Let me confess. I have been through a series of sexually immoral encounters lately. Nothing too depraved, but they were all iniquitous, I assure you. Immoral.
The positions varied. In one instance we even managed to pull off spider style. And the locales were also diverse. What they all had in common was this: All my lovers came from the same company.
Cleaners, consultants, clerks… etc. All from the same office.
This is not unusual among the immoral, as you will discover when you decide to become a slut yourself, but what happens is one person tells her colleague how spectacular your stroke is and word gets around.
The problem is the company has a policy on immoral sexual behaviour. They don’t condone it. Unless I am to marry and then, presumably, just to be on the safe side, turn off the lights and make sure the whole thing is over in below a minute, the company policy forbids the employees shagging me.
That is one of the reasons I have never blogged about it before. The other reason is this is not Campus Eye.
Some of you are reading this and thinking, “What a disappointing revelation! What? Bazanye? Of All People To Be Immoral? Oh no!”
To you I was a role model. I was a paragon of virtue. You looked to me as an example of perfect righteousness that knows no stain or blemish. To suddenly discover that I have had pre- and extramarital sex must appall you.
Some of you assumed that I don’t condone unethical or immoral behaviour because I am a media brand. Sorry, but the unfortunate truth is, I kind of do. I condone it as much as the next media brand does. It is only that, as much as the next media brand, I just don’t condone admitting it.
It is not my fault that I am such a filthy harlot these days. I wasn’t always. I started out chaste and pure and, if you don’t count those two incidents at Viper Room those years ago, I was also a virgin until I was ruined by the negative social influence of the media.
They started showing all these music videos about Chris Brown and Lil Wayne and the other woman who never wears enough and sings about debauchery all the time– you know her; the one who sang that song combining alcohol abuse with public intercourse, surfboard, surfboard– Beyonce!
I have been watching these videos for years, and they have been tempting me, not only by singing about how pleasant and entertaining pre- and extramarital sex is, but by also emphasising the point with music videos.
I call them music videos but we all know that they are nothing less than documentaries detailing the extent of pleasure, glamour and social prestige that can be obtained from pre- and extramarital sex.
Chris Brown. Chris Brown and Justin Bieber. Both of them are utterly despicable shitworms, absolutely worthless as human beings but thanks to singing about how glamourising pre- and extramarital sex, they are tolerated!
Even The Game. And he’s a fucking douche!
So there I was with my low self-esteem, lonely in my soul, spiritually unfulfilled, my life lacking meaning and purpose when I watched the videos and saw, not just the shaking bottom of the video ho, but the light as well.
They influenced me effectively and thoroughly to believe that what I need, what we all need, is pre- and extramarital sex!
He problem is that it is not easy to find sexual partners in Uganda. This society of ours has very strong moral fibre. Nobody around here fucks. We all know this as the truth. If you or your company exhibits any sign that you don’t absolutely abhor the practice of sex you will instantly be excommunicated from society.
So the only place I could go to find people to participate in sex with was that same station that made me a rampaging whore in the first place, the TV station that brought me all those videos.
I went. And I had fling after affair after sordid fling after tawdry affair. I fucked so much my dick got dimples.
And now what is this I hear. Now, after ruining my moral fibre they decide to announce that they don’t condone immorality?
Now you say that?