The guy was typical among guys who (whom?) I met for sex: he can't manage to give detailed and logical directions to his place. It annoys me when people describe directions as if the recipient intuitively knows which direction to pick when faced by an unfamiliar intersection.
He lives in a neighborhood called Teacher's Compound. I always thought it was meant to be a housing project for public school teachers since it's located behind two public schools and a university. What it is, though, is a maze of narrow alleys sloping up and down a hill.
Some of those alleys were in fact part of some families' properties, such as small gaps separating the main house from the outdoor kitchen or what's left of the place where someone parks his motorcycle in front of his front door. On my way out, I had to ask for directions at least twice, but encountered more of those people who believe that a shrug of the shoulders vaguely towards some street behind them is all the directions anyone ever needed.
I did manage to get out of that maze, eventually, after a series of guesses, hoping that the alley I took will not turn out to be a dead-end. I got out of the area into a street that was different from the place where I entered.
The quickie itself (another surprise threesome) was unremarkable and isn't worth more than one sentence.
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