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| LAUGH AT MY PAIN (Girl Version) |
Brace yourself, for this is not
just any regular story…
Actually, it is. I just discovered I suck at opening my stories and I thought to spice it up but yep, I still
suck. Anyway, here goes…
Like I keep saying, roughly about a
decade ago, when the word ‘shy’ was looked up in the dictionary, any one at
all, you would see a picture of me looking at the ground, sweating profusely. Luckily,
if at all, what you wouldn’t see would have been the constant battle between
the Titans and Hitler on both cheeks whenever I was exposed to any form of the
public (two people and above, or any girl at all). And then one day, Mr.
Webster and my very good friend, Macmillian, thought to surprise me by removing
my passport from their books of life and I woke up that morning feeling more
mature and more confident. Took quite some time but puberty finally held me by
the throat and forced our eyes to meet.
Yes, I had to explain all that so
you would understand my pain. This story is about why I don’t randomly approach
girls. As a young man just stepping into a colorful world, I was bound to
explore and expand what I thought was my horizon.
I remember my University days (this
makes me feel old) when I was in my second year. I went to see my neighbor-turned-friend
because of Play Station 2. He lived in a big for nothing two-story lodge that
warmed the heart of us wanna-be students. But all na packaging because they had
no light connection. On each floor, the rooms which were arranged equally on
both sides allowing a very wide and beautiful walkway to swim through. Just by
the doors of some of the rooms, there were sockets which were powered by the
room. Now, just opposite my friend’s room, there was this rich girl who probably
drilled, produced and refined crude oil in her room. Either that or she’s a
ritualist. Her generator never knew silence. This my guy did one bad-ass
generator connection with his extension and… let me save you the details of our
engineering ingenuity and also to hide our broke and dirty linens. Because our
osho-free knew no bounds, we powered the home theater, the television and
charged all our phones and laptops to the maximum so much that we probably
charged the extension too. We were extremely nice to this our Queen of Sheba.
We helped her carry her heavy loads, brought in her clothes when it rained,
chattered about everything she likes – makeups, school stuff, etc. I can’t
remember them all because the fake laughter on our faces made our consciences
stare at us in amazement and in utter shock.
One cool evening, we were basking
in the rays of our borrow-pose life when one beautiful chick walked up to the
door and asked if she could charge her phone. Why not? We had a lot of
electricity to go around. I even offered my precious phone charger to her since
she somehow expected to use Bluetooth to charge her phone. After about an hour,
we were about leaving the house but she hadn’t come for her phone. But under the the sound of my grumbles, I heard her
voice downstairs so I hurriedly picked up her phone, wore my shoes and yelled
at my friend to meet me downstairs. I capered downstairs but found my composure
when I saw her close to the gate.
“Hello…” the way she snubbed me was
just enough to make me chase her, catch her, tie her up and beat her, then sell
her to the Pharisees. I walked faster till we were both outside the compound.
“Emm, hello, please excuse me” Does
this girl think I’m shooting a music video? I finally caught up to her and
tapped her on the shoulder. She turned with a look of disgust oozing from each pore of
her face. She looked at her shoulder, at my hand, and at my face. Obviously,
she didn’t recognize me.
“Are you mad? Is that how you
approach all the girls in your village? If you know what’s good for you, stop
following me and go look for girls of your class. Rubbish!”
Chineke!!! All because I want to
return phone!!! I opened my palm so she could see her phone, then held it
tight, nodded and walked away. She followed me begging and almost crying when I
said she should forget about the phone. I had a lot of things to say to her but
because of home training…
In December, I attended a wedding
of a family friend. I was there just for the rice and salad because it was
prepared in my house but I didn’t taste any of it. I couldn’t let strangers
alone harvest the fruit and reality of my fantasy. The wedding had come and
gone, reception time, food time. The reception bubbled with life from every
angle, young people looking for the people they saw in their dreams…nightmares
included. What’s my own? I grabbed a plate and cutlery and stood in line
because there was no time for shakara on top fantasy. While making sure the
salad would get to me, I turned to see who touched the hem of my garment. A
tall beautiful and dark skinned girl stood behind me looking so elegant in a
black dress and a red rose in her hair. Her red six-inches heel shoes caught my
attention the most, so beautiful that I had to comment.
“Wow, I love your shoes”, I was
still staring down at them.
Maybe she didn’t hear me so I
looked up at her, “Your shoes are beautiful”.
She had the “I-think-he-knows-that-they-are-fake”
look so I asked, “Is everything okay?”
“Thank you but please, I have a
boyfriend”
“Toh! Aunty, it’s your shoe I like,
not you”
Breathe in, out. I totally blame
myself for that one. I should have focused on my first love, the reason I stood
on the line. I went to start admiring things of the world that will pass away.
Or maybe Uncle boyfriend has the same type of shoes…
I have experienced quite a lot more
than these but for now, this is why I can’t randomly walk up to a girl. If my
missing rib is out there roaming and waiting for me to meet her, she will probably
turn into an artifact waiting to be discovered by archeologists.
