Mosque no get Choir: What Will Jesus do?

I had this friend who told me he admired the way I perceived issues especially the way I reacted to them. There was no doubt he regarded me as being intelligent and was fond of asking me questions about various life issues,ready to be amused, yet enlightened by my responses. One day he asked me what I thought was the difference between the Church and the Mosque. I was sure he was expecting a response that was bound to end up in an intellectual conversation and I was sure I disappointed him. I told him, “Mosque no get choir” he just starred and walked away [my answer wasn't wrong]. Don’t get me wrong. I take religion seriously and wouldn’t joke with it. The fact was at that point and the level of knowledge I had that was the only difference I could see.

Growing up in this modern world takes a lot of self-control to be a true follower. The way I saw religion was like a product that had been beautifully packaged but no matter how packaged the product was there were some information you expect to see; manufactured and expired date, ingredients, direction of use, and nutritional facts. I saw religion lacking in some of these information [hope you understood] or should I say too ambiguous. That was why two pastors would interpret a bible passage in two different ways. In my defence youthful years were the period of rationalisation. If you give a bible to a youth he would interpret it in such a way that it would not create much dissonance between his attitude and behaviour. A friend suggested a solution that would help me, he said that whenever I was in a tight corner I should ask myself, “What will Jesus do?”

The problem was as a youth I had no idea what Jesus would do in most of the situations I found myself. Don’t get me wrong I knew what was ‘good’ to do but what would Jesus had done. I knew what to do if someone was destroying the house of God because I knew what Jesus did, it's in the bible. But what about the time I had an erection in class in secondary school for doing nothing except being alive or the time I had the first wet dream which was the best sex stimulation, or the time a naked girl was in my bed and said "You, will fuck me today today!". The fact was when you consider how much youth rationalise plus how ignorant we are of what Jesus would do in particular situations the resulting behaviour was outrageous to say the least. I had also noticed from experience than even those that claimed to be religious do not know and fall into my category of 'ignorant what will Jesus do'. Christians of nowadays do not "walk through the valley of shadow of death", the preferred to erect a bridge and cross over it and by that I meant avoiding 'sinful' situations. Not to digress, the question was what will Jesus do and I have an experience to share.

I was chilling with Des (you might remember her from ‘[Any] or Nothing’) at the Lagoon front in the University of Lagos. We had been there for hours talking about everything with little importance when we were approached by a young man. He smiled. He was probably in his late twenties but in school that didn’t mattered. We kept quiet for this man to pass his message and walk away. He began by letting us know he was a post graduate student and the déjà vu he kept experiencing every time he walked on campus. He looked at me, “I was once like you. Is this your girlfriend?” I replied, “No.” What he asked was none of his concern. He laughed. “I was sitting way over there and I noticed your hands have been caressing her laps since, don’t be offended I am assuming we are all adults here.” Des [ignorant] as usual couldn’t help but laugh. She had been teasing me earlier about touching her would only get me hard-on and nothing more. “Don’t mind him.” She said. I knew her response would only give this man the audacity to keep talking and ignore the fact that no guy goes to a romantic place with a girl just to look into her eyes, he was spoiling my mojo. He smiled again and that one annoyed me. He talked about his life in the tertiary institution where he got his first degree and made a remarkable statement which I doubt I’ll ever forget. “I remember when I was in the university and all my friends were having sex, I didn’t understand what would make a man commit such an act against God. It is a deadly sin and I wanted a way to communicate to my friends the spiritual implications but first I needed to know what they enjoyed in it. So I got on my knees that God should guide me as I walk into this valley, and guide me safely out of it so I should have the knowledge to talk my friends out of it too.” You should know me by now, always curious. The statement he made was ambiguous and I needed clarification. “What valley?” I asked and he answered. “I started having sex because I wanted to know what my friends enjoyed in it in order to tell me friends to stop.” I was sure he felt stupid after he uttered that but I had to give him kudos for his art of communication, the way he said what he did trying to make it sound selfless. What I heard was, “I asked God for permission to start nacking.” I couldn’t think of any other way to say it and still be totally honest. I remember silently I said, “This guy get mind,” and Des heard and she responded by laughing. He turned his attention to me. “Let me tell you something, having sex is nothing. I had sex like every day, girls were begging me. I would have one in my bed while another would be knocking on my door…” While he was talking I was amazed, it was either this guy was lying or he was gifted. Was he blessed with the talent of nacking because of his 'spiritual' purpose. The point was he was attempting to show us he had changed and there was nothing to it. The guy had already burnt my cable for the day and I decided to go home besides it was getting late. I told Des we should leave but she didn’t want to, she was apparently enjoying this guy’s gist.

As I walked home that day what occupied my mind was what I said earlier. What would Jesus have done if his disciples were having indiscriminate sex and he wanted them to stop? Some Christians might say ‘pray’ but like I said youths rationalise. This guy did pray and told God he wanted to start having sex and should be guided, definitely Jesus would have prayed. To me what he did was bullshit. I didn't even get to ask if he succeeded converting friends. I wonder what he would have said, "Guys, you know I have nacked platinum and stopped, you too can do the same..."

I got home late that day after meaningless wandering and called Des, I noticed her tone wasn’t friendly at all and I made her tell me where she was. She replied it was too late for her to go home and decided to spend the night in that guy’s room. I just hoped he didn’t pray to know why I wanted to nack her.

Elements of the Best Pick-up line: Creativity

I know a lot of people who believe in primacy effect when it came to creating a lasting impression. These are people who believe the first impression mattered a lot and when it came to picking up girls, it was also the same. The perception of yourself that you leave was important, if not all that mattered, from the initial encounter. One of the obstacles was that you do not know when you were going to meet that one person so like the Boys Scout you have to be always prepared. Truth is we can’t always be ad there are times we just have to be ourselves which isn’t always the best. Personally, I will not claim I’m good at chatting up girls but what I’m good at is creating a lasting impression. Since Omotola Jalade believed she could sing I figured out I might as well be an authority in this art of chatting up girls. Then again, being turned down several times (and [Any]) put me in a position to know how not to pick up girls.

Lecturers of the University of Lagos had been on strike for over 3 months and during that period students including me had to stay at home doing nothing productive. Yes some lost their virginity others got pregnant (that’s for another day) but I did nothing just waking, eating, and sleeping. I made a mistake of having a long distance relationship so no… Anyway the strike was called off but students were reluctant to move back into campus and so for the first few days those of us on campus were bored stiff. I realised not only had I forgotten what I was supposed to have learnt that semester but also I had completely lost touch on how to chat up girls. I wasn’t a don before so imagine, I was now worse. The fact was few people in school then was bored and I couldn’t even chat up a bored chic. I preferred to stay in my room and play Need for Speed.

I walked my friend to a cyber cafe one afternoon where I just sat shifting my gaze from the four corners of the room before a girl walked in, She sat opposite us and I guessed she noticed my eyes were on her. She wasn’t that beautiful or anything but she had a unique look. She caught me staring and smiled. That was my cue, I should have jumped right in and start a conversation but I was too slow. In short, I had no idea what to do. My friend was oblivious of what was going on and for the next 45 minutes or so that was how it was. I couldn’t muster the confidence to say one word. I left the cafe with my friend feeling fucked within. I told my friend what transpired while he was busy on his system and he laughed, not because I didn’t talk to the girl but he thought I was joking about being unable to talk to her. The guy had always believed I was this mack and I didn’t blame him, it wasn’t everyday you see a twenty-tree years old male virgin. He told me he wanted to have a good look at the girl so we walked back while I stood outside shamefully as he stepped in. He walked out after his assessment and burst into laughter, he was truly convinced I was pretending about not being able to talk to her. Standing there I saw it as my second chance to get to talk to this not so beautiful girl but with a unique look. I knew I had to do something so I went back in time for inspiration, old school style.

I asked him for a sheet of paper and a pen, I needed to write a love letter. This guy still thought I was joking and what I was doing was one Casanova manoeuvre. He had paper but no pen. I walked into the cafe and gestured I needed a pen and she pointed to one close to her system. I thought about what to write, ‘roses are red, violets are blue…’ but I guessed that wouldn’t work. I decided to use the one thing I had passion for, music. I wrote “My life is brilliant, my love is pure. I have seen an angel of that I’m sure and I wouldn’t want to leave here singing James Blunt’s ‘You are Beautiful’ in my head for not getting to know your name. So what is your name? This is my number…” I gave her the note which she responded with a smile and I walked out. My guy kept laughing and asked me what I wrote and before I could fill him in a text came in on my phone. “You should have asked. My name is…” And that was it, I could sense the real me coming back. I walked backed into the cafe and we spent the rest of the day together. She was interesting but she wasn’t my type. I never saw her again after that week and didn’t bother to call and neither did she, her number must have gone missing on my phonebook. One thing I am sure of is that she would remember me whenever she heard James Blunt, especially “You are Beautiful”.

The Morning-after (pt. 2 of Postinor)

I hate tests, as much as my performance back in school stated otherwise that remained my stand. You prepare for a set of questions that the examiner does not expect you to get a perfect score. The sad part is that a test doesn’t end the moment you turn in your paper, you had to wait for the result. The result was dichotomous, pass or fail. I was preparing for one more test which might as well be the most difficult I would sit for. The venue was a Heart to Heart centre, and either it was good or bad, the result would be ready in fifteen minutes. It was an HIV test. The not so funny part was if I was told twenty-four hours ago I would be taking the test, I would have argued till my last breath. I wasn’t reckless but within the last twenty-four hours I was involved in a sexual encounter that ended with a torn rubber. I know there are guys that wouldn’t be bothered. I know of a guy that got drunk and had sex with a prostitute. He woke up the next morning to realise the condom he thought he used was still intact in his pocket. I sure know he didn’t have the balls to go for an HIV test cause he kept rationalising to play the event down. I was different, I knew I had a bright future and wouldn’t want the past to kill what was yet to come (does that make sense). Maybe I was getting over my head but the chic I was with made me feel I was with a po-po. I concluded that a girl that knew so much about postinol and had used it several times might not be the right person to have unprotected sex with.

I sat there while I was being counselled but all they said, to me, was preamble. Even an elementary school student knew the ABC of HIV. Finally, my blood sample was going to be taken. The HIV test kit looked like a pregnancy test kit, all it needed was a drop of your blood and you wait, for fifteen minutes that would feel like hours. If two parallel lines appeared then the blood was free of the virus. I sat there impatiently, after the first five minutes nothing appeared, ten minutes later no parallel lines. Twelve minutes later, still no parallel lines. The nurse noticed I was sweating profusely and walked me to the waiting room away from the kit. Maybe I wouldn’t have panicked that much but earlier at the centre I saw an AIDS patient for the first time. She looked liked death. She walked in to pick up her drugs. As she stepped out the nurse around began a conversation about her with someone who came for the test like I did. She was a mother of three and got infected through her husband who had been promiscuous. She went for the test when she began to fall sick and detected she was positive. She talked to her husband and suggested he take the test because his health was also failing. He kicked her out of their matrimonial home for being infected that day and kicked the bucket months later due to AIDS opportunistic infections. I didn’t want to look like that; you wouldn’t understand what I am talking about until you see a full blown AIDS patient. The path my future would take depended on two parallel lines. I looked at where the kit was, I couldn’t get myself to run there and see what the result was. It was two minutes past the required time, I couldn’t even remind the nurse to check it. Finally, she walked towards it. I tried to read her facial expression from a distance but nothing. I couldn’t envisage what she was seeing. She walked with it into an office, five minutes later I was called in. It was a new face, and the only thing I remembered from that encounter was a smile. She gave me another preamble but by then my head was screaming with joy. Being negative had never been so positive. Then she dropped the punch line. She asked to know when was my last unprotected sexual encounter, her smile dropped when I answered. I had to come in six months time because that was how long it took for the virus to be detected. The mood changed drastically like a movie with horrible continuity. I knew within myself I couldn’t stand sitting for six months to know my status after what I had experienced within half an hour. She gave me an easy way out, get the girl tested.

Talking to a girl to know her HIV status sounded easy at first, for one it sounded selfless. Hey, I wasn’t doing it for me because whatever the result was, it was yours and it was best you knew. I called the chic to see her the next day because I needed to know her status fast. The meeting was at her place and after what had happened I was in no position to invite her to Stamford Bridge (my bedroom). We were speechless at first and that made it worse for me to communicate my intention. I dipped my hands in my pocket and showed her my result. “Why are you showing me?” she asked. I acted surprised and claimed I had the test for her sake so she wouldn’t worry about me being, you know… “I didn’t think you were before.” That made it worse for me for two reasons. First it because obvious she used face value to determine if an individual was HIV positive or not (she obviously didn’t believe AIDS no dey show for face). Secondly, from her position I sensed she wouldn’t take it well suggesting she get tested. She handed the result back to me then we remained speechless for a while. I remembered what I experienced when I got tested, I broke the silence, “you have to get tested”. She gave this sarcastic smile women give that sensed trouble. “I knew you were going to say that, after pouring in me you just want to sort yourself out and leave. What about me that has to wait in worry for fifteen days for my period before I know if I’m pregnant? Men are indeed selfish.” The angle she tackled me from was way below the belt but had truth in it. If I knew her status I wouldn’t worry as much as I did. Might sound bad but pregnancy especially in the early stage is ‘reversible’ but being positive wasn’t. The girl was adamant.

When I was young and I didn’t want to take my pills my mother was fond of carefully placing them in the meals I found delicious, hoping I would swallow it unknowingly. It usually worked and I decided to use the same technique for this babe. I was going to use the most expensive bait that got most girls hooked, marriage, but I had to be careful and package it well. I got everything mapped out and it would only take days. I took it upon myself to call the chic constantly and schedule meetings where we had long discussions about… truth is I can’t remember. I began making references about how she was going to be a great mother in case she got pregnant. At that point joking about it became easy. I also talked about qualities I claimed to see in her that made her the kind of girl I would love to spend the rest of my life with. Finally her period came and I knew I wasn’t going to be a father anytime soon. That was what I had hoped for and it was my cue to get to the next step. I began to use the word love and for some reasons she bought it and we began dating officially. I told her about one of my friends that left the love of his life because they were both AS and they were at a high risk of giving birth to a sickle cell child if they eventually got married. I happen to be AA but she didn’t know and I wasn’t going to tell her. She told me she was O and I almost said Olodo. I had to explain that was her blood group and not genotype. I decided to play on her ignorance. I talked about the 21st chromosome that caused Down’s syndrome and every birth defect I could think of and linked it to the causes to incompatibility of both parents genetic makeup. I added a clause, if detected early everything could be prevented if someone knew their ‘chromosomal status’. I saw it in her eyes that she was nervous and wanted to know hers. That was when I played my card. I told her it could be detected in the blood with a single kit. She was eager to get tested and I told her I would assist her in getting it. I got an HIV home testing kit from a pharmacy and all I had to do was package it by unpacking it. All I showed her was the kit and a computer print-out which I claimed I had gotten from the net. My excuse was a nurse from the general hospital had stolen it for me from storage and that was why it was like that. I dribbled with stories which might have been inconsistent but who cared. I told her the most important part was two parallel lines meant her chromosomal status was OK. She believed it all and all I had to do was coordinate myself while we waited for fifteen minutes later two parallel lines to appear or not, “Wow, there’s no…” I said before she interrupted. “I hope now you are satisfied to know I’m HIV negative, now get out of my house and I don’t want to see you again”. I didn’t know if I should feel stupid or relieved but that was the second time I had gotten played by this girl. If she knew it was an HIV test kit why did she keep mum? My mind began to think too deep, I mean, if she knew it was an HIV testing kit then she must have gotten tested before but that didn’t matter because she was negative, It was my nature to be curious and I needed to find out why she acted ignorant in the first place. I talked to one of her friends and she gave me an interesting insight. The babe was very intelligent socially and was fond of playing ignorant to either get away from situations or illicit information. She also used it to know a person that was most likely to take advantage of her. I thought about it and remember the past president, Obasanjo, as much as people down played his intelligence he got away with so many things that were politically calculated.

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”.