I know what y’all be thinking….that I left you in quite a bit of suspense and more importantly, left unceremoniously too. That wasn’t my intention, in fact you only take affront to my leaving cause you haven’t experience the wrath of Mama. Take Muhammad Ali, doing his butterfly floating and bee stinging thingy, combine that with the Incredible Hulk, always ripping and renting clothes and finally add the cold aloofness of Voldemort to that cocktail of terror. That is Mama when’s she gets angry.
But yet again, I digress.
It wasn’t like I had walked up to her and said “let’s hump our brains out,” I almost did that but that wasn’t what I wanted. All I wanted was a companion, someone to be there when I needed someone and vice versa. The problem was that I had gotten to the meat of the pie without first eating the dough. I had said “be mine” without first acknowledging or inventing feelings for her.
To tell you the truth, love has always been sort of an illusion to me. Like that perfect Fufu, with just the right ratio of firmness to suppleness, I’ve always felt true love was a myth. A story probably invented by aliens to conceal their slow and insidious infiltration of our minds and fill us with unrealistic dreams and aspirations. But that, my friend, is another story.
I swear you could have heard a pin drop. Who would have thought an unruly group of college kids could be this decorous? For the next 2 minutes, ears were straining to pick up the next words and I’m sure quite a few other occupants of the room – my friends inclusive – were waiting for the inevitable slaps-giving.
And 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”.
It was all part of the strategy. The i-be-so-lonely-and-i-haven’t-had-a-girlfriend-for-2-years-running strategy it was, but still I had an inkling of a plan and half bread as we all know is way better than buns.
You see there was two possible replies to that: “Huh? What did you just say?” and “Yes, please!”
If she replied “huh? What did you just say?”I would have just tugged at my collar and reply, “I said there’s quite a trickle of people given the weather.” It would have saved my cheeks and gotten me an opening line with her.
And if she had said, “Yes, Please! by all means do”, I sir, would have immediately called my cab guy and adjourned the subsequent part of the conversation to the comfort of my room.
Alas I had finally met one for whom the phrase “breaking the mold” was coined. She simply stared at me for a couple of moments with something akin to disappointment in her face, picked up her school bag and walked out of the eatery without a word. The utter look of contentment on my face after about a minute or two would have being puzzling to people who didn’t know what I did. She was coming back, in fact, in the next five minutes she was gonna walk right through that door back to this table and also, on an unrelated subject, I’m awesome.
I was yet to apply for any job yet, so I really don’t know how it feels after hearing the ubiquitous “we’ll get back to you” and being finally gotten back to. But I can imagine that to an extent, I would very much feel like I did while waiting for her to realize how awesome I was and come back, apologize for leaving abruptly, hand me a sheet of paper containing her pin, phone numbers and house address and finally beg me to fix a date for the consummation of our newfangled relationship. If nothing else, just like Martin Luther, I had the right to “have a dream”
The swing of the revolving door brought me out of my day time fantasy/soap opera just as she was going down on one knee and asking me to be her boyfriend. The cute chocolatie girl, this time in realistic technicolor walked back to my table, stared at me for a couple of seconds yet again and this time picked up the enormous Medical textbook she had forgotten on the table and began the cycle all over again. She swiveled on her cute little crepe shoes and proceeded to walk away again. And this time also without a single word.
Yes, things hadn’t gone as planned, or as peculiar to this case, daydreamed. But this dude wasn’t gonna let this second chance of a lifeboat sail away without grasping on to it with both hands and holding tight for dear life. So I immediately stood up and “walk/ran” after her. Okay, I so can’t remember the name of the “Kenyanese” guy that won the Olympic medal for trekking, but apparently this girl could have given him a “walk” for his money. I had immediately stood up and followed her, but when I burst out the door, eyes scanning faster than those of Robocob and Terminator coalesced into one. I couldn’t find her. She, the object of my fantasies and daydreaming was no where to be found.
When I had earlier explained the depth of my gratitude and extent of my joy at finally getting her BlackBerry pin some of you had probably thought I was overly excitable and exaggerating as we amateur writers are prone to doing. But if you had seen me running that day. Yes monsieur, actually sprinting down the corridor towards the car park, I’m sure you would be in Concords with me when I say Usain Bolts had got nothing on me. By a freak accident I had gotten a glimpse of her reflection on the multitude of glass planes the designer of the building apparently thought classy. She had just closed the trunk of a low slung very expensive looking vehicle into which the school bag and massive textbook had obviously being dropped into and was now in the process of getting into the driver seat and zooming off not to be seen again. We sha all know that you never get to see a Unicorn twice in a single lifetime.
How I got across that fast is still a mystery to me, though I’m of the impression that I was almost faster than the speed of light and that the sound I heard while running was not thunder but rather sonic boom as I flew into Mach one and arrived at her window just as she was pulling of the curb.
Marilyn Monroe would have being proud of the grace with which she gently braked, powered down her window and purred “what took you so long?” Do I have to tell you that I was more interested in the piece of paper she handed me than in the grace with which she did it? Even if a professional gymnast had contorted herself into the most awkward or even more preferable the most “interesting” position to hand me that piece of paper. I still wouldn’t have given a hoot. I can just hear Iyanya crooning “all I want is your pin”
I wonder why Mama’s staring at me like that.
Now she’s approaching rather too innocently.
And I think she be holding a broom!
SHIT…..I haff gast to GO!!!