Nackson spies Nwaolodo looking at him from across the room at a Victoria Island night club one Friday night. The attraction is instant like cheap noodles cooked with a boiling ring, so he scurries over to say hi and chat her up. The conversation in summary goes like this:
Nackson: Hi, my name is Nackson and I am a banker. Keystone Bank, to be exact. Can I get to know you deeply?
Nwaolodo: Nice to meet you Nackson, Here are my digits. I am on Glo network, by the way.
So Nackson and Nwaolodo exchange phone numbers. First date, they go to Sweet Kiwi for frozen yoghurt, but the cold dairy is not the only thing giving Nackson brain-freeze. He is checking out Nwaolodo’s really fit figure, and the fact that she has legs for days, like the stilts of an Atilogwu dancer. She has the kind of slim waist that deserves to be decorated with the most expensive jigidabeads. She also smells real fresh and clean, like she carries Camphor permanently in her front pockets. Nackson is no beast in the looks department either – so the attraction is mutual. At the movies, they play footsie and hold hands in the back row seats. The movie “Foxcatcher” is showing, but Nackson is only interested in his little vixen Nwaolodo.
By the end of the evening, they are shagging furiously at Nackson’s place. The sex is immaculate, orgasmic and satisfying. It is not wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am sex. No sir. Nackson lasts and lasts like a China made “I better pass my neighbor” generator running on 5 litres of diesel. Nwaolodo is thoroughly satisfied with the experience. They are sexually compatible, and decide to date each other exclusively. Months later Nackson proposes one night after 3 bouts of glorious intercourse and Nwaolodo accepts like a politician who concedes defeat after INEC announces the results. They marry, and enjoy a great sex life. All is well in world, and somewhere under the Eko Bridge in Lagos, a butterfly successfully pollinates a Hibiscus flower. Somewhere in Abuja, batches of Senators declare their assets and return stolen millions. The end, and the studio audience applaud.
However in real life, sex is not always that easy or smooth. Many times the body is willing, but the mind is weak. Or vice versa. Here are a few real life problems:
• Erectile dysfunction or penile malfunction – This wahala is tailor-made for guys. A girl you have fancied for months, finally agrees to come and “see” you at your place. You spruce your room up, remove the clothes from the bed, change the sheets, stock diesel for the generator, and send the house-help to the market to buy ingredients for jollof rice. She arrives looking the business. Before you know it, you are both exchanging saliva, as you kiss passionately like people comparing toothpaste flavors. You pull out your Gold Circle condom as she strips to the nakedness of nude, and then it all goes south, including your erection. No matter how hard she tries to arouse you, and her nakedness never helps, you fail to stand attention. She rains curses on your generation, and takes her leave. The house-help is still preparing the jollof rice.
How are you ever going to get down, if you can’t get up?
• Accidental discharge – Ever lost your NYSC discharge certificate? That would be frustrating, huh? But what about if you discharge or ejaculate prematurely without even being touched by your partner? You do not get a certificate for that. No sir, this problem is real. Smoking, bad diet, being overweight are said to be contributory causes. Sometimes being overzealous or too eager is another factor. For less serious cases caused by over-eagerness, some urban legends have recommended an anti-dote of a cocktail (no pun intended) of Guinness Stout, raw eggs, Cowbell condensed milk and Red Bull energy drink. The result? Mixed at best. A newspaper headline of Extra Extra! Man slumps and dies under runs girl during hot bout of sex in motel.
• He (or she) can’t get off without porn or weed or without paying for sex – I had a friend, who had a friend who could not have sex without being high or watching porn before or during that act. It was an addiction. It was also an affliction. Another friend of a friend could not have sex if he didn’t pay for it somehow. He had to justify it in his mind to enjoy, so he would either hire a prostitute, or take a “normal girl” out and spend on her like it was going out of fashion. Then he could have sex. If she wanted to have sex, before he took her out, it was no cigar. I hear he has managed to get married. How could he consummate the marriage, with his strange kink of having to pay for sex? He overpaid the girl’s dowry.
• People who want to replicate the sexual styles they see on TV or in porn movies – despite the fact that they do not have the physical fitness or constitution or logistics for this Kama Sutra styles. Have you ever had a girl say “Please carry me, and shag me against the wall.” Eh no babe, remember that I am an unfit, unstrong man who even struggles to bend to lace his own shoes.
Or when a guy wants to do reverse cowboy but does not have the girth or length for such an enterprise.
• There are those that are not just into sex. I know this married chick who is like that – frigid and rigid. She is totally asexual. It is not a matter of whether she feels attraction for her partner or if he stimulates her long enough. She is not just into intercourse. Her frustrated husband tried everything. On Valentine’s day he bought her La Senza lingerie sleep set, and had warming lube at the ready. She changed into pajama trouser set to sleep the next night and wrapped herself with a thick blanket excluding him. In frustration he went to the living room, and sat up all night watching Africa Magic. They have been to counselors, mediators, relatives, pastors, spiritualists, doctors, Esco, the works. They might have well have gone to the police, because the only way she would have consistent, non-biological sex with him is at gunpoint. She sees sex for procreation and not recreation, and she laid there while her husband did his thing. Mssschew… please pass me the tissue when you are finished.
No field of human endeavor is perfect, and neither is sexing. The media via Hollywood, Nollywood, Yollywood and the music industry sell an unrealistic view of sex. Sex is not always as smooth it looks in the Durex adverts, or in that movie where the couple cannot wait to get home and tear their clothes off each other, and so hump in the bar bathroom stall (with all the smells and faeces in the toilet). In real life, there are frustrations, inhibitions, physical unfitness, dry vaginas, failed libidos plus NEPA takes light. It can be short, nasty and brutish. It would be foolish to think that everyone else is tearing down walls in the bedroom, while in reality they may be living with blue balls and cold showers. And Vaseline.
How is your sex life?
They say sex is a weapon/
So when I shoot, meet your death in less than 8 seconds/
Jay-Z “Ain’t Nobody”
Esco is a lampoonist, content provider and the convener of the blog Literati: Satires On Nigerian Life (www.woahnigeria.wordpress.com), which is a colloquium to project the conditions of every Nigeria in a discourse and inspire young people all over the world. He, along with Jide Shadipe are also the founders of Mass Appeal (www.massappealent.net) which is a start-up promotions and recreation solutions company which supports stakeholders and clients in the entertainment, performance, content and style businesses by creating a showcase agora from the concept stage to the mass markets. He is currently working on his memoirs.
It is this essayist’s frank observation that when we spoof, we laugh, and when we laugh, we remember, and when we recall, we learn, and when we learn, we understand, and when we understand, we empathize, and when we empathize, we love. Life imitates Art. Art irrigates Life. Satire is the new attire. He tweets at @Escowoah.
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