Notes on Being Footloose and Commitment Free: Don't talk a big game

For those of you who are new, Ogilvy is my dearest friend from school. He is so dear to me that I would gladly throw out the word friend and call him brother. It would take aeons to list his merits but only a second to list his one demerit. Ogilvy is ridiculously unlucky in love. He often writes to me in times of need, seeking my counsel on the matters of his heart.

He first wrote to me in two summers ago complaining about a summer fling that was more summer than fling. That is to say that no flinging of any sort occurred during his summer.

He wrote me again last summer and asked for my tuition on the preparation of dodo (fried plantain) for the champion of his heart at the time.

Then he emailed me in Winter and asked me to help him revive the waning affections of Coks, the Rosalie of my primary school years after he took her to see Brave. Yes, Brave, the pixar animated movie about a 16 year old girl.

And he emailed me in February, telling me of his dealings with unrequited love.


Dear Ogilvy,

Hello. Hello. I know you said I shouldn't talk to you for a while, but there's a problem, I don't really know how long a while is. As a result of this, I've waited 8 months before I speaking to you again, lest I speak to you too soon. How the devil are you? I've missed you. It's a little gay of me, but it's true, I have. Fill me in on all that's happened since February or break up with me. I can't pine for a buddy who isn't there. Although it would be a shame if it was a ho that ended our time as bros.

Talk to me,


Ah Broseph! Thanks for getting in touch. It's been forever! I'm sorry I haven't been in touch. I really wanted to tell you how I was getting on, but my pride wouldn't let me. You had to be the one to come begging with your tail between your legs. You had to be at my mercy. I imagined that it would be a welcome change as you've always held the power in our relationship. I'm always the one coming to you for advice. It's never been the other way around.

Anyway, now that all that unpleasantness is behind us, I've got lots to tell.

Thanks for being the better man,



Then tell me about it. You know I live vicariously through you. It's a little sad, but it is what it is. We can't all be knightly romantic heroes, saving damsels from imagined distress and what not. I think I might be ready for the monastic life. I can't say why, but my heart doesn't beat like that anymore. Maybe your tales of enthusiastic failure will reawaken the dead pools of affection that lurk within?

Keen bean,



I'm sorry but I can't help you there. After I got slapped with that restraining order, I decided that a change in attitudes was in order. I came to the conclusion that being Ogilvy the lover was altogether unsuitable for my emotional and mental well being. I thought to try my hand at being Ogilvy the bad boy, the man whore, the slut.

By the way slut's a very nice word. There's something about the way it rolls off the tongue that's so exotic, and decadent. Let it roll off your tongue... S-L-U-T. It's infinitely better than all it's synonyms! I do not think I would mind if my christian name were Slut. I'm tired of being Ogilvy.

Slutty Gil.


Slutty Gil,

Slut... I quite agree. It's a terrific word. There's something so irresistibly filthy about it. The question is, is it a better word than whore? There's something exceptionally special about whore. I just can't put my finger on it.

So how's being sexually loose and commitment free?

Judgy Fam.


Judgy Fam,

I can't put my finger on it makes a pathetic argument. You're better than that. It's going surprisingly well actually. It's going so well that I can't quite believe my good fortune. It's no news that my foray into the world of women, has left me friendzoned, jilted and ignored more times than I care to mention, but all that changed when I made it clear that I was only interested in one thing.

Take today for instance. I had been on a sexual cleanse for about a month, and I decided that today was the day that I would end it. I made the necessary calls and invited her round at noon. I had a six hour window, and I wasn't going to waste it. I had such grand plans for our time together. But like most things looked forward to, I was sorely disappointed.

After telling me how ready she was to get the D, take the D, receive the D and be dominated by the D, when the time came to do all of those things, she was wailing like a banshee, complaining that she was too tight. What the hell did she mean by too tight? After giving me a whole notebook's worth of digital foreplay, she had the balls to complain? I didn't indulge her. I was on a mission. I said to her, "If you can't take it, then you should probably leave. Don't talk a big game if you can't deliver." She sulked all the way to her car, but I didn't care. I was already organising the next one. She came over thirty minutes after the one before her left. I didn't have time for semantics. I was so keen to break my fast that I may have neglected to warm her up properly if you know what I mean. When it was time for the thrusting, she was too dry so I sent her home too.

One of the things that a man must learn, is when to give up. I'll have to get rid of my blue balls before they become unbearable. I think today was an omen. I think I need to return to my monogamous ways, or my aspiring monogamous ways. God knows I never actually made it that far. Maybe things will be different this time.


Depressed Gil,

I'm in halves about this. On the one hand I want to congratulate you on being so pimping. On the other, I want to clout you for being so damn callous. You shouldn't treat your women so poorly.

But I'm sure they're still calling you, trying to organise another session. I think you should keep your balls blue. They'll serve as some sort of self flagellation. I think that'll be penance enough. You need to give up these crazy ass bitches (C.A.Bs). And don't go defending them. Any girl that still talks to you after you did what you did is bonkers.

Stunned Afam

Stunned Afam,

You have the right of it, but you have forgotten that I am nothing if not a Crazy Ass White Person (CAWP). Their crazy can't possibly surpass mine. All I have to do is go off my meds. But I'll keep those cards close to my chest. I will settle down soon I think. With any luck I won't lose my appeal the moment I clean up my act.



I don't think you will. You seem different. As long as you remember that you have value, you'll be fine. Remember that a man that who does nothing but seek out another for whatever reason, makes it clear that he has nothing to offer. After all, if he did, he would at the very least be fending off demands for that quality. Always leave them wanting more. Too much of you kills your chances every time.



Anonymous said...

Dear Gill, I feel for the second lady you sent home cruelli. And Afam. Its nice to see you have common decency even if chilvary is dead to you. Nice write up Fam, I love the style and the flow

Damisiwaju said...

Lmao! Just fell in love with your blog.

Reni J said...

Gil's back! I missed him too, although I'm not sure about his new stance in this life!

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