Published on July 11th, 2012 | by The Alchemist134
For Colored Men: White
‘That Dirty White’ by @TTXIII
“It is a simple matter of discipline.”
I first said these words to Lara in the toilet beside SS2C as she clutched at her pinafore, straining to regain some measure of decency. I was zipping up my trousers – a particularly difficult thing to do when you have an erection – not unlike wrestling with a hungry alligator. She looked strangely pitiful and her face was a mural painted in several pigments of shame and regret. I later realized that she had been hurt in some primal way by my refusal to have sex with her after we had spent almost 30 minutes kissing and touching and sucking and fingering and licking and…well…you get the idea. After, goading, threatening and eventually; begging and pleading, she had finally given up and asked the first question they all asked when they inevitably came to the realization that actual intercourse was not to be.
“How can you do all that and not want to have sex?”
And so I told her.
I really don’t understand men. Oh, women are easy to figure out. It’s all cat-string theory with them. It’s other men that I don’t understand. This illogical fascination with exploring female private parts with our penile probes just boggles my mind. Maybe this is why I have no close male friends. To hear some men talk, you would think our penises were blackberries and vaginas were chargers. They make it seem like they desperately need to ‘plug-in’ every few hours lest they die.
Let me tell you something.
Come on, come closer.
Are you listening?
P*ssy is not that important.
It really is that simple. Think about it.
No, really…Stop thinking about P*ssy and think about it.
How does inserting your penis into a vagina make you any more or less of a man than you already are? Ok, it feels good. True. Excellent. And so f*ck what?
Pardon my French and the bad pun.
Don’t get me wrong. I enjoy women’s bodies and sexual exploration as much as any other man but there is just something about ‘going all the way’ and the immense amount of effort the entire male portion of the species spends on it that confounds me. Haven’t you fellows ever heard of the 80—20 rule? Yes, I will get my pleasure but I don’t have to go through a vagina to get it.
The final mystery of my manhood is mine to keep
Although the sea of carnal passion is wet and wide and deep
And I am constantly tempted to partake of its feast
I refuse. For in its pursuit, man is easily turned to beast
Some say sex is a basic human need. Just like food. I don’t disagree. If sex is food and abstinence is starvation, then what I am is a vegetarian. I still eat… Just not meat. In case you’re slow, in this analogy, meat is P*ssy and I decided long ago to be a vegetarian until I get married. Now, just like being a vegetarian, fasting, going on a diet, and any other activity that involves resisting food; abstaining from p*ssy is a simple matter of discipline.
Vivian asked me as she knelt down topless, on the floor of my room in Olaomo Apartments just outside the main campus, a strange design of confusion etched onto her pretty face as she slowly came to terms with the fact I was serious about not having sex with her. As with Lara, she had been hurt in a fundamental way by my constant and consistent refusal of her sexual advances and so in frustration and confusion, she asked the second question they all ask. Just as with Vivian, it is usually accompanied by a look that resides somewhere between bewilderment and contempt – depending on how far we have gone or how much I have allowed her do to in her campaign for sexual conquest.
I just don’t want to have sex.
My virtues may not be pure but being off-white sits just fine with me. I think a little dirt gives my color some character. I am ‘technically’ a virgin and I’d like it to stay that way. Is that really so hard to believe?
I know from experience that this answer never satisfies anyone and so they start jumping to conclusions and reaching for far-fetched explanations.
Like some of you are doing right now.
You think I’m a religious nut? Ask Pastor Tosin when the last time he saw me walk through the gates of his church was and you will hastily review your reasoning. And no, I don’t believe in soul-ties or spirit-links or ghost-ropes or wraith-threads or any of that other bullshit that these modern day Pentecostal pastors use to preach abstinence to sheepish young children. I don’t have anything against those that do believe in these things, I just don’t believe in them myself.
You think I’m Gay? Ask Nike’s nipples or Tolu’s thighs or Bisi’s breasts or Halima’s hands or even Mosun’s mouth. Again, you will review your thinking. No, I am not a homosexual. I love women; I love their minds and their bodies. What I do not love is their attendant wahala. But that has little to do with my decision. In fact, very little has anything to do with my decision at all. I just don’t want to have full-on sex until I’m married.
Like a sailor plotting a great expedition
Into my beloved sea I make many small excursions
But I never sail too far from the safety of shore
Until the day will come when I sail away to return no more
I have done many sexual things with many women. But the actual act of intercourse is one I have stayed away from and I always tell them up front – it won’t happen. Flirt with a woman and she instantly thinks all you want is sex. Take sex away from the equation and she chases after it like a rabid beast. It’s all Cat-string theory. If you say you don’t want to have sex with her, she doesn’t believe you. Then she flirts harder. You play along. She teases. You press advantage. But when the final moment comes and she thinks she has won, you withhold. And she is shocked.
Errr… Madam, why the surprise?
Facial expressions change and then the questions start to come.
I get tired of answering the questions.
If I were a lesser man, I would enjoy the confusion on their faces. They always ask themselves even harder questions after asking me and receiving answers that do not satisfy them.
But I am not and I do not.
I feel bad for them. Struggling so hard to comprehend and yet approaching the matter from the completely wrong direction.
Funmi had that familiar look of confusion on her face last week Saturday at my bachelor party after I finally liberated my seed into her mouth in the guest room. I had pleasured her orally a few minutes earlier and I guess she thought it was just the appetizer so she returned the favor in an attempt to spur me on.
Sorry, darling, you already had the main course.
She rinsed out her mouth and asked me to “finish the job” before I got married to Gbemi and never got the chance again. I politely refused and then that look appeared on her face, making her look shameful and ugly. It was almost as though an angry child had suddenly poured rude paint over what used to be a pretty picture. She was asking herself those same questions they all ask.
“Do I smell bad?”
“Was I too forward?”
“Am I not pretty enough?”
“Should I have held back more?”
“Is there something wrong with me?”
No darling. No.
They keep asking the wrong questions. The question they should be asking is:
“What kind of man will do everything except have sex with me…just because he can?”
And the answer is simple.
It has nothing to do with them. It has everything to do with me. Contrary to popular opinion, not all men are the same – a lesson many of them only learn to be true when I take them to the precipice of promised pleasure and them leave them there high and dry (or in this case – wet). I may not be a pure and principled man but I am a firm and disciplined one and I have always wanted my wife to be the first woman I had intercourse with just as I know she will be the last. I know you don’t get it but that’s fine by me.
None of them got it either.
Still, at the end of today when these ridiculously tedious wedding ceremonies are done and I finally plunder the pleasure of Gbemi’s womanhood with a white hot passion, I know she will ask me a question. It will probably be a variant of the same old “How did you manage to keep away from sex for so long?”
With a smile of achievement and satisfaction far beyond the simple euphoria of sexual copulation, I will whisper softly in her ear…
“I’ve told you before, darling…”
“It was a simple matter of discipline”