“Love shouldn’t be in the market place. it’s immensely valuable, but it has no price.” -Osho
Someone, a reader, female, sent me an email. That was a month ago or so. I read it in the evening, after diner. Everyone was home, we sank in the living room seats, buried in our phones. The TV was on but nobody was watching. I felt sorry for the TV, there’s nothing worse than being ignored.
The email read as such “Your recent writings, there’s a high tinge of sexuality, it’s on the overdose. I’ve been following you for a minute, and while your writing has a freedom to it, a raunchiness, I feel like you’ve moved a notch a higher.”
I smiled. My face glowed with a mild fire. Do you ever receive an e-mail and it makes you feel good, the way the words read, like music.
The e-mail continued.
I feel like you’re becoming a sort of high priest for sex. I paused and laughed, a small laugh. My folks stared; they thought I was laughing at a meme. This might sound inappropriate but I’ll ask, what’s your body count? My heart stopped beating. I scanned the living room suspiciously. Everybody was on their phones; nobody had shared in my shock.
I read the email again. It was a courageous e-mail.
I rarely talk about my body count. I am not intrested in other people’s count too. I don’t see it as something worth screaming about from rooftops. It doesn’t matter to me. The number of bodies you’ve encountered mean nothing in the grand scheme of life. You won’t appointed to a committee; you won’t get an award by the president. Bragging about the body count is vain and purposeless. It’s like talking about the planet Pluto.
A while back, on my birthday, I was chilling with some of my boys. We’d burnt the afternoon away, smoking and drinking. We’d traded war stories, the full equation: women, illegal drugs, football. We were the heroes in all our narratives. As the night set in, the issue of body count came up.
A guy, let’s call him Y, was well over 50, at the time he was in a ‘serious relationship’ with this girl who spoilt him silly. He’d cheated on her a few times, not because he wanted to, because girls were crazy about him, they just wanted to bang him silly. Another of my boys, we’ll call him T, was in his 30s, not age, but the ginenes he’d sampled. The other chap, D and me, were the average performers. Y and T are a bit older; they mocked us and chided us to pull up our socks.
“You guys are young still.” T hollered, “you should be ploughing through pussy.”
Ho! Ho! Ho! Not me, not in this era of disease.
As we shared our experiences, I realised one common theme. None of us put any substantial effort in pursuing girls. Chicks just drifted our way, like moths drawn to light. All we did was to show up. I’ve come to realise that this isn’t the case with most men. Chaps out here are made to jump through rings of fire to get the cookie. They will pay for dates, pay for ubers, pay for drinks, pay for saloon appointments, pay for I don’t know what. I find this to be absurd and pointless.
It’s okay to pay. It shows that you have your shit together, an ideal all men should aspire towards. But you shouldn’t pay with the target of sex afterwards. Pay to enjoy the moment of getting to know someone. Don’t pay to salve your ego. Don’t pay to impress her. Don’t pay to assert yourself as a man. It’s pointless, it never works.
One of my mantras and I always share this with guys, if she likes you enough, she will bang you with zero effort. Forget the Hollywood bullshit of dates and drinks and dinners. It’s a charade. A circus. A waste of time. It’s commercialization of human interaction. Something natural, instinctive and primal has been covered with too much propaganda.
If a woman puts you through all that, she’s screening you, trying to see if you fit the bill, most of the time you don’t. Why do I say this? I’ve been with a couple chicks, I put in zero effort. The most I did was a phone call. This has spoilt me. I’m bad at texting. I talk to girls, I meet them a week later, I’ve forgotten their names. On dates, I’m lose with my language. I cancel dates. I forget plans.
So, when I hear stories of men attempting to impress women, I’m shocked and blown away. Where do those guys come from? Are they aliens? Don’t they have something better to do with their lives?
When you lock eyes with a chick, she’s already made a decision about you. Everything that follows is drama, a façade, and we all know what the closing act looks like. We know that at the end, there will be lots of moaning and erratic breathing. So why all these musical chairs? I refuse to be part of such madness.
I recently wrote an extremely sexual story WE ARE DONE. It’s a story which evoked a lot of heat. Many chicks followed me on social media. I received screenshots of ladies asking about me. Who’s that guy? Osoch Ogun? Where is he? We need to get hold of him. Thankfully, due to Covid-19, nobody could get hold of me. Girls I haven’t talked to in ages were all in my inbox, saying how a wonderful story it was. But we do know what they were looking for, and it wasn’t a story.
A friend placed me in a WhatsApp group of readers. This is a troupe of folk who like reading, they’d enjoyed the story and thus wanted a Question-and-Answer session with the author. Some people were asking if it was fiction. I don’t do fiction on this blog. This is a journal of my life, a place I come to share my experiences. I can’t dilute my experiences with fiction.
The men in the group thought I was a hero, the true embodiment of the masculine psyche, utterly honest and poignant. I was their voice. I said what they all want to say but they don’t have the words or are afraid to say so. The ladies bashed me. They called me toxic, misogynistic. They said that I was everything a man should aspire not to be. That it was sad the men viewed me as a modern-day Moses, guiding them through the Red sea of life.
I saw through the feminine attacks, they were testing me, trying to mess up my head. They wanted to see if I really did walk the talk. Now, I’ve been a recipient of shit tests ever since I discovered women. I’ve gotten used to them. I can see a woman trying to weigh me from a mile away. As expected, the women who were calling me toxic and misogynistic, later jumped to my inbox, they wanted to see my photos, they kept sending those laughter emojis at things I said. I thought to myself, this misogynist and toxic man is getting a lot of female attention.
I forgot about the girls. I chased life. I went for my runs. I did yoga.
*
This is a story about sex, love and God. It’s not a pornographic account of a steamy escapade, but an experience of what I’ve learned about the three. If you expected moans, and stilted breathing, I am sorry.
We humans are crazy about sex. We act like we’re not but deep down, it’s the most driving urge of mankind. It’s the reason men work hard. Its why women apply make-up, lip stick, wear suggestive clothes. They will say that they want to feel good, in essence they want you drooling after them.
In south America there’s a tribe where 70% of the men never reach age forty. They kill each other. Why is this? it’s the women. The bastards are fighting for mating rights. It happens in our contemporary society but in other forms. Power, money, attractiveness. We men don’t kill each other to get women but we form little niches and the guy on top of the said pyramid gets all the women. Is this bad? I don’t think so, it’s just natural selection at work.
And while someone will say that we’re sexual beings, we shouldn’t be chewing each other like horny rabbits. If all we think of is sex, sex and more sex, we are not any different from animals. Animals only want to eat, sleep and mate. If we humans live the same way, what’s the purpose of our higher consciousness? Why should we lord anything over nature if we’re just like horny donkeys?
If we can’t transcend that primal sexual urge, then our evolution is stuck. We can’t rise to be better humans. Because lower animals are driven by sex and if we’re also driven by sex, we’re just like them. And while we have sexual needs, they don’t have to be guiding themes of our lives.
Does this mean we should repress our sexuality? No. Repressed sexuality is the cause of all this neurosis in society. Parents teach children that sex is wrong. Teachers tell students to avoid sex. Religious liars and preaching conmen tell congregations that sex is the doorway to hell. These are the same people who rape little children.
Sex should be expressed freely, then it will be transcended.
I read somewhere that over 90% of mental health issues are caused by repressed sexuality. In this day and age, most people talk freely about sex, but in real sense, they’re yet to experience the essence of it, the beauty of it. They’re lost in lousy, boring, and casual encounters.
If you’re not having orgasmic sex, you’re wasting your time, you will never reach the goal of being free from sex. Constantly, you will be pursuing that temporary high, and when you come crashing down, you go chasing after that high again. But if even for one moment you manage to reach the highest peak of sex, you’ll be freed, it will be the mother of all highs. It will sweep you whole, it will be your freedom.
Sex is the doorway to heaven, through sex, pure and true, we’re able to experience God. In that moment of release, when time stops, we become one with God. But now when we pursue that in every waking moment of our lives, we just drain ourselves dry, we try to reach God but we can’t, the life force has been depleted.
When you have sex, the goal should be to be lost in the experience wholly, to live in it, to explode in it, to enjoy it, to find peace in it, to transcend it. Because only after you’ve lived through sex and gone past its whims, can love grow in you, and only then can you experience God. Before, you’re just a man in darkness, clamouring for something to hold on to.
A while back, I was in bed with this chick. We’d seen each other before, on and off. One afternoon, she called, homegirl wished to see me. Later, she was at my place. We proceeded to bang each other. It was the most boring sexual encounter I’ve ever had. The love making was a chore. There was no life in it. Our bodies were saying no. I wasn’t feeling her. I wasn’t exploding in her.
That was the turning point. The chick, we drifted away. We ghosted each other. There were no cries, no texts of I wish you well, I hope you find happiness in your next relationship. There hadn’t been a relationship. We were two confused individuals, trying to fill a hole in ourselves with sex. We were on different journeys, different roads. We’d had fun moments in the past, but everything has an end. In hindsight, it was a beautiful conclusion, it opened my eyes to the shallow life I was leading, devoid of love. My lust and desire had hit a brick wall.
That episode was a slap on the face. A reminder. A caution. A warning of the hedonistic live I was living. The lesson was simple, pleasure wasn’t going to get me anywhere. It was an astounding realisation. Everything changed. How I viewed the world, sex, love, relationships. I was unmade, reborn.
RELATIONSHIPS ARE SELFISH
I have never been in a serious relationship. It’s not something a desire. I am a free soul, a wanderer. I don’t like being confined to someone or anything. I find relationships to be selfish. Why would you want to own someone forever? In the flings I’ve had, girls act like they don’t care too, but at some point, they start getting attached. Whenever I see those morning texts or being asked how my day was, I’m out of the window. I can’t bear the thought of being tied to one person for the rest of my life, it gives me nightmares.
Talking to my male acquittances, they’re only in relationships because they’re afraid of the legendary dry spell. I find this to be a weak. Kwani how few women do you attract? Do you see the call and power of sex? Its mind blowing that people can be held hostage by something they can control.
Because this relentless pursuit of sex, love can’t grow in us and we can’t experience God.
What is love? This is the meeting point of two spiritual energies. When they fully unite without physical attachment, without material boundaries. As long as men will be judged by ‘kutuma fare’ or the model of cars they drive, there’s no possibility of love developing in our society. I find that ‘kutuma fare’ thing to be ugly and a smokescreen, it’s no different from prostitution.
And as long as men keep judging women by the curve of their waists, the size of their boobs, the fire of love will remain forever extinguished. This doesn’t mean that you settle for someone you’re not attracted to, hell no! Find something more in that person than the exterior. The exterior is treacherous, it’s wonderful for a moment, but it’s a dark road in the long run. I’ve been on that road. To quote Osho, “I was asleep, now I am awake.”
Only when we transcend sex, can love grow in us. And when we know to love, then we can seat with God.
Men & Women: the biology of attraction
In light of the above rant about kutuma fare and the size of ass, we shouldn’t forget that we are animals. Both of us, men and women we want better mates, it’s evolution at work, it’s natural selection.
I understand why a woman would be interested in the guy driving a Range Rover. She’s not after the Range Rover. She’s after that guy’s social position. Because if she manages to tame that guy, she will be provided for, she will be cared for, her offspring will have a better shot at survival.
It’s the for the same reason why men want the hottest chick, the chick with bomb ass hips and boobs. That chick signifies health. That she will give birth to vivacious offspring. So, men aren’t pursing beauty, they just want to bring a better offspring. And women aren’t pursuing the Range Rover, they just want to survive.
This is why women paint themselves with make-up, they wish to portray themselves as the hottest, because only then, do they know they will attract the man on top of the pyramid. And it’s for the similar reason why men want to be viewed as providers, because only then will they attract the hottest woman they can.
Deep down, it’s a game. And you reading, do play the game.
Civilisation is a long way off. We’re still animals, driven by primal and promethean instincts.
I wrote this article in late 2020. A lot has changed since then, but my views remain the same.
I’ve published a book. My debut anthology, A STRANGER; symbols of transformation. Is available for order. For an adjusted price of KES 750, you get to be a part of the movement. Till 5843415.
