Dodu Nims

The world as seen by Nimo!

Childhood scars.

Have you ever sat down with a friend having a normal cliché conversation of how your if is totally awesome? Then boom they drop a bombshell on you?

For a second, I was dumb folded, I did not know whether to crack up in laughter or cry or ask if they were okay. I was disoriented.

¨Yes, I was a sex addict for the better part of my life, ¨ he added as though to clarify it or let the words completely sink in my medulla oblongata.

First of all, I thought these things only happened in movies, at what point did my friend sit down and decide to baptize himself a sexual addict, I wondered.

¨ At the point in my life where I would travel to different counties in one day, just to go look for sex. I would cruise through, Nakuru, Nairobi, then end up sleeping in Nanyuki, I was obsessed and at the same time thrilled, ¨ he answered as he stared right into my wide-open eyes.

Unfortunately, as the back of your mind predicted, this story did not start with roses and beautiful plain fields. It started with a mother, who had to make ends meet for her children, between burning the midnight oil and getting up before sunrise, she need help. And so, a house help was found, to be a helping hand you presume.

The vivid memory he had of the help was her trying to force him into her, she taught him how to use petroleum jelly as lube, he was only six, his miniature growing brain cells could not comprehend what was going on. All he remembers was, he felt hair and the hair pricked him. She did this several times and when she left someone else did this to him, a neighbor, someone his mother trusted to take care of him. Funny how the phrase niangalilie mtoto can turn into you´ve scared my child for life in just an hour.

Life went on after that, he did not share, maybe because he was scared of the consequences but more so because he had no father figure around, so as a child, he learned to be strong and push back those emotions. Then it happened again, this time he was sixteen, she was twenty-six, he was vulnerable, alone, homeless and that is when she struck.

“It was a nice afternoon, I was still in high school, crashing at my friend’s place. He left me with his friend. As soon as he stepped out of the door, she put on some porn. I was shocked! I had never watched porn before. She seduced me, I fell for it, I did not even enjoy it, and that technically how I lost my virginity, short not sweet and definitely no consent. ”

After high school, everything started spiraling, sleeping with many different consecutive women at a go even some people’s wives….

Picture this, it is a Friday afternoon, people are buzzing into a restaurant, he’s on a shift. It’s a very busy afternoon, but he still needs a toilet break, so he takes one, just to have a quick masturbation session. This was part and parcel of his life; he visits someone and she goes to make him tea in the kitchen and he has to do it. He goes to the bathroom; he has to do it. He loved himself probably way too much. If there was no lube, then there was water, if there was no water then there was saliva. He was falling into a deep pit of sexual addiction.
He got to love masturbation, more than he loved sex with the uncountable women, he conquered.

This one time, he had sex with someone’s pregnant wife, he got up, looked at himself in the mirror and felt no guilt. There’s a saying that says the heart grows fonder, and these things no longer felt bad because he had already dominated his conscious to the dark side.

He got into a few relationships in this time period, but he constantly cheated, he could have sex with two different women in one night. No protection. I ask him how he didn’t get HIV or STDs from all these escapades. He shrugs and says only God knows. Once his girlfriend got a yeast infection and he acted dam, he had gotten it from the other woman, he tried to change, but the women kept coming, so he kept going.
He became a tourist, he went to Kisumu, Embu, Nyeri, Meru, you mention it, he went there for sex, he should probably have been a travel blogger. One day after he was done with his did, he looked at himself in the mirror and this time he felt something, maybe guilt, maybe God, maybe pain or maybe salvation. His fiancé had left him for another man. Was this his punishment for being a man-whore? He wondered.

That night he snuck out of his conquests’ house, went back home and broke down, for weeks he cried and wallowed in his pain. He shut off his phone so the women would stop calling and he decided he was done. During his disengagement with the world, he woke up one Sunday and decided that church would be his saving grace. He went to church, started being a regular attendee and one year down the line he is celibate. No masturbation, no sex, no women {just kidding}, his church his workplace everywhere he goes, there are pretty women but he vowed to stay grounded, focus on other things with his free time like drawing, singing and attending other people’s weddings.

It took him over eight years in his addiction and he is only one year in recovery, but he’s grateful that he has grown to be a better man. A man who works with his head and heart first before his sexual desires.

Have a lovely weekend!

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