blinks40

I used to go to bed with everybody. My
Father being a bisexual taught me from the earliest age that girls loved men who loved sex. He
explained to me, at age eight, what an orgasm
was. He described "the
most wonderful feeling in the whole world"
and promised that one day I'd have that
feeling too. I couldn't wait. He also liked to
tell me how I was conceived in an airplane
bathroom on a short flight between Paris and
London, and when we flew together he
would remind me of it whenever I got up to
pee. The story became part of my identity, like
my black hair.
To my Nigerian mother, sex was the world's only
effective currency, and as a grown man I
believed that every restaurant dinner, every
conversation, was a pulse beating toward a
single, inevitable outcome—the lingering step
out onto the sidewalk, then to the front door;
lowered eyes, the pointless offer of coffee, the
bed made just for coming back to, an inviting
white pillow into which I could bury my face......