Tuesday, June 18, 2013


You really want to hear the punch line of Ralph's long joke. But three beers weigh down on your bladder. You wonder whose bright idea it was to put the bathroom down in Australia. He is looking at you now as he tells the joke; now that you are supporting yourself on your chair, preparing to get up. It will be rude to just go now, so you wait for him to turn his attention to someone else. You smile even though you have stopped listening to him. Suddenly his girlfriend gets up to go to the bathroom. You relax. You will hold this until she returns.

You have made the mistake of taking one more sip from the damn Star bottle. The one evil sip sends you running across the field to the bathroom. They laugh, all three of your friends.

You manage to get out your penis just in time. As you wet the toilet seat, you do not care; there was no time to aim before letting go. Running has made you a bit dizzy, tipsier. As you walk out into the darkness just past the wild lemon grass you almost bump into her, Ralph's girlfriend. You both laugh. You both say it at the same time: 'I think I am high.' She in English, you in Hausa. You giggle and high-five. As both your hands come down, they do not disengage. At first it feels like she is the one holding on, but you realise you are also doing it. Holding on. Your heart pounds; you realize what is happening, quickly. Then without words you both step back into the darkness behind the lemon grass and it starts to happen- the locking of lips that you know is nothing but trouble. Your hands reach for her breasts. You knead, at first too roughly, then gently. She doesn't stop you. You do not stop. Drunken footsteps approach and she pulls away, just as your fingers have found her nipples, beneath her blouse. 'Wait two minutes,' she says and walks away.

You are glad that they are all getting drunker and can’t notice your discomfort. You try not to look at her but when you do, she is laughing deliriously and rubbing the back of her boyfriend’s head. She too has stopped drinking. The erection you now have, her laughter which you now notice rings out in a way that is exaggerated and false, her boyfriend's drunken chatter and swearing, make you angry.

As you all say goodbye, leaving the beer garden, you look into her eyes, asking with yours: what the hell was that?. She smiles back but she says nothing with her eyes. Just a nice-to-hang-out-and-goodbye kind of smile. A that-really-amazing-stolen-kiss/grope-means-nothing-to-me kind of smile. You get it; it cuts you, deep.


  1. Shit happens. She won't leave her boyfriend for someone she doesn't know na. Blame it on the alchol

  2. This is exactly why I don't drink. I am a control freak and I hate to lose control to anyone not to talk of something inanimate. Great post though


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