Modern cosmopolitan dating is one confusing trip to be on.

So, it’s no surprise why most people are opting to remain single, not necessarily by choice, but by a subconscious inability to put up with the socio-emotional shortcomings of cosmopolitan dating.

Recently, I’ve tried to drive through the boulevards(is that a word) of the female psyche to decipher some of the reasons why the bridge of emotional disconnect is getting wider by the minute, yet getting more and more battered by the motorists (or more aptly, lovers) who use and abuse that bridge.

When you’re dating, is it too much to ask your girlfriend not to spend the night with an ex boyfriend? Is it too much to ask your girlfriend not to lie to you about her whereabouts if as she claims, she’s up to no tricks.....at all?

Let me paint you a picture. I have been dating this girl for a while now(say..6months). We love each other, but recently that love is up for eviction. I was recently put in an awkward position by my girlfriend, Lu.

Like I said, we’ve been dating for about 6 months and are thinking of taking things a lot more seriously – now the issue we must confront is one of trust.

My girlfriend, Lu, leaves my apartment one afternoon at about 1:30 pm, informing me that she’s going to meet up with her “ex-lover” Jacob, to formally let him know that she had moved on, and was no longer interested in whatever they had in the past – to break up with him – let him down softly so to speak,

So i say “it’s okay, go for the meeting, but please be safe, and come back home on time”.
But then it’s nightfall already, about 8:30pm, Lu still hasn’t called or come home, so i call her, “hey babe, are you okay?”, and she responds, “yes I’m fine, I’m in the car with Jacob now, he’s dropping me off at jenny’s place”,

Jenny! I ponder for a bit, asking, “I thought you were gonna come home after meeting him, why the sudden need to go to jenny’s place – is she alright?”, and my girlfriend says, “she’s not feeling too fine, she called several times, so Jacob is just going to drop me off at her place, depending on how bad she’s feeling, I might spend the night at her place”,

Feeling for jenny, I say “it’s okay, but let me know how she’s feeling when you see her – give her my best regards, please”.

An hour later, i call her again, and say “hey, how’s jenny doing”, and my girlfriend says, “oh, I’m still with Jacob, we’re eating, afterwards, he’d drop me at jenny’s place”

Becoming suspicious, i say, “don’t you think it’s getting late already – I’m not comfortable with you hanging out with this dude late into the night, it’s almost 9:30pm and you’ve been with him since 1pm – anyway, just assure me you’re telling me the truth that there’s nothing amiss here”,

She gets all warm and fuzzy, “oh no, everything’s fine – he’s gonna drop me off at jenny’s place immediately after this meal, okay, you have nothing to worry about” then i retort, “so, you’re assuring me that you’re not spending the night out with this guy”, and she says, “I promise, dear, I can’t do such a thing to you”, i conclude the call by saying, “please call me as soon as you get to jenny’s place”.


But suspecting that she might give the same cliché excuse most unfaithful women use in their defense, “I wanted to call, but there was no airtime on my phone” – i transferred some airtime to her phone, just to cover all tracks. After exactly one hour – 10: 30pm now, i try to call her but she’s not picking – after a few rings, i gave up. 30 minutes later, he calls again, and she picks up, and launches into “oh, I’m sorry, I wasn’t with my phone”,

so the now suspicious boyfriend asks “where are you?”, and she responds, “I’m at jenny’s place”.

So the guy says, “oh good. How is she feeling, please give her the phone, I’d like to say ‘get-well-soon’”, and the girlfriend says, “oh,I’m downstairs, jenny is upstairs, I’ll give her the phone when I go upstairs” and the guy pauses for a minute, before he adds, “is Jacob still there with you?”, and she admits, “yes”, the guy continues, “and he’s the reason you refused to pick my call – you know what, send me jenny’s number, I’ll call her myself”.

understanding that she’s been caught in a lie, but still trying to defend her immoral honour, “jay, don’t worry, I was just in the car with Jacob, he’s leaving soon” – the boyfriend seeing the lie clearly now, “you’ve been lying all this while,just admit you’re not at jenny’s place, and that you are spending the night with Jacob, at least, I’d know you’re not calling me stupid by wanting me to believe you’re not doing exactly what both you and I know you’re doing”

The truth unfolds, and she says, “jay, I’m sorry, I’m actually at Jacob’s but I’m not gonna screw him, trust me…I need this, please”

However, conversely, is it too much to ask your boyfriend to trust you while you spend the night in your ex-boyfriend’s house? In princesses defense, as she claims, Jacob isn’t actually an ex-boyfriend, but rather a friend with whom she occasionally had sex with. But in jay’s defense, he feels this Jacob guy has been described as a randy, horny toad that gets a boner each time an attractive female’s in sight.

So, the facts are: Princess told Jay that she was going to meet Jacob for a chat. princess changed her mind along the line and decided to spend the night at Jacob’s place. princess not wanting Jay to worry tells him a lie, saying she was going to crash at her girlfriend’s place. jay discovered the charade, and princess comes clean about her intention to spend the night at jacob’s place.

Now, princess wants jay to trust her, and believe that she didn’t screw Jacob that night.

The ultimate question is: is it too much for your girlfriend to ask for this sort of trust? And what would it take a boyfriend to give her that trust?

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Finally, here's the last part of this series. i'll like to remind you that All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely UN-intentional

*********************************************************

She smiled at me as we settled into the back seats. We still had not said a word to each other. There were three of us on a row of seats that ordinarily sat four, so it was as comfortable as a bus could get. The driver started the bus and the tires started to roll, when the conductor ordered a stop to take on one more passenger.......


-cont'd

My mind went blank and time seemed to stop. I would not have been more shocked if an embalmed monkey had climbed into the bus and taken a seat next tome.

‘CY was equally shocked.

Here she was, presumably going to obtain some exotic ingredient from big market – and the object of all her ‘work’ was off on a trip with some other girl?

I tried to speak, but the words would not form. There was nothing to say: no lie or excuse; no hurriedly concocted fib with the slightest chance to save my sorry ass. I was caught, not red-handed – but pants down!

Again the events of the past few weeks flashed before my eyes. - The dinner in coca cola spot, the play at the artscan hall, the repeated visits to the Anatomy Museum, the walks in the Staff Quarters… It had been fun to finally do what I wanted with someone who shared similar passions, but I knew then that those days were gone forever.

There was a loud commotion in the bus. Somebody was asking me questions, but they had two different voices. I did not answer; my mind could not decide which voice to process.

-I was lost in thought, far away thinking back to the text message that started it all.

Something stung the left side of my face, then the right. My eyes shook violently in their sockets.

-I was now entering coca cola spot, selecting the table in the corner.

I was hit again, alternately left then right. ‘sandra started to cry.

-I was now standing, to introduce myself to ‘CY.

My face was hot. The bus had stopped. I heard the soft whoosh of a nylon bag as it swung through the air. I tasted tomatoes.

-I was now rising again, approaching the counter to ask for our food.

There was pepper in my eyes. My face felt even hotter. The conductor held tight to one struggling woman, the driver to another.

-I was now turning in slow-motion to greet ‘Ruki.

I tried hard to see, but the tears made it difficult. Somebody was grabbing me, pulling me, their arms under mine.

-I was now noticing ‘sandra, she was standing right behind ‘Ruki.

I was moving through the air one instant, laying on the ground in the next. Two more people were deposited beside me. The bus moved off. I was now feeling like a cheat, caught at my first attempt.

- And then I came back to reality.

We, all three of us, were on the ground – beside the bus-stop. There was pepper all over me. ‘Sandra was sobbing furiously while ‘CY cursed in ibo: till the very end, differences between them screaming for my notice. Some fool was taking pictures; passing students stopping to point and giggle. I had successfully made a public ridicule of myself.

I scarcely noticed when the police van pulled up at the bus-stop, parked so as to ‘shield us from public view. The last I remember is ‘Ruki running down from the van, and dragging me and ‘Sandra into the back. ‘CY refused to move, despite his entreaties – so we left her there. And then I broke down in tears…

If I ever get down to making a list of the things I am not, ‘player’ must come first. I simply sucked at it.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. I scarcely heard my room mates as they sympathised with me. I hardly heard ‘CY’s vituperation when she returned with her friends for her handbag. I had moved on. I knew I had lost her, and had accepted the fact already. I knew what I had to do next.


**********************************************************

I went back to ‘Sandra’s room that night. It took all my courage to knock at her door, to bring myself to walk into her room amidst hostile stares from her room mates.
To sit on her "plastic-chair-that-was-originally-mine" when she burst into tears rather than offer me a seat. It took all my courage to say the words, appreciating her for the years when she had been a loyal friend; acknowledging that she was right to have refused my offer to ‘date’, knowing that we really did not have much in common; pleading that she put the happenings of the day behind her and allow us to continue as good friends.

I told her about the many questions I had asked myself already on my way to her room. I told her that I would never stop wondering if a little more loyalty from my end would have won her over, if a little more perseverance would have helped her to find joy in the things that made me happy. What if I had not sent that text to both of them? What if I had not met ‘CY? What if I had not written that article?

I knew then that I loved them both, but I would always love ‘Sandra more. ‘Sandra was the quintessential friend, the type that did not understand or get involved in what you did – but was loyal none-the-less; ‘CY was the stuff of which dream girls were made – shared passions and common interests – but she was too good to be true.

I knew then that I would meet some girl later on, who would combine attributes from these two.


++++
All of a sudden, there was a lump in my throat.

Tears gathered in my eyes as I watched ‘Sandra cry, threatening to reveal the turmoil I felt inside. I swallowed hard as I fought the urge to put my arm around her shoulders and comfort her. I dug my fingers into the back of my chair till they hurt,willing myself to remain seated. It was better to let her cry, to leave her to settle this on her own.

It hurt me even deeper to see her hurt so. The sight of tears wracking her body, throwing her lean frame to and fro like a leaf before the wind, would haunt me for years to come. The sound of her crying would wake me from my sleep, stabbing at my heart in an endless rhetoric: “What If?”

THE END

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I let out a little yelp, and my room mates gathered around me immediately. Dumb stricken, I let the phone fall from my hand – and someone picked it up and read the text out loud. They all went quiet for a while, and then started to talk all at once. Everyone had an idea on how to save the day, and each person felt their idea was best.

After a few minutes of hullabaloo, someone suggested that I dash out of the room immediately, meet 'Sandra on the way, and head for the palace; I would turn my phones off, and explain to ‘CY on returning that I had to do something for someone urgently. They all went quiet, and then started to talk all at once again – everyone claiming the idea was originally theirs.

It seemed to make sense, so I picked my phones and wallet and left the room. As I descended the stairs, I called ‘Sandra to say I had gotten tired of waiting and had left my room – so we would meet halfway. She was already at the hostel gates by this time, and so said she would return to the bus-stop.. My plan was to take a bike from my house, so doing reduce the risk of inadvertently running into ‘CY.

As I made the three minute walk to the gates, I thought back over the events of the past few weeks. ‘sandra was yet to congratulate me on my article; in fact I did not think she had read it yet. I had come to grips with the fact that we did not share much common ground, and more importantly – she could not be bothered to become interested in my passions. While we could survive that as friends – it would not be good for a dating relationship.

I thought back to my second epiphany. Things were a little better – at least now I had one more female friend. I had since given up expecting all women to be versions of ‘Sandra, and even though I honestly did not know what ‘CY’s motivations were – it felt good to know I was making progress on this point.

I knew I was fully responsible for not developing other friendships over the years – preferring to give all my time and attention to ‘Sandra. I would not deceive myself that she was responsible for that in anyway. What I had to do now was change that.

I smelt ‘Sandra before I saw her; the distinctive scent of Omnia Green Jade. She was beautiful, as always, dressed in a simple blue dress and carrying one of her trademark Ankara handbags. I looked upon her and knew: I would always love this girl.

There was a lot on my mind, a lot that I wished I could tell her as I took her hands –but I could not bring myself to speak. In that instant I decided this would be our last ‘date’ in this undefined state: professing to be best friends, but acting like lovers and blocking each other’s chances. When we got back I would take her into some empty classroom, and we would align on a way forward for our friendship.

She smiled at me and started to say something, but then stopped. It started to drizzle lightly; the heavens shedding tears for me, expressing how I felt at what I had to do. I closed my eyes, and ran my fingers all over hers, vainly trying to memorise the velvet of her touch. Tears formed behind my tightly clenched eyelids,and I ground my teeth together to keep from crying. As we climbed into an almost-full bus, I knew this was a magic moment – a last ‘date’ – and there was nothing I could imagine that would mar this experience.

The keyword in that last thought of mine must have been the word ‘imagine’, as what happened next could not have happened in my wildest imaginations.

She smiled at me as we settled into the back seats. We still had not said a word to each other. There were three of us on a row of seats that ordinarily sat four, so it was as comfortable as a bus could get. The driver started the bus and the tires started to roll, when the conductor ordered a stop to take on one more passenger.

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Wait till you read the final piece…

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Within one week of seeing that play, I re-discovered passions and hobbies I had thought lost forever. I would dream up some exotic activity in the morning and send texts to both of them – inviting them to ‘trip’ with me. Inevitably, ‘sandra would say no – and in fairness to her, suggest some other activity that she preferred. ‘cynthia on the other hand seemed to exist for me, and so we did all sorts together.

We saw plays and attended book-reading events. We explored the Anatomy museum and got lost walking around the Staff Quarters. I began to spend less and less time with ‘sandra. In the past, I would plead with her when she refused to do something with me – and still hang out with her regardless of her decision. Now, all that had passed. I had an option, and a beautiful one at that. My heart would sometimes revolt, but inevitably acquiesce – after all, it felt good to finally do the things I wanted.

I had the best of both worlds. At least so I thought until it all came undone. One fine Saturday morning, I awoke with a renewed urge to visit the Ovie’s palace. I had drawn up a list of ten locations within and around the University campus I wanted to visit before graduating – and the palace was one of them. I had studied a book about the origins of the urhobo tribe back in my first year, and had wanted to see many things. For Three years I had asked ‘sandra to go with me – receiving a negative answer on all occasions. Now I had an option. As had become my habit recently, I sent out a text message to both ladies. While I awaited their responses, I took my bath and got ready to go out.

I was stunned when ‘sandra responded in the affirmative. It was so shocking that I called her immediately to verify that she read the text right. When she explained that it had been long since we spent quality time together and she thought this was a good opportunity, I knew I had boxed myself into a corner. I chuckled, weakly, and arranged to meet her at BMS in about an hour. The instant I dropped the call, my mind went into a mad race for excuses. I needed one for ‘CY, and I had better find it fast!

After holding a hurried conference with my room mates and creating a shortlist, I settled on the most basic excuse: I had just found I needed to turn in my Head and Neck Seminar on Monday and did not have the luxury of time – hence we would visit the palace next week. I was not a convincing liar, and my fingers trembled as I dialed her number. The trembling grew worse when I found that her phone was switched off. A friend suggested going to her room, but it was well before the 12pm visiting time. As we deliberated other options for reaching her, there was a knock at the door.

As I turned the knob to open the door, I caught that familiar scent and knew: it was ‘CY. She had pulled the ultimate one on me: rather than respond to my message, she had gotten dressed and showed up. My foolery had finally cut up with me. I had no option other than to continue with my prepared excuse. As she made herself comfortable on my bed, I explained that Mr. Enahwo had slammed my class with yet another seminar topic.. Yes, it was his habit to give out projects at random. No, this was different from the one I wrote last week. Yes, I had missed his class during the week, so I only just found out. Yes, it absolutely needed to be ready by Monday. No, I could not start writing it tomorrow and needed to get to work immediately. Sorry, but would she kindly agree to move our ‘palace visit’ till the next Saturday?

My room mate winked at me as I spun an elaborate web of deceit. Thumbs went up all around the room – of course out of her range of vision – as my room mate applauded my skill at lying with conviction. I patted myself on the back – in my mind – as I put on my most pitiful face, describing how much I had looked forward to the visit and how it would have been more fun because we were going together. My phone started to ring, but I could not take any calls right then, so I reached into my pocket and muted it.

And then she responded: she had not really wanted to go out, she said, but agreed because she would do anything for me. Her original plan had been to come and cook for me, in my room! I could work on my computer while she cooked outside. She would be as quiet as possible, almost invisible. That was win-win, she said, I would work on my assignment and we would still spend the day together. If I was aligned, she would now leave for Big market to get the necessary ingredients, and would be back in about an hour. My phone beeped twice, giving an eerie sense of finality to her statements. I was suddenly dumb. The entire room went quiet.

I could not say a word as she stood to leave for the market. She blew me a kiss as she stepped out the door, and I smiled weakly in return. For want of something else to do, I retrieved my phone from my pocket. It was a text from ‘sandra. She had decided to meet me in my room instead…......

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I could remember the whole incident without any effort

On that fateful day I went to the school's cafeteria to find my stomach its comfort,
With the intention that my break away from the protest will be brief and short,
Only for my eyes to be caught up with an angelic beauty of some sort.

Sitting alone on a table for two was this girl, the exact girl of my dream Innocently having a peaceful lunch: potato chips and a cup of ice cream.
She seemed far away as if she was at the other end of the stream.
"Will you be my girlfriend" my heart wanted to scream.

I walked towards her but before I was close enough, The peaceful protest outside started to turn rough.
The police shot tear gas in the air, everywhere was tensed and tough.
People ran helter skelter raising dust, I guess that made her cough.

Then the real shooting began and everyone became scared.
I offered her my hand as a gesture that I cared.
She looked into my eyes and I guess she saw that even death at that moment I dared.
Though in the corner of my heart I prayed that we could be spared.

As we ran for cover I asked for her name,
Only to look up and saw she wasn't the same.
Till today no one know from where the bullet came
But it went straight to her heart and she gave up within the shortest time frame.

There were reports that at that point I actually went mad
Justifying the few days I spent in the psychiatric ward..... yes it was that bad....
Though today makes it 5 years ago; remembering the whole incident still makes me sad.
Because I helplessly watched the girl of my dream die as the girlfriend I never had.

WARNING:
*******All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely UN-intentional.*********

.............As I turned around – almost in slow motion – to greet him, my heart prayed all sorts of prayers: that it was not really him, that power supply to coca cola spot would fail all of a sudden and I would disappear under the cloak of darkness, that he would be here alone – looking to grab a quick meal before heading back to his laptop.

I caught the smell of Omnia Green Jade for the second time in one night. As I extended my hand to ‘Ruki, I saw her. She was standing right behind him.

-Cont'd-

You know how it feels when you steal for the very first time and get caught? I felt exactly that way. I went weak at the knees, and my mouth went dry. My heart cursed ‘Ruki for showing up at this inopportune moment. It did not help that ‘Sandra was smiling at me, that full toothy vulnerable smile of hers. I felt like a cheating boyfriend, husband even. My epiphanies were yet to acquire legs: my heart was winning the battle with my head.

‘Ruki had been so sure I would meet them here that he had called ahead to book dinner for three. My voice seemed to come from outside of me as I negotiated with the waiter to return one plate. I mumbled unintelligible when ‘Sandra asked why we had four plates instead of three. My legs felt like logs of wood as I led the way to the table in the corner.

Although they did a great job at hiding it, they were both shocked to find that I had invited someone else to dinner. I introduced her as ‘Cy, stressing that I had only met her that day. I also made sure to mention that she read my article and had contacted me. I was briefly excited to learn that ‘Ruki had also read it, and even though I did not expect better – disappointed to learn that ‘Sandra had not. I chose to entirely avoid the unspoken question of why ‘Cynthia was there. Explaining to ‘Ruki and ‘Sandra that I forgot our ‘date’ would suggest that it was not important to me, and make ‘Cynthia feel like an intruder.

There was so much tension in the air – you could cut it with a knife. ‘Sandra withdrew into her shell, concentrating on her food and randomly glaring across the table at ‘Cynthia. ‘Ruki got into a conversation with ‘Cynthia about the role of the church in politics, occasionally asking my perspective on recent happenings. As for me, my salivary glands had taken my taste-buds with them on leave. The food tasted like leather, the drink like urine. I shifted in my seat and shuffled my feet – alternately happy that ‘Ruki was there to keep ‘Cynthia company and sad that I had bungled my first ‘other date’ in Three years.

That dinner was the longest of my life. I could not have been more grateful when we finally stood to leave. It was late in the evening, and ‘Ruki had to answer the call of nature – potentially leaving me with both ladies. My heart leaped for joy when ‘Cynthia said she was going toward cannon mason, and would walk with him. I almost asked for her room number, my head having decided that I would see her again – but then decided against it, as my heart did not want to upset ‘Sandra further. We said our goodbyes at main gates, and made for our different destinations.

As I walked with 'Sandra to campus 3; medical hostel – taking the path through Ekrejeta – my mind went over the events of the day. It had been a long, long, day. My article had turned out a huge success; my self-confidence had taken a major boost; I had, had two epiphanies that could potentially change my life; and I had met a wonderful woman who was genuinely interested in me. ‘sandra did not say a word for the entire duration of our walk; I did not notice until weeks after.

My life changed from the very next day.

On my way to class, I noticed posters for a play at Artscan hall that same evening. I had always wanted to see a play at the Arts Theatre, but‘ Sandra had never shared my enthusiasm – always finding something else for us to do together instead.

As I studied the cast, I instantly knew without asking that ‘cynthia would accept to go with me. I don’t know what came over me, but I decided to run a little experiment – so I sent the same text to them both, inviting them to see the play with me. I remembered my second epiphany from the previous: I was still comparing both ladies, but for the first time in Three years – I had setup an even game. Finally, one epiphany had translated into action.

‘sandra responded first. Thirty minutes after I sent the text, she replied saying how much she hated the Theatre and how there would be too many sweaty people there. She had just gotten the latest High School Musicals movie, and would rather have us watch that in her room. Furthermore, she wanted me to get suya from the Students Union Building on my way. I just smiled.

‘Cynthia responded about an hour later. She was sorry she had not responded immediately, she was in class – she said. Yes! She would love to see the play with me, and she was going to ask me if I had not asked first. There was even more. She had gotten our tickets just before calling me, so all I had to do was show up.
I let out a little whoop, dancing a jig right there on the road. Life was good, but that was only the beginning…

There are many fishes in the ocean but I wonder why some guys chase desperately after one particular fish.
No matter the reason, there’s no need to fawn over one babe when there are thousands of them. In the long run, desperate guys end up being the topic of discussion among the babes (you really don’t want to know the MO of such discussions). Guys, once you notice a babe isn’t interested in you move on.

I attend in school a growing church with a small population of brethren. At this stage of the church, you rarely find the extraordinarily, fearfully and wonderfully made sisters (they prefer the bigger churches). And am not saying that the sisters presently attending the church aren’t fearfully and wonderfully made. Unlike (most) some guys, who attend church to hook up with babes, I look forward to divine visitation.

However, as God will have it, the steps of these beautiful creatures are directed to our modest assembly once in a while. This is the story of a very good friend of mine and an ursher in my church(fellowship)

I’m an usher in my church and it’s my duty to welcome children of God into the presence of their father.

Six months ago, I welcomed a fearfully and wonderfully made sister into church and immediately my ‘worldly mind’ began to create certain images I had to bind and loose. However, after the service, I planned on how to come up with a spiritual parole without including ‘the Lord says’ or ‘I had a dream’(why do you need to involve God in parole? Smh) the next I spotted her amongst the brethren.

Then next Sunday arrives and I welcome her and a young man into church only to find out after the service that the guy was her fiancé. With this new piece of info, I couldn’t execute my spiritual parole. I decided to quit the parole and forge ahead ‘cos I knew there were other fearfully and wonderfully made sisters in the community of the saints.

Some weeks after my ‘spiritual encounter’, I witnessed desperation in action. I was standing outside the church when I sighted this beautiful sister afar off in nicely sewn traditional attire.

All I could do was smile and wait to welcome her to her Father’s house were old things became new and fresh but before she could make it to the church gate, she was accosted by a guy in a black Honda. He tried to initiate a conversation but she just kept walking- ignoring this gentleman. When she got to the gate of the church, the guy zoomed off but I understood perfectly what transpired between them.

In exactly 15 minutes to the end of service, a black Honda parked outside the church and the guy in the car beckoned on me. I thought he was lost and needed directions so I approached him. On getting to the car, the next thing I heard was “Bros, how far? Shey you sabi one dark babe for your church?”
“Dark babe? In this church, it’s possible. How can I help you?” I replied. He then described her outfit then I knew he was the guy I saw earlier.

He asked me to give her his number but I told him that it wasn’t my duty. I advised him to wait till the end of service since he claimed she knew him. But he pleaded with me that I should help a brother out. So, I gave him a sheet of paper to write his number down only to realise he was writing an epistle. He handed back the sheet of paper and as an usher only allowed to transport holy material on Sundays I read the note and it baffled me.

“Hello beautiful,my name is Kunle, I really like you and I would love you to call me, here’s my number….”

then I said “Bros, I thought you only wanted write down your number” but he beseeched me to deliver it.

A spiritual messenger now became a messenger of parole. After the service, I gave her the note; she read it, hissed and threw it in the dustbin. 30 minutes later, he passed by the church and parked when he saw me. He asked if I delivered his message, I said yes. He asked of her reaction, what could I say, I said she had no reaction.

When he left the church, I wondered why some guys aspire to become objects of ridicule. This wasn’t the only babe in the world na, why bother tracking her down, 3 times in one day, when the damsel had shown no interest.

Desperation sure make us do SOME crazy things. Know your worth.

I walked into coca cola spot a few minutes before 7pm. It felt wrong, criminal even, to sit at the centre-table where I met ‘Sandra exactly Three years to the day – so I chose a different one in the dimly lit corner. I sunk into my chair, acutely aware this was her favourite restaurant and she might walk in at any time.

Then she, the other she, arrived.
She came in and looked around – failing to notice me – and retrieved her phone from her clutch-purse. Evidently, she was going to dial my number. I made no move to stop her and introduce myself, preferring instead to observe her from the anonymity of my seat. She was lighter skinned, of a slightly smaller build, and had shorter hair.

In that instant, I realised I was subconsciously comparing her to ‘Sandra. I had just had my second epiphany of the day – my subconscious expectation that every woman in my life would be another ‘Sandra had led me to the point where I had only one female friend, ‘Sandra. My original epiphany now had a Siamese twin.

I waited till my phone rang, then I rose and walked over to her. As I introduced myself while steering her towards my choice table, I caught a whiff of her perfume. My heart stopped for a second, and I gasped for air. The smell was unmistakable. She wore Omnia Green Jade by Bvlgari, ‘Sandra’s favourite perfume. I have never believed in coincidence, and so in that instant I knew – something was going to go wrong.

We settled at the table without any incident, and made small talk while we waited for our food. She introduced herself as Cynthia, a lover of all things written. She thought I was one of the best amateur writers ever, and wanted to know if I planned to write a book. She read Malcolm Gladwell, and thought there were similarities between his work and mine. She had a blog, and wanted to know if she could re-publish my article or create one for me. I felt important, admired even. Five minutes into our conversation, all my fears had disappeared.

More time passed. We talked about Nigeria, and we talked about lizards. We talked about school, and we talked about the recent ‘Colour Blocking’ scourge. She wanted to know why I chose to study Anatomy instead of English Literature. She wanted to know what inspired my writing. She was very expressive: leaning forward when I spoke, stabbing the air to punctuate her sentences, and hanging on to my every word. She was different.

Thirty minutes passed, and the food had still not come. The service at Coca cola spot had not improved much in those three years. In fact – they still had the same waiter from my first day on campus. Under different circumstances I would be glad that they were delaying, but the University Management had recently begun to shut the school gate at 11.45pm – so we did not have all the time in the world… I reluctantly drew myself from our conversation to ask why our food had not been served.

As I approached the counter, I noticed that Coca cola was rapidly filling up. All other tables were now taken, and if a few more customers came in – they would have to join us at our table. I fervently hoped that would not happen, as I looked forward to being alone with ‘Cynthia until we really had to leave. And just then, I heard a familiar voice call me. My heart stopped for another second. At this rate, I was going to be dead before the end of the day.

I suddenly remembered that my friend ‘ruki, had promised to take me and ‘Sandra out for dinner after his 'Maga' paid. We had pestered him after he collected control number to ‘wash’ it for us, and he accepted – quite surprisingly. After postponing twice due to his busy schedule, we had finally agreed on a date – January 12. In the euphoria surrounding the success of my article and my dinner invitation – I had completely forgotten. Now, he was here – calling my name. ‘Sandra was sure to be somewhere around!

As I turned around – almost in slow motion – to greet him, my heart prayed all sorts of prayers: that it was not really him, that power supply to. Coca cola would fail all of a sudden and I would disappear under the cloak of darkness, that he would be here alone – looking to grab a quick meal before going back to his laptop.
I caught the smell of Omnia Green Jade for the second time in one night. As I extended my hand to ‘Ruki, I saw her. She was standing right behind him…

*******All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely UN-intentional.*********

I became confused. She would not say a yes, or a no. I was lost. I had been so certain all I needed to do to ‘formalize’ our relationship was just ask. Now, I had become the laughing stock of my friends. After all, how many guys ‘chased’ a girl for Two years? I prayed. I sang. I fasted. I thought. I dyed my hair. I got a new perfume. I changed bathing soaps. Nothing changed; well, maybe something did – my grades fell, alongside my self-confidence.
And then I met ‘Cynthia..

-cont'd-

Earlier in 100level, i contested for "MR Anatomy" a pageantry stuff organised by my department for her 100level students(freshers) also, my signature article, For the Love of Nigeria, was published on unity magazine and the editor included my contact details below the post.

By this time, I had lost confidence in my ability to achieve anything. My CGPA had sunk despicably, my finances were in dire straits, and my friendships had badly deteriorated. Yet, my dream girl – the cause of it all – continued to elude me at every turn. I needed something to boost my self-confidence, to prove to myself that I was still good at something – so I decided to sit at the basement and watch people read and react to my article.

In retrospect, that was the first good decision I would make in about three years. The public reception was so good – I had to put my phones on silent to remain inconspicuous. Many readers sent me texts complementing the quality of my writing and the depth of my argument. Three burly fellows from canon mason got in a fight while arguing some of the finer points, and had to be hurled off to the Student Union Building. A journalist from Tell Magazine who happened to be visiting her nephew on campus mailed me requesting permission to reproduce it… It was too good to be true, yet it all felt strangely empty.

You see, ‘Sandra had never appreciated my writing. She never understood why I spent countless hours fine-tuning the personalities of characters in my stories, or why I got emotional about the struggles they faced. As far as she was concerned, they existed only in my thoughts – and were therefore not worth her attention. Actually, nothing I thought was worth her attention. She would never congratulate me on this article, or a future one for that matter. She would not even read it. As I sat on that slab outside the Anatomy Morgue, tears starting to stream down my cheeks – I had an epiphany – I would never get any validation from ‘Sandra
.
The flash-bulbs went off in my head. I suddenly realised how I had done all the giving in our friendship. She had never gotten me a gift for my birthday – even forgetting to call me once. She did not know where I lived. She did not know the names of my siblings. She did not respect my time, opinions, or person – taking it for granted that I would always be there when she needed me. We never spoke about my plans, my family, my thoughts – or anything that had to do with me. Our relationship was painfully one-sided. I had to face a hurtful truth: she did not love me back.

Epiphanies – sudden realisations though they are – seldom cause instant change. In that instant, my head knew it was futile to love her – but my heart remained sold. My epiphany needed legs.

The indicator light on my Blackberry blinked red, so I picked it up and started to read through the messages received while I was lost in thought. Nearly all of them were the usual fare, conveying the sender’s appreciation for my skill or argument. One stood out, however. It was evident it had been written with care, by someone who paid attention to detail. There were spaces after the full stops and commas, line breaks to mark paragraphs, and capital letters were properly used. The sender was a Political Science major who wanted to meet over dinner to discuss my article. I read through again, and noticed the message was not signed. Evidently, the sender preferred to remain anonymous till our physical meeting.

It was a no-brainer. Attention starved as I was, I was desperate to meet with someone that wanted to talk to me about me. I responded conveying my willingness to meet, and suggesting that we meet at coca cola spot for 7pm.
As I dressed up in my room, guilt started to set in. I felt dirty, dishonourable even. I was absolutely positive the sender was female, and it felt like I was cheating on ‘Sandra. Actually, it was the first time in Three years that I would have dinner with someone else. I tried to reason with my heart, to explain that ‘Sandra did not care where I was, who I was with, or what I did – but the feeling would not pass. Therefore, it was with a heavy heart that I set out for Bush Bar

It was January 12 2013…

Nna men this girl don erase me from her life. A whole ME, Eziokwu? Does she know who I am? These were the initial thoughts that ran through my mind. But after a while (a couple minutes) I decided to move on with my life. I consider myself to be every woman’s delight. The sad reality is that this was not the first time this happened to me.

There was this babe named 'L' that I meet. This girl fine pass all the babes I don date. We started hanging out and vibe with each other. Things dey flow well and so on. One obstacle was that I was casually dating someone else, 'P' at the time. 'P' and I were not exclusive. It was understood that we could date other people. So when I meet 'L' I told her up front about 'P'. She was cool with it at first but then finally started to apply pressure about what we were doing.

She sternly said "you have 2 weeks to make up your mind", I nodded and after two weeks she asked what my decision was and I was still undecided. After that she pretty much cut me off.

So when L did her own magic I knew what was going to happen. First, she would feel liberated and glad that the “Ass” is out of her life. Her friends will give her high fives as in you did right thing because Hman was Dulling. After the high fives and so are over and done with L will have to go back to her domain alone. Second, loneliness starts to creep in and finally she breaks down and she decides to make contact.

In L’s case she was strong headed and waited a couple weeks before making contact again. In fact, she showed up to “the Lion’s Den”, my house, for an event. After the gathering was over; we started with small talk and before we knew it we were exchanging salvia. We talked briefly about the ultimatum but not too specific. We started seeing each other more and more and by the time we knew it we are dating casually just like I wanted … Yay, I win.

She still complains every now and then about wanting a relationship but I combat those with not being ready. Not sure what’s going to happen with us going forward.

My questions is why are Nigerian women in such a hurry to settle down. Time dey … wouldn’t you much rather be single at 35 than married and pissed off at 35. As for L I think my unwillingness to conform to her demands and/or not willing to fight for her has really turned her off. But let’s see what happens....

All of a sudden, there was a lump in my throat.
Tears gathered in my eyes as I watched sandra cry, threatening to reveal the turmoil I felt inside. I swallowed hard as I fought the urge to put my arm around her shoulders and comfort her. I dug my fingers into the back of my chair till they hurt, willing myself to remain seated. It was better to let her cry, to leave her to settle this on her own.

It hurt me even deeper to see her hurt so. The sight of tears wracking her body, throwing her lean frame to and fro like a leaf before the wind,would haunt me for years to come. The sound of her crying would wake me from my sleep, stabbing at my heart in an endless rhetoric: “What If?”

I met her my first day on campus, January 12 2010. I was sitting in coca cola spot, sipping a bottle of Coke while I waited for my food after a very hard day after trying to pay my acceptance fee. It was half an hour since I placed my order, and I was becoming angry at being kept waiting. I stood up to ask the waiter what the issue was, and then I saw her. She had beautiful hair, neatly combed and fit into a loose bun that bounced with her every step. She had dancing eyes, here this moment and there the next, leading you on and on till you fell under her trance. Her voice had a singsong quality: strong, yet alluring. She was beautiful. I sat down again.
She asked if she could sit with me. I mumbled something un-intelligent in response. I was lost already. She tried to make small talk. I stammered in-coherently. I had not beheld such beauty so closely before.

I was suddenly clumsy. I spilled my drink. I set the glass down hastily. She reached over and steadied it. Our fingers brushed for a brief second. It was done. I was taken.
The meal passed in a blur. I offered to walk her to her hostel. She laughed, deeply, throwing her head back and swaying her neck from side to side before responding that I needed no permission. I swear there was a twinkle in her eyes when she said that. I walked with her to Medical hostel. We sat at the common room and talked for an hour. When she stood to leave for her room, I offered my hand for a shake – hoping to feel the velvet of her touch again. She brushed it aside, and hugged me instead. I almost died.

We became best friends, inseparable. We would walk to class together, sit together, and return together. I attended classes for courses I was not registered for – just so I could be with her. I joined the fellowship of her choice against the will of my friends. I spent my breaks with my Aunt in Lagos so I could visit her at home every day. We would talk about her plans for the future, argue about how many children she should have, and plan her vacations ten years ahead. Friends and family referred to us as ‘5’ and ‘6’, and most of our acquaintances assumed, wrongly, that we were in a relationship. This went on for a year there about.

Then I asked her to be my girlfriend.
She pretended not to hear the first time. I waited a week, and asked again. We were sitting under one of the tree in campus 3. We had gone there to pray, but somehow her head had ended up on my laps – my arms around her as I said the words. She laughed, rocking from side to side within my embrace – and said: “We are best friends. Is that not enough?”

I pressed harder, but she would not budge. I tried every trick in the book. I sent her flowers. I read her poems that seemed to bore her to death. I bought her Fossil watches and Louis Vuitton bags. I told her how much I loved her. I told her it was not enough to be best friends: that I wanted to grow old with her; I wanted to die lying in her arms; I wanted to share everything with her. And she would just smile. This went on for a another year. I became confused. She would not say a yes, or a no. I was lost. I had been so certain all I needed to do to ‘formalize’ our relationship was just ask. Now, I had become the laughing stock of my friends. After all, how many guys ‘chased girl for two years? I prayed. I sang. I fasted. I thought. I dyed my hair. I got a new perfume. I changed bathing soaps. Nothing changed; well, maybe something did – my grades fell, alongside my self-confidence.

And then I met ‘cynthia…

Yeah Yeah...I know. Been a while right? School ish an a lot more other complicated things going on in my life right now has made me lost my mojo. So I Came home for the weekend and I think I'm getting it back. Enjoy........

That Love That Won't Die

It all started at a GiG organised by our school SUG. And by the time I had fallen in love, I didn't even know that I had fallen-into-love. I tried to fight off the feeling. This emotion was alien to my nature. I had never felt anyone feel this way about me before, and now I felt this way, about her.

It was sweet at first. We'd pick a garden and curdle our legs beneath the big old trees. Under the shade, no one could see us. We were buried in each others eyes.
But when the tough times came, we had it rough. Countless times, she saying " Bye, I'm going. I'm gone".
She always came back, not to apologise but to wade through the spheres of my chest and whisper " Don't know why, but I can't leave".

We were spirits and our bodies were mere shells. So, in times of passion, we tore through the walls of our flesh. Bleeding in love every crevice of our bodies.
We were magnetic. Each time I pulled away, a stronger force drew me closer. I did not have a mind of my own, and neither did she.

Our love was a soft violin, a soft hand dilly dangling on the strings of purity that melted our souls into one. We never existed. We lived in a monologue, a "to be or not to be" moment in time. She was perfect for me and I for her. We were too perfect to be mortals. So we died.