Crap I Get On Grindr – XIII – Lagos Edition

Got into Lagos last week, switched on Scruff and a warning popped up.

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Warning unheeded and most days bored while stuck in traffic in sweltering heat in an Uber/Taxify taxi with air conditioning blowing hot air, I browsed Grindr (which by the way doesn’t have a similar warning) and picked up a life few lessons along the way.

  1. Be au fait with the slang or miss out on a promising shag

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Press Statement

Some of you may have noticed the lack of updates on the blog since the beginning of the year. I have had to take some time off blogging due to a couple of  life changing events recently, which have caused me to pause and do some deep soul-searching.

As part of the introspection, I had to review past blog entries and I realised that though I enjoy sharing my experiences with the blog followers (all five of you), the entries came from a place of deep pain, caused by a myriad of unresolved issues.  

To paraphrase my therapist, I have so much anger in me, that I need an outlet for my frustration and I unconsciously use the blog to vent. Without the blog as a channel of release I may have let off the pent up anger through other channels, which may not be socially or legally acceptable.

In the process of this catharsis, I may or may not have been (I am leaning towards the latter) exclusionary in my writing and may have offended some moral sensibilities and possibly infringed a human right or two.

For example, my contempt for flat arses, aversion to unprepared bottoms, scepticism of the use of PrEP within certain demographics and my predilection for muscular and masculine men, to the exclusion of other body types and deportments when it comes to sex, are common features throughout the blog.

In this non-binary, cis averse, pansexual, self labelling, gender bending, liberal left centrist, politically hypersensitive, woke world that we live in, this sort of narrative has no place on a LGBTQIA+∞ themed blog. Also, with the internet’s capacity to keep receipts ad infinitum, it wouldn’t be a good look for me if in future I launched an Onlyfans page or was plucked from relative obscurity and cast as the lead in an all-inclusive LGBTQIA+∞ stage production. (Guy’s gotta dream, right?)

So after posting a spate of shags in which flat arses were neglected, numerous private Grindr messages, conversations with my barber, a raft of on Social media suspensions and introspection facilitated by circa one hundred hours of therapy, it is with deep regret and sadness, but with gratitude to God for a blog life well spent that I, Kasiemobi Erectus Ricardo Elemuwa Dike Isiaku Mojéishu, on this day Monday 1stApril 2019, have decided to make this post my last blog entry.

I have also chosen this day and platform to announce my bid for President of the United States of America in the 2020 presidential elections. I believe for America to be truly great again, her Presidency needs to be outsourced….away from Russia.

 

Thank you.

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Crap I Get On Grindr – XII – Lost In Translation

So the other day someone hit me up on Grindr……

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I did my due diligence to see if his profile checks out…..

Screenshots - 2 of 7He didn’t like Unsafe sex & drugs; Presumably likes rub downs; Not sure what’s happening with Instagram and the last one….WTF?!!?

He doesn’t like Black Americans???

I always say to people who get offended by such racially exclusive Grindr profiles, to move on to the next profile. It’s only Grindr. It’s not real life and it won’t impact your livelihood. The Real Sexual Racism

But I was curious to know why this fellow still contacted me. I don’t state my nationality on my profile. How does he know I am not black American?

So against my own advice, (which technically I didn’t do, as he contacted me first) I sought clarity…..

 

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His response indicated he wasn’t into Black guys at all.

Then why the fuck did he send me a message.

At this point I became furious and sent a message without checking for grammar and spelling as you probably may notice…..

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Now he appeared to be back into all black guys.

But I still wanted to know if Black Americans were excluded from his magnanimous hoe-ness……

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Oh wow, he relaxed his rules. He must have been really horny to want to hook up with black Americans. And now that we have cleared up the confusion he wants to get back on track.

But still I wanted an explanation for the initial exclusion from his whoredom……

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And then I got the told….

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Doh!!!🤦🏾‍♂️🤦🏾‍♂️

I had to laugh.

Didn’t RuPaul Charles something like  “If you can’t laugh at yourself, how the hell are you going to laugh at someone else?” 

Happy New Year!!!!

 

 

Blowing In The Wind

When I observe some behaviours  around me in my daily, I ponder why they take place.

For example: 

  1. During rush hour on the London Underground, why is it twenty passengers get off the train, only five passengers can squeeze back on? Meanwhile when a beggar comes through the same train carriage passengers quickly make way for him to pass, creating a wide path Moses wished he had at the crossing of the Red sea.
  2. On a busy pavement why do some people walk with their head down, eyes glued to their mobile phones and expect me to walk around them?
  3. After waiting in line to be served at the cinema snack stand, why don’t people know what they want before it gets to their turn to be served?
  4. After being alone in an empty room for minutes on end, why do people walk in right after I fart?

The last behaviour galled me earlier this year.

I usually go to the gym very early in the morning when it’s not busy. At that time, there are usually 10 – 12 regular members in a gym that could easily take 100 members, during peak periods of the day. In addition to not having to wait to use machines or weights,  another advantage of going to my gym early in the morning, is the demographic of the members at that time. It is highly urban. (read “Black”), so the possibility of not seeing a bubble butt, is quite low.

Among the early morning regulars are two young black French guys in their mid-twenties who are quite friendly and always say hello to me. Both have smooth dark skin, are both about 6ft tall and built like professional athletes. Their chests are about 42 inches wide tapering into a 30 inch waist. Then their glutes are hard to ignore, there is no second-guessing their presence. They are well formed, round and set high above their equally muscular legs. God took time moulding and baking those chocolate cakes

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When it comes to the derriere, those boys are truly blessed and they know it. I have never seen them wearing loose fitting gym clothes, their gym outfits are always form fitting, accentuating their glutes and overall body musculature. Some days I can make out their abdominal muscles through their tight gym tops – one spots an 8- pack, the other a 6-pack. 

They work out together and some mornings, if I am working out in the same gym area as they are, I would spend and extend rest periods between exercise reps, watching them and fantasising about the things I would do to those glutes.

I would imagine them butt naked in bed and me squeezing each guy’s butt cheek and playfully gnawing away at the other. Then I would explore each hole and spell out their names with my tongue, bringing them both to a point where they would beg for more and give me more names to spell out with my tongue.

 

Then when I am done with the spelling bee, I would sheath myself and take them one after the other while the other watched or participated in some way, while waiting his turn. Sometimes, I’d imagine one was versatile and I would enter him from behind while he ravaged the other one; or I would finger them both while they fucked. Or I would finger one while fucking the other. The permutations of the positions are endless in my fantasy.

These extensive rest periods would probably explain why I spend 2 hours in the gym, 4-5 times a week and still haven’t achieved the well chiselled bodies I see on Instagram.  

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I don’t even know if the French guys are straight or gay, nor the relationship between them – whether they are lovers, friends, siblings or cousins. But whatever their sexual orientation (straight preferred) my fantasy remains. (Hopefully they are not related, that would be gross)

Anyway, one early morning –it was legs day- I was using one of the four squat racks in the entire gym. The other regular early morning gym goers, including the stars of my spelling bee fantasy, were in other parts of the gym. I was alone in the vast gym are, with a plethora of gym equipment and my thoughts on how I was going to power through the back squat exercise routine.

I got myself in the start position, with the barbell resting on the top of my back. Feet shoulder weight apart and slightly turned out. Shoulder blades squeezed back together, abs tight and braced with my hips driven back slightly. I inhaled, sat nice and slow till my thighs were parallel to the floor. Paused, exhaled and powered back up to the start position.

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The perfect squat (even if I say so myself) except that on the way back up, I involuntarily let one off and the air around me became noxious on account of the ewa agoyin (beans), I ate for dinner the previous night. (I chronicle what happens when I eat ewa agoyin here). Though I had done the needful as nature intended before coming to the gym that morning, there was still a little more work to be done.  

Then I heard someone yell behind me to my right “Mon dieu! Vite, courir!!” My God! Quick, run. 

I turned my head slightly to the right, just in time to catch the two French guys avec firm butts and their noses covered, beating a hasty retreat towards the doors of the gym area, with their firm butts disappearing out of sight.

I must have been in the “zone” when I was doing the squat, because I didn’t notice when they appeared behind me. And I do not know why they chose that moment to come to my section of the gym. There were other squat racks and gym equipment at the other far end of the vast gym floor, well away from the not so fragrant air around me.

Again I ask why do people walk into the room just after I have farted?  I am sure the answer can’t be blowing in the wind. 

This happened in June and I haven’t seen them since. 

It is now December

Crap I Get On Grindr – XI

I honestly can’t remember the last time in the past 12 months a Grindr conversation in London, has converted into a shag for me.

I am largely to blame for this.

Increasingly I am finding Grindr to be an endless source of mirth (second only to the current progress of Brexit negotiations with the EU) rather than a source of sexual gratification. I can’t seem to get past the content of the profile of the guys sending me messages without finding something hilarious about them. And I completely loose interest most times when I read the message.

I really need to change my mindset as I am not getting laid (via Grindr at least 😊) and I feel I am beginning to fall into the group of Time wasters on the app. Or maybe I am too discerning.

I have curated a few examples of what I have seen and done. And I also added a few from a friend of mine who was going through a particularly hard time, when he replied to messages.

I think this one will be waiting a long time……

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I can’t put my finger on it, but there is something not quite right about this profile. A “Daddy without Sugar”?? 🤷🏾‍♂️

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I actually felt sorry for this one. I felt his pain…Poor chap lives in London too.. 😢😢IMG_0603

There is alway one….🙄

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When all else fails, throw money at it…..😏

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This one said he was an “Oral top” and I wanted to know what that meant:

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So my friend Etuk Inyama Etuk, an avid amateur tennis player and Serena Williams fan, was having a really hard time accepting her recent defeat at the US Tennis open. Rather than slam his racket on the tennis court, he took to Grindr to vent his frustration

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New York Gay Pride 2018

I was in New York when the gay pride took place last weekend.

The shops in New York city were filled with pride merchandise and corporate offices and the streets were festooned with Rainbow colours.

The theme this year was “Defiantly Different” and because of the current  political climate in America, it felt to me like the entire march was giving the collective middle finger to the White house.

New Yorkers certainly know how to throw a party and everyone turned out. I can say that the Pride parade was definitely different from any Pride event I have attended. And I have attended a few.

Here are a few pictures from the parade

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Ms. Billie Jean King

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This is Wakanda!!!!

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Cynthia Nixon Side shot

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Officer Owens

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Officer Owens — Bum, sorry Gun

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“He’s my Bodyguard!!!!!”

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Sen Chuck Schumer (D) – With Sweat patch

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Gov Andrew Cuomo (D)

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“He’s my OTHER bodyguard!!!!!”

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Ms. A. Mess

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Mayor Bill Blasio & Chirlane McCray

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Eureka

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Eureka and Kameron michaels

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Asia O’Hara

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Ms. A. Mess II

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Upskirting

Upskirting is a term used to describe the act of taking a photograph up someone’s skirt without their permission.  In most reported cases women are the victims and no men –I guess Kilt wearing Scots –  have come forward to complain.

The sexually invasive act was set to be made a criminal offence in the UK parliament this week, but a 70 year-old Conservative MP gleefully blocked it on some parliamentary procedural technicality, causing him to face a lot of backlash on social media.  But this post is not about heaping abuse on some privileged, same sex marriage hating, climate change denying, misogynist neanderthal, who has used parliamentary procedures to advance his own lecherous voyeuristic sexual perversions, but rather it is to address a little deviance of my own.

It is no secret my obsession with the male gluteus maximus and by which I mean tangible buttocks. Butts you can behold with thine eyes.  Not the unfortunate flat non-existent ones a friend of mine aptly describes as “extended backs”. Sometimes I wonder what the owners of such bums must have done in a former life, or indeed what their ancestors did, to warrant such an omission by God when he was handing out butts.

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No, I mean Bubble butts. Visible cakes. Butts you spank and the sound reverberates around the room and collides with the moans emitted from its owner with each spank, while ravaging him from behind.

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Or the butts you can grab and hold on to for dear life, as its owner bucks away furiously on top of you in reverse cowgirl position, like a jockey racing his horse towards the finish line.  Yes, those kind of butts.

It’s crazy because one of the first things I do when I see any remotely attractive guy in public is to discreetly check out the backside. I have always said if I was ever to identify a male crime suspect in a Police line-up, I would have to ask them to turn around to give a positive ID. Such is my obsession.

Recently, I have taken this infatuation a bit further – I now use my smart phone to take discreet pictures of guys with bubble butts. This could be in the street, on the underground, on the bus or sometimes at the gym.Bubble Butt_4

This morning while trying to take a picture of the bubble butt on a guy walking in front of me, I had an epiphany – as I tripped and came crashing hard on the pavement and aggravated an old shoulder injury in the process – that in some ways this could be similar to Upskirting but perpetrated on men.

It has the same hallmarks  – taking pictures of someone’s butt without their permission and it could be seen as a sexual intrusion into their privacy.  It is only a matter of time before men (hopefully those with bubble butts) in the name of equality, start campaigning for their own version of the law to be passed.

So in order to avoid any possible future embarrassment – you never know I might run for public office, I spent a good part of the morning while waiting to be seen by a Doctor at the A&E department, deleting images of bubble butts I took over the last few months. They were in their hundreds.

I am not sure what was more traumatic – the excruciating shoulder pain before being given strong pain killers or the agony of deleting those pictures.

 I think I need Jesus….

I wonder if He has a bubble butt….🤔

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Crap I Get On Grindr X – Job Hunter

Multifunctional

I have come across some profiles in recent times, that you would be forgiven for thinking that Grindr was a job app like LinkedIn rather than a hook up app.

And the way I flip between apps on my iPad and being a certified simpleton, one of these days I think I just might respond to a message in LinkedIn with one intended for Grindr.

I struggle to see how being a graduate would help one’s quest for a shag on Grindr.

It is as if by declaring “I went to college”, I would say “Brilliant, bring your skinny arse over and let me ravage it”

The other day, one guy sent me a message accompanied with dick and butt pics. When I checked his profile he proudly proclaimed that he had a PhD and was looking for a serious relationship.

Last weekend a “High flying lawyer” in central London sent me pictures of his chiselled body but flat behind, offering to split the Uber fare if I came over to his place. Cheapstake. How did I know he is a “High flying lawyer“? Yes, that’s correct. It’s on his profile.

It got me thinking. If we all listed our academic and career achievements on Grindr, mine might read something like:

“City Analyst/Full time bitch/ Part time hoe.  BSc (Unical), BEng(Unilag), Msc (Buckingham), ACA, FCA, MBA(Imperial), PhD (Harvard), CPA, LLB, LLM, CITP, AGILE, PRINCE2. Top, looking for NSA, drug free safe sex with bottoms. PLEASE be Athletic/Muscular with a clean butt.” 

Then maybe a gay MD of an FTSE 100 company would offer me a job post coitus.  I guess I wouldn’t have to worry if got the job due to affirmative action.  Assertive action definitely but not affirmative …but I digress….

Unfortunately, these accomplished erudite punters like the slim ones mentioned above, just don’t bother reading profiles or do, but lack basic English language comprehension, for why else would they reach out to me when our profiles don’t match?!!

When people complain that Grindr has killed romance in the gay community , I often reply that Grindr is exactly what we want it to be:-

It could be a quick hook up app; A source of amusement (both uses I subscribe to, though since Nov 20 2016 it’s been more of  the latter than the former) or; an app leading to a long term relationship culminating in a globally televised wedding, featuring a black preacher and gospel choir in a typical English Church, prompting inane comments from British television pundits about “never seeing so many black people at a wedding before”.

But job hunting certainly wasn’t one of the uses I had in mind for Grindr.

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Wild Thoughts

The hustle is real, so off to work I go.

I do the 10 minute walk to the London Underground station. I have my headphones on. I am listening to music from my “recently played” playlist set on random selection mode. There are 175 songs. Means songs from Classical, Musicals, Pop, RnB, Gospel, Hip Hop, Afrobeat and possibly Apala music genres can start playing any time. I like the unpredictability.

The sassy song “Trouble” by Iggy Azelea ft. Jennifer Hudson is currently playing.  

I get to the Tube station and the platform is crowded.  About 3 people deep from the edge of the platform, there is some delay on the line. I was hoping for a trouble free journey into work today.

And right on cue, Andra Day starts singing “Not Today” in my ears with her mellow and soul stirring voice .

I maneuver myself into position on the section of the platform, where I can get on the carriage nearest the exit when the train arrives at my stop. Most people do this.

I am behind a young interracial couple. They are probably in their mid to late twenties. She white, blonde, about 5’7” tall, wearing light make up and a body hugging short black dress, that accentuates her curves. He Indian, stands at roughly 5’10”, athletic build, wearing a blue turban on his head and a light pink shirt tucked into a pair of grey slim fitting trousers and holding a gym bag. I assume he will be going to the gym at some point in the day. They look so loved up.

Tina Turner starts to serenade me with “Two People”. How sweet.

I steal a look at this bum. It would be rude not to. It is visible. Not flat. Not big, but round and firm. It complements his athletic body nicely. I know I shouldn’t foster stereotypes, but for an Indian, “Baby got back”.  Would I tap that?  Most likely, but that’s not up to me. He kinda looks hella straight. I will call him Ramdeep.

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Two busy trains come into the platform in succession. No one gets off from the carriage we are positioned in front of, so no one gets on. Shit I will be late for a meeting at work. A third one comes in. Some passengers get off and more people on the platform try to occupy the space they vacate. Back in the day, in Lasgidi (Lagos), I learned how to squeeze myself into a crowded Molue bus. If they think I will forget those skills for the sake of propriety, they have another thing coming.

Molue

I manage to get on.

Fela Kuti starts playing  “Shuffering and Shmilling” through my headphones. The line in the song “49 sitting and 99 standing” very much describes the situation in the train carriage. The rest of the song, though released over 30 years ago, highlights endemic corruption which is still very pertinent to Nigeria…But I digress.

It’s a tight squeeze. My back is pressed against the carriage door. Ramdeep with the nice cakes, is in front of me. He is facing his girlfriend with his back to me and his firm round butt just about grazing my groin area. Any slight movement and it will brush against me for sure.

I press my back as much as I comfortably can against the door, to create a respectable distance between my groin and his butt. I won’t be in this position for too long. Maximum 3 minutes.  The next stop has connections to other underground lines and a good number of passengers will get off.

The train sets off. 30 seconds into the journey, something causes Ramdeep to move back a bit. Perhaps being the attentive boyfriend that he is, he is trying to give his girlfriend a bit of space to ease the crush on her. Not sure if he is aware but, he just entered the unspoken allowable personal space of an adjacent individual in a packed train.

I don’t say anything. No point causing a fuss. Besides if he doesn’t mind his backside just about resting on another man’s groin…more power to him.

Now, his butt is grazing my groin and he unconsciously mirrors the slight rocking motion of the train, only he is subtly swaying back and forth into me.

Christina Aguilera  croons “Want your skin up against mine. Move my hips to the baseline…” from her song “Get mine, Get yours” from the playlist. 

Oh Lord, this is not good.  It would be over in about 2 and a half minutes. Wrong.Read More »