TINDERELLLA: A Modern LOVE STORY
I found out I was gay when I turned 32; in the middle of a threesome.
I guess that’s as good a place to start as any. After being single for way too long, I was happily bored in a relationship to a (mostly ok) black king. I’m not going to shit on the relationship because we worked great and stayed happy. Our lives forever changed one magical weekend, when brother-man, in the infinite folly of his kind, suggested that we ‘try’ having a threesome.
Me, never one to pass up on a good opportunity to make bad decisions – obviously said yes; actually I said, “Fuck Yes!” and off we went, callously swiping left and right on Tinder, to find Yes.
What can I tell you about her? Not much honestly, she was fire, for sure, but it wasn’t her specifically. I can tell you the exact moment I knew. I had a literal epiphany on why I was perennially bored in relationships.
Every time I close my eyes I get the visual. I remember vividly; cumming to my senses, my legs all scrunched up, one of my hands half choking her, the other hand gripping the couch for dear life, her nose and lips slick with my wetness and an evil smile on her face.
At that moment, I remember looking up to see brother-man standing across the room, drool and pre-cum leaking. Aki I had completely forgotten him! I remembered being so shook that he was there that for a second I thought I had been busted cheating… LOL. Of course he joined in on the fun, but that was where it begun… but it could also have been fucking Yes who had a bowl of ice and was alternating between using the ice and her tongue and her fingers inside me.
When I tasted myself on her lips, I knew me and the bros was over. It was a NWO.
That was a Fun night.
When I came out to my friend, he asked me, “Since when?” I was #offended. There is something about finding a fundamental truth about you as an adult. Everyone thinks it’s a phase.
Did I always know? IDK. Maybe. I can tell you another hot little story of the first time I kissed a girl, but I remember always following fire girls with my eyes the way my father did. I remember always feeing titillated. I love that word, titillate.
Truth is, as far back as I can remember, the little rainbow has been trying to burst up out of me. I remember back in my youth, a (slightly homophobic) lesbian panic swept through our high school. Teachers would warn us to “beware” of some girls who were doing “disgusting” things in the emergency stairs at night. I remember feeling both titillated and filled with FOMO.
HWATT? Were some of my friends meeting to do the Australian kiss? I had to see! I remember being CURIOUS to the point of changing my pee habits in the hopes that I would happen upon one of those scenes. Never found any, but I found my clit and that was a game changer. Lol
Or maybe I can tell you much more recently, in college, about that one time when I met this prim and proper Naija gal who fingered me to climax while we were snuggled up on the couch at a house party.
Jump back in the time machine to 2020, the Year of our Dark Lord and I have been dating a girl openly. *Well, as openly as you can be in Nairobi. I don’t even miss penis! (Ok, maybe a little)
I love chasing sunsets with my girlfriend. I love calling her my bitch and buying her flowers and shit. Her name is Olive and I love everything about the bitch. Especially that she is one. To give an analogy, the emotional connection feels like discovering pork as an adult after eating tofu/soy meat all your life. It has been an exhilarating experience discovering a new culture, to find new emotions in my heart and different way to express and receive love.
Being with a woman is different in the most exciting way. Our dates are unexpected and wonderful! Sometimes, we’re running errands like responsible adults but she would let me stroke her in Corona deserted parking lots. Other times, I go to her house, in a deera and no panties and we’ll smoke grass and play with scissors, then I hold her after and we fall asleep like that. We’ve been playing fast and loose – falling hard and fast with no promises in what feels like an adventure of a lifetime. I think she feels the same too.
About a month ago, after a date, I was (per usual) trying to kiss my baby goodbye, (maybe feel up on her a little). Honestly, I thought we were hidden 🙂
So I’m holding her face, kissing her softly then she jerks away suddenly and pulls away.
I open my eyes like “sup sis?” She’s frantically gesturing to me that some guys had been watching us and she thought one might have been recording. I giggled it off like, “Let them watch,” but she had lost her sense of humour and was in full fear spiral. I won’t dwell on it much but her reaction had been visceral. Yaani the fear of being found out and harmed was so deep that day, for a minute we stepped out of our fantasy love island and realised the world we live in.
That incident affected us differently. I still feel like I was ready to confront those men that day. I don’t know what I would have done but I was ready was to stand up and do something. Whereas Olive reacted by never wanting to be found out again! EVER!
We didn’t argue about it. Arguing with women is also different cause we never say what we mean. I had to learn a lot of lessons at the same time.
When I wrote the first draft of Tinderella, Olive and I were united in a neutron star collision of love. Now, sad as it may be, we mostly see each other on Instagram. I want to blame ‘the incident’ and say something deep like, ‘We should not allow fear to steal love.’ And while that is true, the truth is much more mundane.
I’m not sure how best to finish this article, for I feel very little PRIDE except for my convictions. I am a woman who occasionally enjoys the company of men, but my soul ‘likes girls’.
I feel safe, seen and understood.
I know my story is not one of triumphant discovery nor does it have a political angle. In the culture, Pride is a wonderful word; it means being true to yourself/living out and proud.
My friends know, my girlfriend and her friends knew, and I do correct people when they ask about my ‘boyfriend’. Sometimes. I know that’s not PRIDE. It burns me with shame that I am writing this anonymously, because it means I am as scared as Olive. Maybe you get scared when you see two men kissing. Maybe we’re too afraid to lose our African-ness. Maybe we’re scared to open our hearts.
Mine is kind of sad-happy story that should have warmed your heart. I wanted to tell a true story about living your true self and not letting pride/fear steal love but I guess my lesson is going to have to be ‘threesomes with your man are a bad idea.’ Either that, or this June I hope you are brave enough to be with the person you love. You choose.
Task: Listen to Young Ma for PrideMonth