Old Write Exercise: About Sefa

The first time I spoke to Sef, he said he was British but he didn’t have a British accent.  It was much like Abani’s British and something else.  Sef was from Ghana and he contacted me through a myspace search engine.  I’m still not sure why he began talking to me.  I don’t want to ask either.  My second reading week for London was slow so I called him and we spoke.  He was a third year business major at Nottingham and his parents paid for school so he didn’t work.  He was addicted to Chinese food.  His ex-girlfriend was Chinese.  Her name was Estella.  She left him for someone else.  The conversation revolved around her, even though he said he wanted to meet me.  I was bored.  I needed adventure, so I said yes.

I’m one of those people who needs busy work, because when I get bored I do stuff like what I’m about to tell you.  Anyway, we agreed to meet at Waterloo.  I had trouble spotting him, because I wasn’t too sure what he looked like.  We picked up our mobiles and I found him by the sound of his voice.  Still that same British-Ghanaian accent.  He was tall and slim, with skin the color of dark milk chocolate.  I was nervous, so I was glad that he did most of the talking.  He told me a bit about Ghana.  He was the youngest of three or four siblings.  His parents were wealthy.  Sef didn’t see an elephant, until he went to a zoo in Washington, and he hated telling people he was African because they assumed he ran with the elephants.  I never made the observation.  I tried to imagine myself on some exploration of eroticism with him.  I didn’t like him very much, but I figured it would make a great tale for Anita and Emma when they returned from Sicily.  But I didn’t tell him that.  I didn’t want to look like a slut or anything.  I touched his hand.  He winced.  I’d try again later.

London wasn’t his town he told me.  He didn’t spend much time there, but that was how he met his ex.  We were at Rendezvous in Leicester Square.  She passed him in the street.  They met again at Nottingham and flirted like butterflies around the idea of hooking up.  She was involved with someone else.  He stopped eating his Belgian waffle and almost said her name, which I found lovely and called her The Past.  The Past kept in contact with this guy while they were living together.  The Past had non sexual affairs in London hostels with him.  Sef checked her e-mail and called her parents to confirm his fears.  Then his cross-dressing became more frequent.  His favorite color was pink, and he hated admitting that.  He told me that over our phone conversation and I wore pink especially for him.  Anyway, he met a guy on myspace who was gay.  They met for drinks when The Past still endured her intimately wrong affair.  He slept with this guy, but it wasn’t an affair he said.  He wasn’t gay.  He didn’t come.  He wasn’t even a cross dresser.  He just liked dressing in girl’s clothes.  And he hated drag shows.  They were demeaning, but lesbians were great.  Such a typical male.  That’s what ended their relationship.  He assures me that The Past is missing out, even though she is back home in China.

We left Rendevous and I hoped we could leave The Past but she followed us everywhere.  A rose lady walked past us.  I got The Past a rose at this club, he said.  We sat on a bench and a placed my leg over his.  He pulled out a condom and sighed.  These things are like kryptonite, he said.  We watched a movie; I think it was Bullet Boy.  I slipped my arms over him.  He said I had soft skin.  The Past didn’t.  Sef took me to a Chinese restaurant where he ordered way too many courses.  He took my hand at the table.  I sighed.  I really like you, he said.  You’re like a sponge, so absorbent, he said.  He felt so comfortable with me.  While we were waiting on desert, he told me about his masturbation habits.  He’d wait for several days and do it five times.  It helped to release some pressure.  I tried one more time and caressed his arm.  I went to far listening to him to not do this.  He was upset with his roommate last summer and he jacked off on her favorite dress before she went back to France.  He felt a relief, after so many months of being without The Past.  He felt close to a woman for once, he said.

I looked down at my ice cream and sighed.  At least I got a free meal.