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Dog House with Esco: Kiss and Tell
Dog House with Esco is a column for men, by a man. Women are welcome, too! {Click here to read the introduction}
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I remember my first real kiss. It was a juicy snog with my first real girlfriend, in my first proper relationship. She was sweet 15, I was 14. She was a cougar. I was Simba waiting to be trampled upon by a female wildebeest. She was fresh-breathed, classy and fit. I was a legendary slacker with teenage acne who panted halfway up a flight of stairs.
But as I said, it was a juicy snog with my first real girlfriend, in my first proper dalliance with a daughter of Eve. Not an imaginary chick I had fabricated as I told tall tale stories to my bewildered secondary school friends, boasting of my prowess at bagging chicks. Not a Karishika I had propositioned in my wet dreams, fuelled by adolescent testosterone as my mum hissed at my soiled sheets.
Nah, kissing Temi was the real deal. In fact, smooching Temi was the realest thing I had done till that age. Convincing hot, cute, popular and intelligible Temi to swap saliva recipes with me, was the biggest accomplishment I had had, to that point.
It was a glorious act of tonsil ping-pong. An Igbo French-kiss. Ever heard of one of those – you “chop” the girl’s mouth like an agbaya glutton wolfing down a Scooby snack.
She had come over to mine to hang briefly and say her goodbyes, since she was going off the boarding school the next day. Summer vacation had ended, and we would not see until the mid-term break.
It was innocent; it was sweet; it was brief. A lot of things were brief in those days. Except female underwear – those were humungous. Except for children’s clothes too – those were always oversized. Thank goodness for Gap Kids.
I briefed my friends when I got to school the next week. They were bewildered at my beginner’s luck.
The freak among us, a chap nicknamed Illegal coerced me for more information “Did you ruff her?” with his eyes bulging with excitement.
“Ruff” was slang for ‘hitting 2nd base. Hitting 2nd base was fondling and squeezing her breasts, chests and nipples. 3rd base was not in on the cards back then – that was too advanced for JS3.
3rd Base was the name of a hip-hop band, in my innocent mind. 3rd Base to me is a volume dial to crank up the sound of the drums on an Aiwa jukebox.
My friends were gathered in a circle and it was an inquisition, I dared not fail. As they egged me on for info, I grudging affirmed. Yes, I had stroked her mammary glands during our passionate embrace. Yes, I hate baseball, but I batted.
The fellas screamed my praises! Esco Baba!! Illegal looked at me with a trance and bewilderment in his eyes, like I had just performed an incredible feat to advance the cause of man-kind. He was a 15-year old snog virgin, you see.
New travels fast, even between schools. Somehow one of my circle told someone, who told someone, and then word got to Temi in another school of my “kiss and tell”. Of how I was boasting of “pressing” her milk-factories. You couldn’t make it up.
She was angry and nearly broke up with me. Childish as it sounds now, it was a big deal then.
We dated for a few years after then, then broke things off and remained friends. Our lives had moved in different directions – but there were no hard feelings. There were no tantrums or daggers exchanged over social media. I did not try to rub in the fact that I had moved on, by uploading a picture of my foxy new girlfriend on the Gram.
I had nearly lost my precious girlfriend because I kissed and told. I smooched and snitched. Do you know why a snake’s tongue is split? Like some kind of punishment? Maybe it is the reason why it crawls on its belly.
What happened with Temi was child’s play compared to these days.
Romeo meets Bae at a networking event in middle Lagos. They swap numbers, and that evening they swap messages. After days of obsessive chatting, the fairytale descends into parental guidance.
Romeo sends Bae a Whatsapp photo of his banana, and the she retaliates by snapping and forwarding a picture of her ample water melons. But he wants more, and soon they are exchanging full frontal photos of each other like Adam and Eve when they had walked in the nakedness of the nude in the Garden of Eden. They even share an Apple. Yep, an iPhone sex video of both of them. Things come to a bitter end like an unripe agbalumo when he starts sharing photos of her nudes with friends, and it goes viral.
In this era where a guy is likely to proposition a girl by saying “Baby make we shoot film na” , just after she had agreed to come over to his for Netflix and Chill, “kiss and tell” has now become “show and prove”. It is amazing how many girls – and boys are ready to send nudes of themselves on request. It is as easy as ABC. As risqué as XXX. As quick as 1,2,3. And sometimes one party ends up betrayed like 419
Now, when fellas discuss their sexual escapades of the night before with their mates, many times their friends require some kind of proof as the story is incomplete, especially if the girl is a hottie in demand. Documentary evidence in the form of videos and photos are highly admissible. Word of mouth is as cheap as the air it floats on.
Bedmatics are filmed on a Samsung phone, and it is common to be forwarded an unsolicited Whatsapp chain message video of a dude and a chick who had either lost the sex recording.
Or it may be stills of be some lap dance or nudes of some chick made because her boyfie had requested it, or she had done it for his eyes only. Then, homeboy showed it to his best pal and told him to keep it a secret. Best friend forwarded it to a mutual friend, until everyone sees it. Sometimes it starts as blackmail, then descends into a farce.
Everyone will swear on a cutlass, that they would not dare allow themselves be recorded butt naked, but I have seen it far too often, to think it is just the habit of a silent majority.
Maybe it’s the lawyer in me. But my thing is never to allow a recording of anything you cannot stand by. Conquerors destroy history books; history is the biography of the victor.
I am not sure to play morality police and tell anyone whether and how to film themselves in the nude and forward to their love interest for kicks. I would have not minded being in the movie business myself, but writers are entertainers that are too unattractive for the screen. So we cower behind verbiage rather than glorious edification of video
One time, the fiancée of a girl I used to date long long time ago, contacted me out of the blue to ask me about her “sex secrets.” According to him, he was in two minds whether to go for it, and had heard she was a bit of a freak.
I dismissed his investigative questions summarily: “Nah fam, I don’t kiss and tell. Besides imagination is better than knowledge”
You’d be alright, bro.
Photo Credit: Dreamstime
