To hell with university and its fake sexual marriages

So you scream at whoever cared to mind ‘ I am at university’ doing everything i ever wanted to ever do.
Just because i have a room all to my self that screams single and a door tag reading ‘fuck-sanctuary’ am not impressed actually am disgusted by what i seen. Marriage is a cave, a dark abyss coated by lines of i do, forever ohh please God save us.

you know what i want

I seen so many of my colleagues drown in the desire and what to have sex with pleasure. Line up from the moment we are admitted at a local university hoping for a single room. Those unlucky to be on scholarship push parents till the wish for a room are awarded. These rooms are our killing zones and am not talking about murder she wrote its murder of that zone on the female where the sun dont shine. Its a ritual we boys sign up to the moment we learn next year we shall be at university. See girls ths moment the hips protrude and the boobs pop out everything on them is ready while we boys you have to stand at 90 degrees to prove your mum didnt waste her night.

In the room its not personal space to read or have a time to meditate nope rooms are designed to woo the other sex. For those who can afford like me, lcd screens lind the walls and hugd speakers sit where ventilators be on s poor students room.

At campus i seen some of my other unlucky friends leave better conditioned rooms for ghetto standard rooms at the nearest town centre. Under the umbrella ‘privacy rule’ boys cram themselves in dingly lit room with no water or electricity nor toilet services.

ten ….what commandments

In these rooms however are daughters of Eve gladly ready to part legs to satisfy their sexually hungry partners. To be seen being in a relationship with so and so. Wage verbal wars on others who try to cross the path with their advances.

I remember one scenerio when a girl i was dating Marion and she heard j was importing girls to ‘our place’ dont ask me how she happened to own part of my room. So she crept on us doing the dirty and the drama that ensued was front page tabloid material. See it was close to 7pm on a wet Sunday evening and i had planned if this was to happen it better be early enough not to arouse suspicion because at campus people dont know how to keep their noses on their ugly face. We were in the room, started touching her breasts and i dont have to stress the rest then i had the knock. Am not talking about a wild pose doing the dirty……nope or moaning it was a knock on the door. The type that soldiers in Iddi Amins era used to bang on the door or the loud one the landlord bangs on the door over delayed rent fees. Initially played clean pretending i was deep asleep and took my time. The bang grew louder by the minute meanwhile on the inside we played cat and mouse with time and space until the small room window became large enough to fit her busty waist. On the reaching inside she sniffed the whole place like a blood hound looking for blood but got none.

See the funny thing about this scenario is that for starters she not my wife but just because i threw the magic words at her she feels like i owe her marriage which for starters i wasnt and will never be. If i used condoms on you thats full proof am not wrapping you around me……never and if she didnt allow us to break up before why she all up in my business throwing tantrums.

©nare

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