The contents of this post might be offensive or gross to some readers. Reader discretion is advised.


Having friends from all walks of life and hearing their stories have sometimes fascinated me or sometimes, they would leave me with an unshakeable recoil.

One such story was that of a close friend whose boyfriend raped the younger sister of her friend. She broke up with the guy just a few days before he incident, as the latter was being too manipulative and has not stopped being a pathological liar. My friend could no longer take it and broke up with him for the nth time.

After two days, he messaged her saying that he needed a place to stay. Turns out, he wanted to use my friend as an alibi for the rape he committed. Since my friend turned him down, he then contacted his other ex, who gladly took him in.

It was only two days after the incident when my friend finally knew about the crime. Being the feminist that she is, she gathered her closest friends and lawyers to look into the case since the victim and her family chose not to file a complaint. My friend wanted to take justice into her hands somehow. 

For days she felt like vomiting. Her body was trying to cleanse itself from the filth. From him. She had realized that she too, was raped. The many times that she said "No" that turned to "Yes", made her feel that the girl did say "No" but her ex didn't stop. She was awash with guilt. She had felt that it was her fault.

I had to personally tell her that it wasn't. When she called and cried at the other end of the line, I knew I had to see her. And I did. Even if it was late. Even if it was drizzling. Even if her neighborhood was teeming with weird-looking bystanders. Even if my mother was worried sick that I'm past curfew. I had to. 

I gave her a hug. She needed it. She ranted. She didn't cry though. It was over before I came. The storm had passed. I was moonshine.


Another friend spoke of her friend who once picked up a prostitute. That one night of lust bore him an itch he couldn't scratch. On the fortnight, he found out that pubic lice had infested his groin. He shaved. He placed raw meat near his shaft so the little critters wouldn't attack his genitals. The lice just multiplied.

He had to seek medical help, but, it took him almost a year to eradicate the infestation. The doctor said that the disease is just temporarily dormant for now as he now has it for life. Call it screwed. Get it? Ok, I guess I'm the only one who appreciates my morbidly, sarcastic punning. 

I am disturbed by these images. Traumatized. My graphic mind is going overdrive at 2am and I just need to write these down. I cringe and these lines from Winterson take on a new meaning for me, "Forget that you've been here before in other bedrooms in other places. Come to me new." If I have to screen potential mates like an underwriter, I would. It's not like I'm comparing stocks, no? This is someone I'll prolly wake up to every morning for the rest of my life. Someone who'd participate in cross-breeding new offspring. I have to be sure that he has a clean bill of health. I don't want complications or AIDS. I don't want my temple to be desecrated with filth. Sancto sanctorum.


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