When people encourage me to write, I’m often perplexed. I want to tell them that my writing is selfish, the moral there is for me, the mistakes are often mine, the ethical and moral dilemmas are mine as well. I write majorly for myself. It’s all my head!!
Thank you for sharing in my private jokes, y’all are not normal that’s why. I should love you, but you know my love has terms and conditions. It is true that we all choose our sufferings, and since its my unserious writing and poor judgment in matters of little consequence to state affairs or heart that y’all have chosen, onward we shall.
Anyways, today I’ll gist you about the first girl I should’ve dated.
How we met with her is the craziest story ever.
I stole her from my neighbor who thought we were friends. The sad part is, she wasn’t the only one I stole. Egbon I’m sorry, I know say na water under bridge for us now, you still be my guy for area. How far when you go carry your new babe show area na? I for like buy you one bottle oh.
Anyways, it was 2008, we were fresh out of secondary school, night call then was the shit. It was one of the absolute show of dedication to a cause as pure as love.
Do you know what it means to wait for 12 am MTN time to be able to talk to girl till 4 am? Do you know how many things can go wrong? Do you know that a second before 12 am MTN time means no night call for you that day? Do you know that I’ll have to wake up by 6 am for devotion? You think I didn’t have a day job then?
Anyways this girl was a Rose, a rose that was peached face and petite in the manner portrayed by hints magazine as beautiful.
She carried the bosom of the world on her 16 years old chest, and strutted with a certain je ne sais quoi that I at the moment cannot describe.
She led the pack of beautiful and brilliant in the way of FGGC Langtang girls in our remote angwa. I really need to stop crushing on FGGC Langtang girls. Those girls are serial heartbreakers. I say this with the breath of one that has had his airs punched out severally from his belly by the gut wrenching pain of loosing.
Anyways, it was at a party I first saw her. Make I no lie, I love house parrys. There’s a feel that endears me to it.
Egbon was happy showing off the woman he brought. As we all are when we realize we have the prettiest girl in the room. He talked with her for a moment exclusively, and he evidently enjoyed his own voice as he laughed loudly to his own jokes. “What a simp” I thought!
As I fiddled my 3310 Nokia phone playing snake like a big boy that I wasn’t, he now brought her to where I had been sitting, I was alone at a house party in my area! Dude, I am not a loner, but I sometimes enjoy the company of the demons in my head that have currently taken hold of this writing.
He did the necessary introductions, then whispered in my ears “baba Maale de call me for house, make I enter run am sharp” as per because I am quiet I cannot toast babe ba?
Have you ever had that koi no yokan feeling? It’s like an intense feeling that makes you know that you and the person will like each other upon meeting for the first time.
Fortune sometimes smile on the shy, and this time we were chatting like we’d known each other for ages.
Quietly without bragging, I know that I can hold a conversation with anyone if I’m in the mood. We first talked about waec and I told her how poorly I was anticipating to do. We talked about people who were doing chokes and the juju stories that happened in hostels. She laughed heartily at all my silly jokes while I peered into her hazel brown eyes smiling sheepishly.
Do you know the mood Dbanjs “Fall in love” can put you in when you meet someone you want to fall in love with for the first time?
Anyways, when Egbon came back several hours later, we were hugging each other by the corner. I had her in my arms with a lascivious grin as I savored the feel of the weight of the world pressed against my chest. Her hands were wrapped tightly around my neck, and we rocked and looked into each others eyes and talked.
As he came, I knew I wouldn’t be the center of attention anymore, and since I had put thoughts into her mind, I knew they’d sprout. I however failed to consider if she had put thoughts in my head. As it’s common with those who’ve aged poorly to reminisce those old days, I think she deliberately pressed those chest on me. Guys, fear FGGC girls.
Anyways, after that day, I started my devotion to night calls and the NYSC mandated duty of going to their house. We walked the dusty path together and chose the longest routes to her home. It was an age when there were no fears for street boys mugging you nor touts collating you. It was an age where the street knew the street, and the hood liked young people studying, and falling in love.
Unfortunately for me, I failed to tell her how much i felt about her. I should’ve told her I loved her in the ways of teenage boys and teenage girls. I assumed such things were implied.
Let me stop here before I shed a few tears in memory. They say there’s something all serial killers have in common. “The one that got away”. In my case, the ones that got away were too much. There’s no regret.
We recently met, and shared one of those long walks.
She told me thank you for the memories, and i refused to thank her back.
I’m still peeved, and I still blame her for not knowing my thoughts. The last thing I wanted to do was look back, but I did and she now has a cute butt.
There, that’s the story.
My story of should’ve been.