The topic that day was why women are choosing t0ys over men. It’s a crazy WhatsApp group. You only blink, and you have hundreds of messages waiting for you. I hardly commented there, but I loved the fun and energy. I told myself it was my way of releasing stress.

The debate went on and on. The guys were defending their position, while the ladies were giving it to them left and right, calling them “two-minute men.” I wrote, “You ladies settle for the wrong guys and later call all men failures. Have you tried some of us? Try me, and you’ll never go back to that stick again.”

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A few seconds later, a lady responded, “Guys like you are all talk and no show. You give them a chance, and you realize they have shameful sizes and last only a few seconds. But when they’re out, all they do is talk.”

All the guys came to my support, adding their voices about how dangerous sticks are and how inhumane they are, no matter how you use them. I was shouting, “Come and try me, and see. I swear you’ll never be the same again. You might call for a rescue team that day.”

I’ve had relationships. I haven’t heard any of them call me a “two-minute man.” I do my best to save the face of the brotherhood. I won’t say I go all day, but my performance usually gets the job done.

I stopped arguing on the page, but the ladies kept talking, asking me to add my girlfriend to the group to attest to my prowess. I answered, “I don’t have a girlfriend at the moment. I would have done that.” The lady responded, “How would you have one when you can’t last a mile?”

I decided to get to know this girl. Her name was Amanda. I texted her that very night and said, “Talking a lot doesn’t solve the issue. Come and experience the real show.”

She was twenty-five and a stunner. I looked at her profile picture and nodded in agreement with the universe that she was indeed pretty. She responded, “I won’t waste my time on you because I’ve seen your type. Let me enjoy my t0y in peace.”

We were both curious to meet each other, so one day we met. She didn’t disappoint with her looks. She saw me and said, “Look at his face, as if he’s not the guy saying all those crazy things.”

We had a great meeting, talking and sharing stories. I asked her out, and she said no. I said, “You still don’t believe I can make you forget about that t0y?” She laughed and responded, “It was all a joke. I’ve never owned one, though I’m curious.”

Several weeks later, I got her to agree to come to my place. I paid for an Uber and ordered food and drinks to make her visit memorable. I had the impression that anything could happen, so I prepared for it. I drank things and sprayed things. I got my protection ready, waiting for the right time to strike.

We got to that part later in the evening. I swear I’m very good at this, but I don’t know what happened that night. Just a few minutes later, I dropped the load. She was looking up at me. I was looking sideways at things that didn’t exist. She burst out laughing. I said, “No, wait, this is just the first hit and I missed. Let’s wait for the second.”

We waited and waited in vain. I couldn’t get myself up to try again. She dressed up, took the last bottle of drink, and dropped it into her bag. She said, “Thanks for everything. You don’t have to feel bad. It happens to the best of you sometimes.”

She walked out the door with a broad, mischievous grin on her face. When she got home, she texted me. I asked her, “So, are you going to tell your friends what happened?” She answered, “Efua already knows about it, but I don’t know if I’ll tell the others.”

Efua is the admin of that crazy WhatsApp group.

I exited the group at dawn. I woke up to see I’d been added again. Amanda posted, “Where do you think you’re going? We die here.” Efua sent about fifteen laughing emojis and later said, “We shall know them by their style of exiting the group.”

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I still exited and blocked them from adding me. Amanda and I are still friends. I was hoping to build something with her, but anytime I mention it, she asks me, “Build what with what?” I saved the little grace I had and decided not to mention it again. To this day, she meets me and still smiles that mischievous smile. If only she would give me another chance… but I had only one chance to make an impression, and I failed successfully.

—Fabulous 

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