Faith versus Wishful thinking

They say with the faith as little as mustard seeds you can move mountains but with wishful thinking you posses the irrevocable conviction that you can actually move mountains without any feasible effort. The major difference between faith and wishful thinking is when what we were hoping for becomes reality, and then we conclude the individual had faith. So whatever moves us that we believe is faith, might as well be wishful thinking and vice versa. The question now is, is it possible to distinguish a belief held together by faith or wishful thinking? 

My friend once told me the story of a man who got bored of poverty. He introspected about his life and concluded it wasn’t going anywhere and decided he needed to make a change. The decision he made that day was to own a car, how? He had no idea. This was a guy who had no reason to fear thieves because quite frankly, there was nothing worth stealing. He got decent clothes to wear that day and walked to a car dealership and with all the confidence he could muster demanded to buy a jeep that was on display. It was a very expensive jeep and also one of a kind at the dealership. The manager was glad of the sale he was going to make that day. The jeep exterior was dusty and the manager demanded he stayed in the waiting room while it was cleaned up. This man sat there as they prepared the car for him while he had nothing on him except the faith/wishful thinking of being a car owner that day. Minutes later a man drove into the dealership with his wife, it was her birthday and he decided to spoil her with a gift, a car. He asked her to select any vehicle she wanted and he would pay for it. Coincidentally, her heart went for the same jeep the man had selected which was still being cleaned up. She walked up to the manager and he explained the situation, the car had been purchased and the new owner was inside. This woman persisted, it was her birthday and no one would turn her down especially on ‘her birthday present’. The husband had to intervene; he wasn’t going to let his wife feel down on her birthday so he called for the buyer. The manager had to call the man to meet the couple, the husband pleaded with the man that had nothing in the first place to let go of the jeep and in exchange he would purchase any other car for him at the dealership. It became the man was affluent and would go any length to please his wife. That was how the man who was bored of poverty got a more expensive car. At least that was how I was told. The point I was trying to convey is how difficult it is to strike a difference between wishful thinking and faith.

During my final session in the University of Lagos there were a handful of students with great conviction that they were going to perform beyond expectations that session. Those concerned were students who wanted to graduate with a decent cumulative grade point average and it would mean having grade point averages they never had in their previous three years. The difference with this and the story illustrated above is that this one had to do with personal effort, not luck, not chance. I can say most of them didn’t get what they hoped for (not that they didn’t deserve it) but they worked hard. Let’s disregard the outcome and focus on the effort which was the hard work they put in, was it led by faith or wishful thinking of performing well. If it was faith then it was possible to be motivated by faith without getting what you want. If so, what makes faith different from wishful thinking when you consider outcomes? When you can have faith and never get what you want.

In my life, I have had huge aspirations which might as well be grandiose delusions. I want to be the best I can be which might as well be the best there is and I am working towards it. Now what should I use to keep my dream alive, faith or wishful thinking. With faith I see any failure as a stepping stone and I keep moving. Wishful thinking allows me similar outcome but different feelings. I simple go to bed and allow myself day dream of my goal and feel good throughout. I guess I will need both, faith to hold me together while wishful thinking to guide me towards being a multi-award winning…

End.

Postinor 1 (Prequel to ‘The Morning-After’)

When you study psychology you end up having one conflicting belief; never accept or reject a tentative statement or hypothesis until it has been tested. You hold this belief no matter how stupid it sounds or out of this world. It’s hard to hold this belief when you are around the guys I hang out with. These guys are one hilarious set of people who conjure some stories that always make me wonder. One of them was the case of ‘top-up’. Sir K. a very industrious guy in the area just had a baby girl, that was his third child and third girl. People might see nothing wrong with that but three girls in a row, these guys saw it as failure on his part for not topping-up. The concept of topping-up is this, once a chic is pregnant and you want her to deliver a boy you have to keep sleeping with her, adding more sperm to the womb. You have to do this for three to six months into her pregnancy. The more sperm in her the higher the probability of giving birth to a male. My argument was once there was fertilization all other sperm were wasting their time but this guys were unfazed. They left it open for me to prove them wrong, but nah! I wasn’t ready to carry out any 9 months experiment. The discussion circled around pregnancy that day, also how to prevent a chic from getting pregnant after an unprotected sex. It was a mixture of Andrew’s liver salts and lime. I challenged that also and they all laughed at me like I was the one that made a frivolous claim. I asked the basis for such claim and I got the response “everyone knows”. I knew no matter what I said, it wouldn’t change their beliefs but then again who said mine was right. I told them what I knew; lime’s citrus juice was acidic which would support the claim that it could be used as a microbicide. An acidic environment kills sperms even HIV, but I doubted drinking it would prevent pregnancy instead it should be ‘applied’ to the vagina. Naturally vaginas are acidic because vaginas have to be constantly clean and to prevent some offensive odours (that in some women are still unpreventable). One thing about sperm is that it raises temporarily the pH level of the vaginal for it to survive (and also other pathogens). My conclusion was that I was only going to concur with them if they agreed that applying lime directly to the vagina would prevent pregnancy because that way the vagina would remain acidic regardless of the sperm, but these guys just laughed off what I said. I received a text on my phone, a chic I was expecting was in front of my house and I had to leave those guys who kept laughing at me.

I wasn’t surprised by their response, I wasn’t even bothered. Walking down my street I saw from a distance a chic I had been dropping some of my punch lines. Two weeks ago she had turned me down citing ‘incompatible differences’ as the reason she couldn’t go out with me. Like a good lawyer I argued my case and won and it was only time before I took full custody of her… and now she was standing in front of my house, few steps away from Stamford Bridge (my bedroom). I invited her in, told her I had to do some stuffs in my room and since I didn’t want to keep her waiting in the living room it was best she followed me. It all happened too fast that she didn’t have time to contemplate what I said. Seconds later she was in my room while I kept pacing as if looking for something important. Thirty minutes later we entered the “Stop it! Stop it” phase of having sex. For those endangered species of virgins out there, this was the phase where girls resist sexual advances by pushing you away, crossing her legs, and whispering “stop it”. Anyway, I knew what I had to do was to touch that one spot that would make her aaahhh! Ooooohhh! I did and I knew I had a five second lag time to get a condom and act fast; I was in a contemplation phase of having sex. This was the second phase of having sex where the guy had an opening and he had to decide fast if he should get a condom and risk the chick changing her mind or skin diving. The position of the condom mattered a lot and I had mine in my pocket. Don’t know how I did it but in record time, I zipped down, zipped up and…

Anyway, in record time I was also done. So the thing now was after the hormones were back to normal she walked out from the bathroom and said, “You came in me”. I resisted at first until I checked and… oh shit! This couldn’t be happening. When it happened I had no idea but I could see the rip. “I’m going to get pregnant” she said and that unsettled me. She educated me about safe period and all that and she was certain she was going to get pregnant. Out of nothing to say I said, “You can’t get pregnant”. (For those that read ‘3 Months’ this was the experience that inspired that scene). Her response shocked me, “Are you saying I’m barren and can’t get pregnant?” I was confused and she was panicking for us both. My head was going multiple calculations. Now I had to make a fast decision otherwise this chic was going to get pregnant. The lime issue came to my head and drinking lime along with Andrew’s liver salts sounded better than squeezing lime into her vagina. “You’ll have to take a drug” I said confidently. She replied questioning to know the drug I had in mind and I had no specific answer. I guessed there must be one. She accused me of being insensitive and a child that first I claimed she was barren and I wanted her to take any drug and destroy her womb. I was tempted to suggest lime but for some reasons I guessed she wouldn’t take it well. We made eye contact and I saw from her eyes she wished she could blame me for taking advantage but no one would believe that. She told me to wear my clothes and since I wanted her to take drugs she would follow me to buy them. I reminder her I didn’t have any in mind but she said I would have to ask. She was really looking sad and for once I thought I might be a father. We were outside a pharmacy when she told me she wasn’t going to follow me in and I understood. It felt shameful a girl walking into a pharmacy to buy a pregnancy prevention pill according to her. I was walking in when she called me back and said words I would never forget. “Ask for Postinol, the price is… Don’t let them cheat you.” I stopped for a second but my mind wondered for hours. First of all she hadn’t used her phone so I knew the name Postinol was from her head and she knew it was a pregnancy prevention pill. Secondly she knew the price so she must have bought it before. From her last statement about me being cheated implied she had bought it from at least a couple of places to know pharmacists were fond of hiking the prices. I thought about so many other things like why was she pretending and panicking when she knew what to use? Why was making me look like a fool? I walked into the pharmacy to hear it was out of stock due to popular demand. I told her the news and she replied she would get it in her area. I saw her off to the bus stop speechless. It was obvious this girl was a pro and I had just been schooled. My worry was no more from her getting pregnant but the kind after having unprotected sex with a … We truly had incompatible differences and I had to undo what had been done.

Lust; Love Lost 1

Growing up was fun and filled with lessons that can’t be taught within the walls of a classroom. A lot has to do with the matters of the heart; the battle between the bipolar love and lust. I define lust as love lost, misplaced, misguided. These bipolar emotions are constantly competing with each other. When you are in love, lust is there to tempt you out of that state and vice versa. I wouldn’t focus on lust for now but on what I have learnt love could do which was n=more dangerous than lust.

I had this friend; he was one of those people whose problem was not having any real problems. He was from a wealthy family and that should explain a lot. He didn’t see the reason not to enjoy life and was fond of making spontaneous decisions that were easily backed by his parents. I liked the guy (no homo), for one he was true to his feelings. I mean, we were young and there was no point for not expressing our youthfulness. And when you are young feelings are easily expressed. I enjoyed hanging out with him ‘cause he attracted girls to himself and that opportune me to meet some. Economists call that positive externalities. A day came that he was the one that got attracted to a girl. Fact, she wasn’t all that but what he felt couldn’t be placed in words. I called it lust while he argued it was love at first sight. This girl was defensive and did not make it easy for him, she saw him as a predator and I felt for my friend. The girl’s physical appearance couldn’t beat the ones my friend got on a daily not to talk about the ones I got. He played his part and with time she bought his sincerity. For the first time he was in a relationship and that was bad for me ‘cause no more loose chics hanging around. Economists call this negative externalities.

Six months later my guy was single again and it was obvious he was the one hurting. I should have told him love came with a warning, ‘handle with care’. He refused to talk about what happened and I didn’t care to make him talk, he was back. I had to push him fast into the single band wagon. His skills became rusty after months of expressing his feelings to one person. I introduced him to someone, someone I knew liked him, and someone I knew was his specs. The relationship blossomed and I felt happy this time.  Weeks later he gave me the news that she was pregnant and he wanted her to keep it. I didn’t expect it to go that far, ever. We were all young but trust him, there was no obstacle stopping him especially when he came to the conclusion to marry her. My surprised was expressed in congratulations. I knew there was no talking him out of it, we were both from different worlds and mine was the sane one. He seemed satisfied while she was happy and the question that crossed my mind was what could possibly go wrong?

Couple of weeks later he told me he was off to the London. I initially joked about it. He was going to get married after she delivered and I thought he was off to do some shopping or something. He narrated how he got the news that his ex who left him miserable was involved in an accident in London was in a coma. I didn’t see the reason it was any of his business, that relationship was dead and buried. There was no convincing him again especially when he told me the reason they broke up. He had proposed to her but she called everything off when they realised they were both sickle cell carriers AS. Two of her brothers that were full sickle cell carriers, SS, died during their teenage years and that really got to her. She wasn’t going to risk giving birth to one. My friend told me he didn’t care about what she said any more, “I don’t care if we never have kids. I can’t believe I stayed away from her for this long. Help me tell … it’s over.” I understood the love he had for her was as strong as ever. Believe me when I say that guy travelled that night turning me to a messenger of bad news. I checked on her that evening but I couldn’t tell her, she looked the happiest I had seen her and I felt bad. Not because I introduced them but because I didn’t feel anything. Maybe I felt a little bit unsettled because she was the second person I should have told when it came to love handle with care. We joked and shared laughs and I made sure she had more than enough. Deep inside me I knew that was the last time I intended to see her and I wanted to leave a happy lasting memory. Days later I heard she had gotten the news I failed to deliver and it wasn’t from me or him. I also heard months later she had a still born but that I never got to confirm and I wouldn’t blame her if that was true. After all we all heard he got married to his ex after she woke from her coma and the biggest surprise that had a son the following year.

Too Close for Comfort

“I never meant to say the things to make you cry, can I say I’m sorry

It’s hard to forget; yes I regret all these mistakes

I don’t know why you’re leaving me but I know you must have your reasons…

Was I invading in on your secrets? Was I too close for comfort? You’re pushing me out when I wanted in

What was I just about to discover? I got too close for comfort when driving you home

Guess I’ll never know

McFly, “Too Close for Comfort”

I often ask myself, how much was enough when it comes to knowing someone? Ever ask yourself when it was best to stop asking questions about someone’s past and start focusing on the here and now? The fact is everyone has a past and that is the only thing constant. Whatever story we have of ourselves is part of the cumulating encyclopaedia of our history. But let us be honest for a second, the past has a lot to do with who we are and how people treat us. If someone love/hate you, it depends on part of your past they know. Information about our past is too delicate and since we can’t bank secrets we bank on people close to us to keep them (and hope they do). The challenge in keeping them arises because people are interested in them especially the person we are in a relationship with (when they were not our ‘first’). People say in other to know where we are going it’s best to know where we are from. Do you believe that’s true for relationships cause I don’t. Like bank accounts I believe there must be minimum balance when it comes to information people should know about us especially ‘the one’. These are secrets or events rooted in our past and should be left to rot in our unconscious and forgotten with age. I never use to have such beliefs but things make people change.

I received an invitation card one day from one of my friends that was getting hitched. He was my senior in secondary school and I had not seen him in a long time but I received the card with smiles. He was getting married to… I was shocked when I saw the name. I’ll describe her using a line from a song by Fall Out Boy, ‘she was the last good thing that happened in my part of town’. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t downgrade girls for freely expressing their sexuality in different beds but she was a classic. I knew the kind of guy my friend was. He once dumped a girl for kissing another guy and now he was going to marry a… (I’m not going to use that word). I called one of my friends that evening who I knew had slept with her. Honestly, his response didn’t shock me, “how can she be getting married soon when she just left my room?” I took it upon myself to know how well the groom to be knew about her, I called him and he scheduled to meet me in his church, what the hell! It didn’t bother me. I saw his wife to be at the service and she looked like a whole different person, I later learnt she was an executive in church. I related with him and realised how ignorant he was, she had scammed him by portraying to be a church girl. He believed he was going to get married to a woman with a character worth emulating. I kept my mouth shut and didn’t attend the wedding. They say ignorant is bliss so I hope he had a blissful marriage.

I know I’ve been in a position where it would have been better if I didn’t know certain things, where I got too close for comfort and I should have sensed it. It all started when I knew who my girlfriend lost her virginity to. I had heard about the guy. He found enjoyment in preying on young girls’ naïveté. Whenever I asked questions ‘bout him she got defensive and such conversations usually ended in fights. I understood the guy might have exploited her but I wanted to make her understand I didn’t judge her but I was still curious to keep quiet. I needed to know how stuffs like how it started and ended, I mean, he was her first so the emotions at least from her part must have been strong. I had to give it to her, her behaviour didn’t show any sign she dated that kind of guy and whatever they shared seemed to be in the past. I made sure I got in touch with that guy. It was at a bar, I don’t drink much but I had friends who did. He was with his friends and since everyone had alcohol in common it was easy to relate. I played my part well and began to talk about girls and virginity. He talked last and his story had passion. He talked about a smallie he disvirgined and from his description it was my girlfriend. He talked about how much he loved the girl and how a single decision he made shattered their relationship and friendship. She got pregnant for him and he talked her into aborting it. She did but never felt the same about him; she perceived it as a sign that he didn’t love her that much. I didn’t care about his regrets but that my girlfriend once had an abortion. Our relationship was never the same with that in my head; I couldn’t get myself to confront her. I also couldn’t help but wonder what other information she was hiding. I realised that was one are that I have gotten to close for comfort and believe me, even I was uncomfortable. True I liked the girl but I thought about my friend who married a … and I asked myself, would it be better not knowing? My answer remains the same; I would rather be aware and unhappy than ignorant and blissful. Maybe it is a thing of pride but I wouldn’t like to walk hand in hand with the love of my life that has slept with every guy on my street not to even talk about aborting. When our relationship was in the breakup stage I asked her if there was any secret she would take to her grave and she replied, “none”.

Her Love, is Like NEPA

When you consider power generation in developing nations one issue open for discuss is the epileptic nature. So if I compare a girlfriend’s love to the National Electric Power Authority (NEPA) you should have an idea of what I mean, after all Nigerians know NEPA is undependable. There is this love/hate relationship between operations of NEPA and Nigerians. Using street lingua, NEPA can ‘take light’ for over a week and during this period curses are rained on the corporations as if it were a person. The moment NEPA ‘brings light’ there is excitement and jubilation everywhere with screams of ‘UP NEPA’. Even if NEPA brings light for two straight days, people become sceptic and await NEPA taking the light. The fear is based on the belief that if NEPA should give light for a ‘long period’ like 24 hours, then prepare for a really long period of black out. By the time NEPA take the light people resume raining curses.

I had a girlfriend that made me feel I was in a relationship with NEPA. She made me relate perfectly to Katy Perry’s ‘Hot n Cold’. Funny enough, I liked that (initially) and she liked that, so it was likely I couldn’t leave her and she was free to act anyway she liked. Like I said her love was like NEPA but it wasn’t always like that. She was funny, not as funny as I was but she made me laugh. When we were together nothing else mattered. Things began to change when something came up and she had to stay with friends I wasn’t cool with. It began with ‘I need to hang out with my friends’; after she started hanging out with her friends’ friends which by now had become her friends and I was no one’s friend. Seeing her became difficult but whenever I saw her I didn’t care if the past one week we only communicated on phone. I later realised talking on phone was even a luxury, it was as if she was avoiding me and when I least expected she would look for me and be all over me. Honestly, it felt good and made our ‘reunion’ something to look forward to. Anytime she did her ‘unprecedented seasonal migration’ I felt alone especially when she switched off her phone. It was like she had taken light I was blacked out.

Now, every Nigerian knows due to the epileptic nature of NEPA it was wise to have a generating plant in their homes. It made you feel prepared for a blackout, anytime. The generator came on whenever NEPA took the light. Call it cheating but I decided to have a ‘generator’. She was someone who admired me, didn’t know my girlfriend, and cherished my attention and she made it difficult for me to miss… who again? Oh! my girlfriend. Sure whenever my girlfriend was around I was happier but her disappearing act didn’t leave me with nothing to entertain myself. I wasn’t happy with all that was going down but I was satisfied. The downside with my girl by the side was like all generating set you had to take care of it; change oil, service and all that. I did that without complaining after all it was the cost of being satisfied. One day my girl by the side gave me a speech I once gave my girlfriend. It was about why I didn’t always have her time. Sure I had off days anytime my girlfriend was around. My understanding from what she said was although I saw her as my generator, she saw me as her NEPA and that was a whole new cycle because I saw her having a generator of her own. Damn! What can one do for an interrupted power supply? I decided to solve it the best way I could and the outcome was not what I expected. I’ll just say the engine of my generator knocked and my transformer blew (What happened is for another day). Why should I complain after all the cave men lived without electricity.

The Dress

All she ever wanted was something that was precious. Something that would make her fit in and accepted wherever she walked into. She wasn’t selfish but it felt right to have something people envied but most important of all, made her special. Her wish came true when she was given a dress that fitted perfectly. It was sparkling white and she loved it. It was so beautiful the best place she felt best to keep it was in her closet, away from prying eyes but she knew she would have to wear in one day. The perfect outing came and she wore it. She looked graceful in it as she counted her steps into the venue. It was impossible for her not to be spotted and everyone admired the dress (more than her) BUT she didn’t mind. She was sipping a glass of red wine when a drop fell out of the cup. Everywhere went silent as the red liquid made contact with her dress. It was an unfortunate moment that was noticed. Her response was to run out of the place in tears, sobbing uncontrollably. She needed to get the spot off immediately. She used her most powerful detergent to wash remove the stain and she did a good job. Still, she was unsatisfied. In her head she could see the stain. She carefully placed the dress back in her closet regretting she wore it in the first place. She shut her closet never to wear it again.

Months later another event came up and she had to wear the dress again, she couldn’t deny the fact that she loved and missed the attention she got the last time she wore it. She got there and indeed she turned heads but it wasn’t like the first time, still, she was having a great time. The party had more vibe and was energetic. While she was expressing her dance moves she accidentally bumped into a waiter who had a tray with cups of champagne. She got some of the liquid content on her dress. Everyone waited for her attention and responded with a sigh of relief when she laughed it off. She felt bad but she knew what she had to do to get the stains off when she got home.

After two washes she could see the stain and this time it wasn’t just in her head. It looked like a map of Islands but it wasn’t that obvious. She left the dress on her bed hoping the stain would miraculously disappear and make her feel better. Few days later she had to do her laundry and had to get to the supermarket to get detergent but had nothing clean and acceptable to wear. She decided to wear that dress; it would just be for few minutes. On her way back she got muddy water on her dress courtesy a driver that drove fast over a puddle. She could only watch as the guy drove pass without any intention of stopping. She found comfort knowing she was about to do her laundry anyway. She got home and washed the dress the same as any other items. It was then she realised the dress had lost its original glow but it was still beautiful. Since she had bad experiences anytime she wore it outside her home she decided to only wear in indoors.

She had it on one day and as she was in a rush to get to the front of the TV from the kitchen, the dress got stuck to the door handle and gave a little rip. She immediately got a needle with tread and stitched it. Although she did a good job, it made the dress look ugly and from them on she began to wear it casually. She was about to sleep one night and decided to treat herself to a cup of coffee. Her had tripped the cup and had the content all over her kitchen counter. She stretched her right hand for a napkin to clean it up. Few seconds later she realised it was the dress she had picked up to clean up the mess. She remembered she had dropped it carelessly in the kitchen earlier in the day. Her mind flashed back to when she first had the beautiful dress and how a stain began to reduce that quality. The stains were accidents but she knew if she had washed the dress immediately the second one occurred the outcome would have been different. After cleaning the coffee stains she saw the label on the dress for the first time, ‘Conscience’.

Somewhere In the Past

“She was covered in leather and gold, 21 years old

I lost her in the cold

It’s unfair, she’s out there…

Little Miss. Perfect sitting at the train stop,

Red Nike high top listening to hip-hop

While we were waiting, started conversating

Before I got her name along came a train…

She’s somewhere in Brooklyn…

I wonder will we ever meet again

I hope we do”

Bruno Mars, ‘Somewhere in Brooklyn’

Sure we’ve been in situations where we love or the least, fancy someone we met/saw once, never to see them again. Our minds play out the scenes of what life would have been with them but the most fulfilling part would be seeing them again (little bit frustrating though). I was having one of those uneventful days; those kinds of days that made you look forward to sleep. I decided to take a walk to waste the day and after half an hour walking up and down streets I saw her for the first time. A glance placed me in a trance and I knew she was “the one”. Seriously it was like I had found the meaning of life, the epitome of existence. She was two houses away from where I was, just standing by the road side and I began to walk towards her. I was going to use all my punch lines leaving her with no choice but to fall for me. I was barely six steps away when someone tapped my shoulder. I turned and saw ‘someone I knew (that was when he lost the title of ‘my friend’). He was about to start a conversation about a party when I cut him short; the girl I was going to meet was more important. I turned and didn’t see her standing there. I was shocked ‘cause she was out of my sight for five seconds at most and now she was gone. I ran to the spot she stood and did a 360 but still no sign of her. ‘The person I knew’ was looking at me sill standing where I left him, confused, I respond by giving him the middle finger. I was dead in my heart. I ran into the compound of the house she was standing in front of- hoping I would see her. I met a small boy about 2 years old, I asked him, “Did you see any girl?”, and the response he gave was true to his IQ, “A girl.” I slapped him (in my head) and circled the house before I began banging on doors. Occupants were eager to give me response because of my state. I was panting and sweating profusely and also I kept making up stories like “she dropped her phone and wanted to give it back to her” but they had no idea of who she was. I went to the next house, and the one after that without a trace. I knew she couldn’t have gone far and I didn’t want to admit that I had lost her. I cursed into the wind gradually facing reality. She was perfect, she was too good to be true and maybe she was, but no, I saw this one and her face would remain in my head for the rest of my life.

I was strolling miserably back to my house when I saw ‘the person I knew’. He was asking questions to get words out of my mouth but my attention span was at the lowest. “So you mean you are not coming for the party, lots of girls would be there?” I had a gleam of hope. The venue was about five houses from where I saw the girl and there was possibility of her being there. “Let’s go there,” I said with a smile. It made sense to me, the girl motive for coming to my area must have been the party ‘cause I was sure of one thing, it wasn’t everyday you saw beautiful girls in my area. ‘The person I knew’ tried to boost my interest by filling me with stories about some wild girls from a private university and how they were the life of the party. Then I asked, “Have you been there?” “No,” he replied. I wasn’t surprised he talked confidently about a party he hadn’t been to, guys are fond of doing that. We got there to hear a name on every guy’s lips, ‘Susan’. Apparently Susan had taken the party to an x-rated level. She was wasted and had taken the responsibility of sexually gratifying guys at the party. I wouldn’t deny that for some unknown reasons I didn’t think that might be the girl I saw earlier, and so I became curious to see Susan. Hearsay and whispers led me to the bathroom where I heard she was. I waited by a corner hoping she would walk out any time soon. Five minutes passed which by the way seemed like an hour and I grew impatient. I walked to the door of the bathroom, checked my rear before opening the door to walk in fast enough not to be spotted. I didn’t want to be seen as an opportunist. I gave a huge sigh of relief as I saw her, she wasn’t the one. Susan was on the bathroom floor, barely conscious. I heard her mutter something so I moved closer, “I won’t forgive you Lola,” was what she said. “Are you OK?” I asked ignorantly. To be honest I knew she wasn’t. She was in a position where anyone could take advantage of her and my guess was confirmed when she added. “She drugged me”. I knew this wasn’t my battle and this was her mother, father, of boyfriend’s problem.

I hadn’t seen the person I hoped to and I wasn’t interested in the party and decided to leave. The party was alright but it as one too many. The same people, alcohol, songs, and dance moves. I was about stepping out when I spotted her and a smile appeared on my face, she was with three other girls getting into a cab. I wasn’t going to lose her this time. I ran to stand in front of the car to get their attention before I walked to the side to open the door to the backseat where she sat. “I love you,” I said and the girls began to laugh. I became specific and pointed at her. “Yes, you. I can’t just let you go like that.” Her friends couldn’t control themselves as they laughed, even the driver joined in the humour. “I’m sorry but I don’t know you,” she said smiling. “I know but I know you, not exactly, but… the thing is I just saw you and you are the most beautiful being I have ever seen in my life.” Her friends began to scream in excitement, all part of girlish youthful exuberance. I told her my name and she gave me hers, Lola. “What!” I exclaimed. “Do you by any chance know Susan?” I had to ask to clear all doubts about what popped in my head. Her response shocked me more, “Don’t mind that bitch, I’m sure I gave her what she deserved.” Her friends nodded in agreement. My shock turned into confusion, “What did she do to you to be heartless enough to drug her?” Her friends’ reaction showed they weren’t aware of that piece of information. “How did you know?” Lola asked. One of her friends continued the conversation which by now had turned to an interrogation. “Lola how could you do this? No wonder Susan was acting all skanky, I thought the hot slap you gave her was all you did. You actually went ahead despite what we talked about.” The mood changed and they all alighted from the car. My eyes were still on her- an eclipse had formed over the sunshine I once saw in the girl. She wasn’t waived by what her friends were saying instead she was justifying what she did.

I stood aside, spectating, with the crowd that had formed as her friends rained on her with curses and occasional slaps while she attempted to make them see reason with what she did. Apparently the girls all attended the same tertiary institution. Lola had accused Susan of sleeping with her boyfriend back in school and decided to take her revenge by drugging her while instigating guys to sleep with her at the party. She went further by convincing the other girls to leave the party without her due to the disgrace she had brought to their clique. She had told her friends about her plan back in school but they believed they talked her out of it. The more they argued at the top of their lungs secrets were revealed carelessly and Lola was the victim. From what I heard, I rationalized that her girl losing her virginity at the age of thirteen had to be reason for being the way she was. Still, it was the most callous thing I believe a girl could do and in my head I blamed her ‘friends’ (had to put it in quote). I questioned why girls couldn’t adopt the ‘leave no man behind’ mentality guys had and if there was any disagreement, trash it behind closed doors.

I walked home deep in thought. Would it have made me feel better if I didn’t know the person I felt positive about would be the same person that would make me feel hate still exist in this world? I couldn’t answer if the pain of knowing was any good or still being ignorant. Maybe that was what most people risk not knowing when they never see someone they have this sudden rush of affection for never to see again. Would James Blunt have penned down a beautiful song like ‘You are Beautiful’ if he knew the girl for more than a glance? Sure these things we will never know but I was unfortunately opportune to. To be honest with you, every day I still look out for Lola. The Lola that stood two houses away, the same Lola that was few steps away, the one I knew nothing about except from her beauty and grace. I guess you guys are lucky cause you might still find ‘the one’ somewhere else but mine is somewhere in the past and how can I get there?