alcohol well and couldn't believe that I would be as drunk as a skunk that night after a bottle of red. I found myself waking up at Orchard Hotel the next morning, with a beautiful and sensuously well endowed lady beside me, doing a brandoodoler foodoler, and furiously mouthing my phallus with such intense lust.
Before she mounted over me, I asked her why she's doing this. She replied "I just want to fuck you". I had wanted to end my "ordeal", but the pleasure of seeing the pair of robust penis squeezers with pink areolas overwhelmed my weakened spirit. I surrendered to her and my flesh.
I am a man after all. Is it that difficult to be one?
Epilogue
At their wedding night four years ago, we spoke briefly, while my now gay friend was entertaining his guests. She whispered in my ear, confessed that she had spiked my glass of red with half a dormicum that night. She felt embarrassed. I told her it's ok as it was in the past. I wished her a happy marriage.