by Ifeanyi Dike Jr

Editor’s Note: Today, we launch the weekly column of writer, content producer and actor, Ifeanyi Dike Jr. This blog, Monkey Business, will come to you every Sunday – and you’ll love it! Dig in.

Usually, these cyber relationships simmer down to sex and nothing more so I made a conscious effort to stay off sexual subjects for a bit. Titi, however, always found a way to drive us back there.

I had sex on the beach. I can’t say it enough and I don’t expect anyone to comprehend the joy I derive from declaring this conquest. But I take pride in it. Forget all you’ve read on Sexcapade 101 and take this as gospel – you have never had amazing sex if you’ve not had it on the beach.

Having had my fair share of cyber affairs, I made it a firm part of my New Year’s resolution to swear off any more. However, as fate and well, desperation would have it; I botched up this resolution rather quickly.

Shortly after the New Year’s, I reactivated my Facebook account for the umpteenth time after I had deactivated it. “For professional reasons,” I had told myself, when in fact I intended to sift through received messages and respond to those who posed as potential partners. Titi’s message got my attention and her profile pictures qualified her as a candidate for potential befriending. I decided to follow-up, while convincing myself that she was the last one ever.

At the time, she lived in London but would be in Nigeria in a few weeks for the holidays. We exchanged countless messages and, as common with Facebook affairs, fell deeply in love. Usually, these cyber relationships simmer down to sex and nothing more so I made a conscious effort to stay off sexual subjects for a bit. Titi, however, always found a way to drive us back there.

She had asked me everything possible, from size to pictures and positions. She was adventurous, the sort that oozed a carefree vibe and I admired her honesty. She had once said she loved me and wanted more than anything to do me. Luckily, she was returning to live in Nigeria soon and we were going to do the unthinkable, and the thinkable.

I did not think much of it, but having made it clear that something was surely going to happen on our first date, it was rather odd that we chose to meet at the beach. I took my condoms anyway.

Once we got to the beach at 7pm, we wasted no time settling in. I spread my jacket on the sand and we both laid down, counting the stars and saying meaningless things, the kind driven by strong hormonal urges but disguised as sweet nothings. All the while, all I was pondering – Are we going to do this? Are we going to do this now? Are we going to do this here? How are we going to do this? There is no way we are doing this.

After several more minutes of absent-mindedness, Titi called my attention.

“Are you slow?”

“Huh?”

“I asked, are you slow?”

She pulled me by my jaw, moved closer and kissed me so deeply she almost sucked out my breath. She did not bother with my interest or disinterest, unbuttoning my shirt with one hand and unzipping my shorts with the other while she sucked on whatever saliva was left in my mouth. I was still a bit uncomfortable about the location and it made me a little hesitant. God forbid – we get caught and become Monday’s news.

“Do you want this or not?” She asked, voice heavy with frustration.

Like a boy whose mother was threatening with an ultimatum, I responded, “I do, but here? Now? Are we not breaking some sort of rule?”

“You are indeed slow, sharp guys would have gone halfway already.”

“No, no!” (Me, desperately trying to refurbish whatever chance of a sharp-guy reputation I had left).

“Let’s do this,” I said firmly.

Even though she had taken us to a part of the beach I was sure only ‘Dora the Explorer’ could find; I could still hear voices distinctly. All the while, I kept looking out to make sure no one was coming close. I was unsure if this was a crime but I certainly was not about to go to jail for 10 minutes (or less) of hot sex.

No more fretting at the slightest sound, we don’t want Titi calling you slow again. As I was about to take my shorts off, I heard someone yell.

“Hey! Who is there?” the man’s voice had clearly been ruined by substance abuse. We did not notice him get so close. He made to reach for my belt but I manoeuvred my way out of his grip and did what any sane sharp-guy would do: I ran. I looked back at intervals and saw that he held a disoriented Titi who was between buttoning her top and explaining herself to the security guard.

I did not stop for a minute. I mean, I wasn’t going to get in trouble for something that wasn’t my idea. The man was not having her explanation; he led her to the security post, perhaps to tell the other guards what he had just seen. I imagine he began his story with ‘children of nowadays…’

I felt guilty but I could not risk stopping. Besides, I could always call Titi afterwards to meet and do this again but with caution now that we had this experience. I guess you can say that I never really had sex on the beach. And I probably never will because Titi never took my calls again.

Heartless b***h!