•Tuesday, October 31, 2006
Some things are not just worth the trouble. Sasha is one of them. She has gone to the bottom of my list. Rock bottom. And it’s a crying shame really because I thought she had more sense. She is a reckless chic, and I don’t do reckless chics. Reckless chics can send you to an early grave, and I believe I’m too young to check out just yet. I still have childhood dreams to fulfill, I still have a mission to change the world and Sasha is not going to be my waterloo. No ma’am, I refuse.
Maybe, I should tell you what went down. I invited her for dinner as per the plan. We had a light drink in town then went home about 7 pm. She was perky and bubbly the whole evening, we chatted incessantly as I fixed a decent meal of noodles, vegetable pickles and some chicken. Two huge strawberry candles crackled at the opposite ends of my darkened living room as my Buddha Bar CD played; great aphrodisiac. The mood was set, the dice was rolling.
We had dinner. Drank the bottle of chilled white wine and pretended that we didn’t want to tear off each other’s clothes. She had complained that her high heels were killing her feet, so I took the pleasure of heating some water, having her soak her feet in the warm Dettol spiked water and later massaging them with some massage oil. She had beautiful slender feet bereft of cones. She sat sprawled back into the settee, eyes half closed, occasionally sipping her wine and thoroughly enjoying the massage. Then I started kissing her feet now that I was certain of their hygienic condition.
She writhed in her seat and deceitfully asked me to stop. Out of mischief I stopped, and she opened her eyes and worriedly asked me why I had stopped. Makes you wonder why sometime they ask you to stop when they mean otherwise.
Anyway, everything was going according to script. We started kissing, she is a hungry kisser, I’m more of a “cautious” kisser, but we soon found our comfort zone. Soon our clothes were hanging all over the place, and making a neat trail to my bedroom; a textile trail of passion.
Then something funny happened. When I reached for a contraceptive, she reached out and held my wrist. “Uhm, it’s okay. I’m safe,” she said.
I was taken aback, but I took it all in my stride. “I.m sure you are sweetie,” I said and continued to peel off the pack with unsteady hands.
“look, can I tell you something?” she asked. I stared at her, a tad peeved at the interruption.
“I hate those, I mean, I’m allergic to rubber. It makes me have rashes,” she said apologetically.
That statement took away 70 per cent of my psyche and seriously put a damper on my libido.
Maybe, I should tell you what went down. I invited her for dinner as per the plan. We had a light drink in town then went home about 7 pm. She was perky and bubbly the whole evening, we chatted incessantly as I fixed a decent meal of noodles, vegetable pickles and some chicken. Two huge strawberry candles crackled at the opposite ends of my darkened living room as my Buddha Bar CD played; great aphrodisiac. The mood was set, the dice was rolling.
We had dinner. Drank the bottle of chilled white wine and pretended that we didn’t want to tear off each other’s clothes. She had complained that her high heels were killing her feet, so I took the pleasure of heating some water, having her soak her feet in the warm Dettol spiked water and later massaging them with some massage oil. She had beautiful slender feet bereft of cones. She sat sprawled back into the settee, eyes half closed, occasionally sipping her wine and thoroughly enjoying the massage. Then I started kissing her feet now that I was certain of their hygienic condition.
She writhed in her seat and deceitfully asked me to stop. Out of mischief I stopped, and she opened her eyes and worriedly asked me why I had stopped. Makes you wonder why sometime they ask you to stop when they mean otherwise.
Anyway, everything was going according to script. We started kissing, she is a hungry kisser, I’m more of a “cautious” kisser, but we soon found our comfort zone. Soon our clothes were hanging all over the place, and making a neat trail to my bedroom; a textile trail of passion.
Then something funny happened. When I reached for a contraceptive, she reached out and held my wrist. “Uhm, it’s okay. I’m safe,” she said.
I was taken aback, but I took it all in my stride. “I.m sure you are sweetie,” I said and continued to peel off the pack with unsteady hands.
“look, can I tell you something?” she asked. I stared at her, a tad peeved at the interruption.
“I hate those, I mean, I’m allergic to rubber. It makes me have rashes,” she said apologetically.
That statement took away 70 per cent of my psyche and seriously put a damper on my libido.
“Huh?” I managed to blurt.
“Yeah I get rashes when I use condoms,” she repeated like I hadn’t heard for the first time.
“So what happens?” I asked puzzled.
“I’m safe”
“When you say safe you mean from what?”
She hesitated for a moment. “I mean, I can’t get pregnant.”
There is something illiterate about a 25 year-old lady who has had some decent level of education saying that. It sounds something between naive and stupid. But generally it resonates with blatant carelessness. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. There I was buck naked, hovering over a beautiful and very much breathless and naked woman holding a torn condom in my hands and having a senseless Q&A session about allergy. I slowly sat on the bed. At that moment, I was trying to wrap my head around the concept of this girl worrying more of getting pregnant than of some STD.
“Look, I know you hardly know me that well, but you can trust me,” she said.
“Yeah I get rashes when I use condoms,” she repeated like I hadn’t heard for the first time.
“So what happens?” I asked puzzled.
“I’m safe”
“When you say safe you mean from what?”
She hesitated for a moment. “I mean, I can’t get pregnant.”
There is something illiterate about a 25 year-old lady who has had some decent level of education saying that. It sounds something between naive and stupid. But generally it resonates with blatant carelessness. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. There I was buck naked, hovering over a beautiful and very much breathless and naked woman holding a torn condom in my hands and having a senseless Q&A session about allergy. I slowly sat on the bed. At that moment, I was trying to wrap my head around the concept of this girl worrying more of getting pregnant than of some STD.
“Look, I know you hardly know me that well, but you can trust me,” she said.
“I know, and I do. But do you trust me?” I rolled out the trap.
She looked at me and asked, “Should I trust you?”
“If I said you can, would you?”
“Yes, I would,” she replied without batting an eyelid.
I wasn’t going to go through with this, I decided. For two reasons, one; I was already flaccid from disbelief and two; the girl had a death wish. If she would dare have unprotected sex with a guy she hardly know, then it must be routine for her. I mean, being allergic to rubber not withstanding, she had proven to be a chic who had total disregard for safety; hers and her partner’s. I don’t happen to find that sexy in a woman.
I wasn’t going to have a discourse on trust and unprotected sex with her. So I told her that I couldn’t have unprotected sex with her and it had nothing to do with trust or allergies, it was all to do with principles which I wasn’t about to waive. She balked and said she would risk using rubber if push came to shove and that worsened the situation because then I felt that she was not being sincere, that maybe she wasn’t even allergic to rubber in the first place.
The evening quickly went up in smoke. When I said I wasn’t in the mood anymore, she didn’t take it kindly. She said she was leaving in that case. She dressed up without a word. She said she would take a matt, I thought that was ridiculous. I wasn’t about to let her walk to that stage alone, so I called Kamah, my cab driver. Not much was said while we waited for Kamah. When he finally got there, only a curt “Good night” was exchanged between us at the door of the cab. I paid Kamah and they drove off. I went back inside and polished off the rest of the wine.
Like i always say, if Halle berry and Jennifer Aniston were on their knees begging me for it, i wouldn’t touch them without a condom. It takes only one wrong act to get infected with aids. Besides, i can assure you, no woman is worth counting your ribs for. It’s not just worth it. There can never be the right way to do the wrong thing.
I can never have unprotected sex, sober or dead drunk, never have and I certainly wasn’t going to start with Sasha.
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15 comments:
Good on you!!! I was truly enjoying the Sasha saga but you are right, no woman is worth an infection with HIV.
You made the right decision.
wow. that was tough call to make.
Your ma would be proud of you (and no, I'm not jesting).
The heat of the moment is not worth the risk. I wish some boys would read this post. The ones I overheard talking about how they slip CD's off when the woman is unaware. Suffice to say, I was incensed, and gave them a right earful.
IMPRESSIVE! Man, i know that takes a whole man to accomplish, the pressure is just enuff to kill you. And you're right, a chic who says that to my mind has something she is hiding albeit being alllergic to rubber.
That sasha chic should be hung to dry. An allergic reaction is easier to deal with than an STD no?
For those allergic to rubber there are other materials out there though I dunno where you would find them in the heat of the moment;))
i hear you a tad bit too well. SOme guy claimed that he could only get it up if he didnt have to use rubber and like hell t aint happening. Good call sometimes the price is tooo high for what a few minutes of pleasure no way jose.
Great blog off to read the rest.
No rubber no sex. A few minutes of pleasure is not worth it. Good call.
I love Buddha Bar have like 4 cds! But onto more serious things.Does that mama have a death wish?! I have never in my life had unprotected sex and I am the better for it, so I dont know how that mama does it on a regular basis despite the fact women have even higher infection rates for AIDS then men!
Sheesh! Some people's stupidity never fails to amaze me!
Maybe people shouldn't be having intimate liasons with people they hardly know, that would be a good step. Am still curious why the callous attitude to such a sacred act and no, am not preaching here. If they two aforementioned individuals were in a committed marriage relationship,the issues would not come up of whether or not to use this or the other? People, lets respect the sacredness of this act and not go about joining ourselves to every third date we have.Its serious business.
Pleasure at the price of your life? Way to go for making the right choice!
craziness at best! you saved your life!
enough respect, Kenya needs more thinkers like you. (coz what you did is that you thought at a moment when thinking is a a bit too hard)
Good call me dear! First time reading your blog... loving it!
@everyone, i must admit once more i am not the author of the article. but i did enjoy a lot the sasha story as you all did. the guy is cultured and that was a tough call to make. i wish all were as strong as he is. in most instances its the lady who pushes for protection.
@curiosity, we cant bury our heads in the sand when it comes to non-marriage liaisons. truth is, they will always be and when they happen its prudent to advise such parties to use protection and take all necessary precautions. for the strong-willed, let them chill till marriage.
I respect this guy totally; he handled the situation with a lot of self-restraint. If the chic was allergic to rubber, shouldn't she be carrying the condoms that she doesn't react to? I'd never have guessed it would end like this.