I really am not fond of sugar-coating the nude reality and if I was as afraid of the truth as some of you are, then I too would not want my under-aged offspring to read this.
But since children are making children now and believe themselves to be more sexually adapt and less ignorant than the grown-ups who’ve been in the sexual trenches for millennia, I will tell it like it is.
Let’s lay out some ground rules from the onset. Please do not be vexed when you realise that I am writing about your current papisa and the dedicated team of side chicks you deliberately share him with. The number of times I have gone to bed with every two-legged, crop-top dressed inamorata is synonymous with the number of times you have prayed for teenage pregnancies to decline.
From one night stands to quickies, I was and probably still am the master at it. Since my identity remains your ‘to-know’ priority, I guess you will never know if your ‘wannabe loyal’ girlfriend was one of the jackpots I hit one night or if your boyfriend is my best friend, wing man or tag team partner.
Show me your friends and I will tell you who you are.
So I started thinking about my health over the last week and I just feel something might be wrong. I’ve observed that my assegaai is catching itchy feelings. It could be due for a service or just from being over-serviced. Maybe you should check in with your boyfriend – just to be sure.
Do you know that feeling you get when you realise that the educated fool who once upon a time told you to break the chain was indeed an IUM HIV-AIDS Management graduate? A northern cheer-leader-cum-governor has advised the entire nation, including the Namas, to make babies in order to attract investors to the country. The gwerrie-metrosexual politician has been informed that the Namibian population, not corruption and WhatsApp gossips, has scared investors to come to the Land of Hage & Geingob. But I bet he is only telling us to follow his example and lifting his middle finger to Haufiku and his Smile condoms.
Back to my topic. It’s not funny. For the first time I used Google for the right reason, to look up symptoms for STIs. Guess what? Ahh, you do not want to know.
I guess the whole time I just thought everyone itches from an ingrown hair or two. At least I still weigh above 50kg, not as stereotypically ill and skinny and my lips are not the wrong shade of pink.
Red flags aside, I continue to provide for the needy and wake up on the right side of the wrong bed. Let’s face it, most of my chicks (and I am sure many of you) have no time to investigate the spear that stabs them. And just like your cheating boyfriend, I do not really make the time to inspect down there.
Time is of the essence. Besides it’s rude to sniff food at your neighbour’s table. Eat now and shit later.
So I focused my thoughts on my long chain from Ndapanda to Ndawapeka and Julia. I do not know my septet’s HIV status. And for sure they also do not know mine. So what if I am sick and I hit the share button? Harambee mos.
I know for sure that many of us good Samaritans are more afraid to get the wrong chick (there are those, just so you know) pregnant than to get that shitty virus. And the opposite is very true also.
The results came out and yeah, negative. You know that moment when you get a missed call from bra death and you are like “thank God I was not around to pick up”?
Never will I go that route!
I do not know how I survived but I have managed to utter the words “thank you”.
So next time you go around stabbing walking corpses, making your privates public, know that the penalty is greater than the 40 seconds. And because there are so many with the disease walking in all shades of beauty but and will not mind asking for a condom, I am very scared.
I have not learned my lesson yet but at least I am going to be careful for once, be picky with who I help and probably change for the better.
How I wish.
I know I am hard to understand but that’s what makes me unique and not such a nice guy. I do, maybe, care for a few. So for the rest of you who don’t read, you are next.
From my soft and caring side – break the chain and start controlling your libido. Living positive is not easy. So rather be safe than sorry. I will follow suit one day. As for now, women remain the lubricant to my bitchery life. But I equally fear to die because you need people like myself to screw you… or educate you.
Otherwise, see you at the ARV collection point.