Why I Locked Them All Down

Back in the Saddle

Photograph by Daniel Dolpire

I think I made a huge mistake.


I jumped the gun when I locked down Boy Toy. Oxy is a helluva drug.


I wasn't wrong in locking him down. My mistake was thinking I'd want to lock him and only him down.

Raising My Hopes With Bob's Anuses

I caught up on TV shows Thursday and Friday night with one of my Hulu marathons. Two shows stood out to me this week - Bob's Burgers and Raising Hope.


The episode opens as Bob and his children are on an art crawl. I went on a gallery crawl on Thursday in Chelsea. I can't say the art I saw was "really, really bad". I gained some inspiration from the PAT: Unseen, unheard, unexplained exhibit at the Thomas Erben Gallery. I ended up at Chelsea Market afterwards and gazed at self-portraits by Kerry Skarbakka. The following day, I learned of the Nue York exhibit opening next month and was invited to the Freedom to Create show at the Ana Tzarev Gallery (If you've never been to that gallery, I encourage you to visit. It's a beautiful space). I need to make my next solo photo exhibit a reality. It's time.


On Bob's Burgers "Art Crawl", Bob's sister-in-law, Aunt Gail (that didn't go unnoticed), hangs a series of paintings of animal anuses in his restaurant. The family and patrons were offended by the art but couldn't tell her. Too much for a dining establishment? Or just too much?

Aint No Fun If Your Girls Can't Have None

When will I learn that no matter how hard I don’t look for attention or try to just blend in, it never happens? That someone is bound to say something to me to make me think?

I was at a fish fry last night. The first people I saw were two women and a man, the women sitting on either side of him. He had the boisterous energy I’ve come to know from Nigerians. I didn’t take a seat near them until I had been there for about 15 minutes. I was in people-watching mode while I sipped my drink, and not even trying to hide the fact that I was listening in on conversations.

I had sat quietly near the 3-person couple. Maybe I was too quiet. The woman closest to me said “hello”. Then the man cut right to the chase, “Are you from Africa?” he asked. I said my father was. I knew where he was from based on his accent. I could’ve gone through the speech I’ve given my entire life about where I’m “from”, where I was born, where my parents are from, what culture/country I identify with, but this time I waited to see where this was going.

He asked if my father was from Ghana. I said Nigeria. The woman on his far left teased him for now knowing his own people. He was very pleased to hear I was from Nigeria and said he assumed I was African or Jamaican.

“Both,” I said.

Now he was really impressed. I may have actually seen his dick get hard. The left-side woman called it a potent mix. He said I was the baddest of Africa and the baddest of the Caribbean. That meant I must be a bad girl. Yeah, he meant that sexually. I was promptly schooled that in Africa men can have more than one wife and then he referred to himself in the third person when he said he wanted to marry a Jamaican woman, that he was looking for a third wife. Someone fiery to stir things up since the other two wives (apparently the ones sitting with him, even though the one next to me denied it) got along well. He wanted a wife who would fight for him because she didn’t want to share him. I had all sorts of smart remarks to make but I think my raised eyebrow and lips pushed to the side said enough.

I have nothing against polygyny. On the surface, the three of them seemed happy and it’s a practice that’s been going on for centuries. But let me explain--if you’re a married man or in a relationship and your partner doesn’t know that you have other women that’s not polygyny. What I do have an issue with is the whole “man-sharing” or “man-stealing”, both of which involve blatant deceit.