Love Matters? (1/3)

Today I suddenly realized why my last relationship has sunk faster than a torpedoed submarine with an overheated nuclear reactor, and why the girl I had deigned to ask out in the succeeding months had even been happier to fire bomb my requests than the Japanese at Pearl Harbor. Thinking things through has never been my forte, I’ve always been more of a “sudden realizer” or in more fancy words; “Epiphanist” so I wasn’t very surprised when a light bulb magically appeared right on top my head and this popped into my head as I was busy pounding Fufu for grandma.

For some reasons best known to my subconscious, I no longer spoke of love, thought of love, dreamt of love or even in any way acknowledge the existence of the phenomenon called love and that….is where the crayfish had bent.

I think I’m now in the timeless phase most men get to at middle age, though mine had come a little bit faster as you can see.
‘Mid-life crisis in your early 20’s?” you might wonder,’ “practicality and realism at my prime” I’ll definitely reply.

But I digress, let’s get back on track.

I had met her on a lonely day, school was empty and just a few of us “homeless” student were left in campus. Some still attending classes according to their warped academic calendar and some of us working on our projects according to our warped project supervisors.

It is said that you shouldn’t have to speak for yourself, your personality should do that for you. And hers spoke volumes.
Take a minute and imagine the Imam at the mosque close to your house, multiply that sound by 3, then imagine it being broadcast by the array of speakers those Fuji musicians use effectively to induce deafness in Owambe parties. That was how loud her personality spoke.

The first thing it said to me was” I don’t take trash.” I hadn’t even mapped out my approach strategy and she had already discern my intentions and was now giving me her poker face glare.
The second thing the personality said to me was “don’t come close to me, I just want to eat my food in peace and get back to class” but alas the poker face and cold shoulder was no match for me, just as the gazelle ain’t no match for the leopard on the hunt. In fact she either had no experience with the fervor with which boys like me adore the no-nonsense look or she underestimated the extent of my loneliness.
One way or another, that episode ended with me scaling Mount Everest, swimming the English Channel, fording the Atlantic Ocean and spending a night in embattled Mali. Therefore for all these heroics and others here unmentioned, I was rewarded with her pin. My victory smile and sigh of relief outdid that of Usain Bolts as he tried slowing down after breaking new grounds and winning his 6th Olympic medal in sprinting.


She was cute, small and dark skinned. I’ve always being intrigued and attracted by the light-skinned carriers of the double X chromosome but this was different. There was something different about her. A sparkle in those brooding eyes that was being suppressed, a once huge fire beneath those luscious lips that was now banked. Obviously there was something wrong and I wanted to fix it. There was a smile struggling to burst out that serious face and I had to help it out. I almost vowed to make it my life mission to make her happy but then I recalled the Home Video I had seen as a kid about oath-taking and immediately crossed myself. Pope Benedict would have being proud of my commitment.

A couple of things had put me in the advantage, first was that I and some of my friends had already been in the eatery before she came, so I had the home effect in my favor. second was the fact that the place was kinda crowded and I was the only person sitting alone at a table, so after ordering, it was only natural that she sat next to me, but not “with” me.
As she sat down I gave her a tentative polite smile which was met with a straight face. This was a technique I liked to call le reverse interrogation. By her reaction I could already tell that nowhere would be gotten by fawning over her, so I deliberately gave her another smile, a big boy nod, focused on my food and proceeded to forget the fact that she existed.

The plong plonging of her blackberry brought my attention back to her. By this time we were both done eating and the game was on. she waiting for me to make the move and me enjoying watching her wait for me to make the move. After bout 5 minutes I could tell she was getting restless and decided to put her out of her misery.

After much rumination and cud-chewing, I decided to use a line coined by the Maestro of virtual and practical hook-ups: vunderkind. so I leaned back on my seat, turned up the wattage of my sexy smile and said;

“Can I tickle your nipples with a feather?”

Hold up! I hear mama’s shuffling footsteps and I haven’t even made the soup. I haff gast to GO!


8 thoughts on “Love Matters? (1/3)

  1. Nice one…….me likey

  2. And Maestro Vunderkind’s lips are sealed on the matter….

    Good one brov. LOLZ. Nice piece. U better continue that shii, or…

  3. […] for all you wondering if that was a Typo, it wasn’t. I had actually asked her “Can I tickle your nipples with a feather”. […]

  4. I was attracted to d blog cos of d “love matters” post…n I wasn’t disapointd!
    Dude…u sure write wella…super cool.
    Keep up d work bruv.

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