Sunday, April 15, 2012

Stick It UP The Ass

"Direction: 1 suppository in a single daily dose. Peel open plastic. Insert suppository well into rectum, pointed end first. Retain about 15 to 20 minutes"


That was what I read and it got ideas goind through my head. What stuck was "insert well into rectum, pointed end first. Retain for about 15 to 20 minutes". My definition of 'rectum' was 'ass hole', so you get the direction of my thought. I asked myself why would any one want to stick something into their ass especailly a guy.


I read that on a paper in a friend's bathroom. I doubt I would have bothered if it were a chic but not a guy. I mean, chics' sex organs were designed to stick anything with shape and occupied shape up their ass. What was he sticking up his ass? The thing I thought of was he probably was turning gay. I don't know why that came to my mind, it just did. I rationalised homosexuals probably used whatever it was to clear the ass hole for "15 to 20 minutes" before the do whatever gays did for sexual gratification.


I saw the stuff, it was shaped like the penis of a year old boy in the wrapper. At that point I was convinced he definitely was turning gay. I saw him as I stepped out of the bathroom, confused on how to react. All I did was keep my distance.


Within the hour I opened his freezer to get a drink and saw it again, the penis looking drug. I had to say something to him. I knew guys hid condoms at odd corners in the room but not in a freezer, probably it was a gay thing.


The guy laughed as I told him what had been going on in my mind. He made me understand it was a drug that relieved constipation. All the individual had to do was stick it up the ass. He froze his for easy entry.


I was like damn! Why the sexually graphic nature of drug administration. I had difficulty swallowing drugs not to mention sticking up my ass. I had to read about Dulcolax suppository to make sure I wasn't being told fairy tales. You know, with guys these days you can't be too sure. Not only babes did anything for cash. He was right though and I did learn something that day. I ended up giving my penis a new title: Orgasmic Suppository.

Saturday, April 14, 2012

Call It Off


"I won't regret saying this, this thing I'm saying. Is it better than keeping my mouth shut that goes without saying". I spent this week with a particular song playing on my ipod [& my head]. It wa's "Call It Off" by Tegan and Sara, a track I first heard years go. For some [disturbing] reasons I was able to relate perfectly with the lyrics this week. It got to a point I began to watch the video impression on Youtube till I decided to download it.

For those who haven't heard it, well, the song talked about a relationship you end and still find yourself questioning if you did the right thing. "Maybe I would have been something you'd be good at, Maybe you would have been something I'd be good at. But now we'll never know". The song was based on the experience of one of the singers who found herself in such position and ended up checking the ex out online watching how she had moved on. And began to "wonder if it was the thing to do."


Back to me, I'll admit I check out my exs online despite not being on talking terms and being the one initiating the break up most times. I feel my sudden familiarity with this song as a sign it was getting to me. most of 'em had moved on, few were married and I was still...still Ade. "I won't be sad but incase I go there everyday, to make myself feel  bad, there's a chance I'll start to wonder if this was the thing to do."

Friday, April 13, 2012

By Their Bus stops Ye Shall Know Them


"Dress the way you want to be addressed", I'm sure the saying is familiar to most people. Early in the morning, I see people sharply dressed in suits and polished shoes. From the way they were dressed you would think they were the MD/CEO of one multi-billion dollars institution. I on the other hand wore whatever was the fastest to get into [I get tired like that sometimes in the morning]. You would probably assume I was the ‘boy-boy’ to a low level ranked staff in an organisation in which the name ended with ‘...ventures’ or ‘...and Sons’. Every morning we all leave our homes to meet at the bus stop. 

Our meeting at the bus stop was the first sign our outfit was part of ‘packaging’ to boost the perception of our status. People I saw every day at the bus stop were more likely not to own a car. If you don’t own a car there was a possibility it was because you couldn’t afford one. If you can’t afford one then you were broke.
 
On busy days with populated bus stops, even those suited with sparking whites underneath had to rush to board buses. Ladies in high heels do the same. For that moment the danfo slows down everyone had to be in their Usain Bolt’s fram of mind. You had to rush, push, shove, to occupy a bus that wouldn’t meet any safety standard in the developed countries. Everything about commercial buses screamed POVERTY. But that isn’t where I’m heading. As we occupy the bus the first thing we did was to adjust what we wore to regain that millionaire look we had as we stepped out of our homes. As the bus moved along its route each of us would alight at our bus stop and from their bus stop ye shall know them. Yes! From the bus stop we shall know who is who. No matter how you dress, your last bus stop to work can’t be Bariga market and expect me to believe you were one top shot. There were some things we that lived all our lives in Lagos know.

For example, majority of those who wear suits to work were bankers. Two, if you are leaving for work around 8am then you were not a banker. How come some people wear suits to work and leave home past 8 o’clock? I noticed a guy suited up and his last bus stop was Unity Road in Ikeja, that was a giveaway you were simply dressed to impress and not the address of your work place [or pay check].

There was a guy in my area who wore nice fitted suit to work...his dress sense made so much sense, it was impossible to guess where he worked. I use to think he was a banker until he began going to work wearing a bow tie. The only guy I knew who wore bow tie to work was the Central Bank Governor, Sanusi Sanusi. Unfortunately/fortunately we boarded the same bus one day and from his bus stop I knew he was a teacher. I was amazed, a school teaching decking up like George Clooney in tux.

I understand why people might want to do that. They might not have control over their pay check [or job] but they could at least dress the way they want to be addressed. Like the guy in the picture below. I wrote about him once [Beggar With A Swag]. The guy depended on alms for a living and still wore stylist suits.
I hope people can understand if they saw me wearing only boxers to work and I drop at Obalende bus stop that I might be the next William H.


Thursday, April 12, 2012

The [D] Project: Pot Calling Kettle Black (pt. 7 of 13)


Once upon a time in 2011, I allowed a girl live with me in my room for what was supposed to be a few days. The plan was she crashed with me till she got her own apartment. Her name was [D], a chic that looked like sex from the south-south. Although things ended up like... I look back at that period to realise I learnt a lot. That period is known as The-[D]-Project.
I thought about the names [D]’s father called her and ALL had to do with promiscuity. I knew this girl looked like sex but she acted/talked otherwise. That made me question the reason the father would label his daughter, was there smoke without fire?. For one, [D] was fast to criticise girls who supposedly gave their bodies cheaply to men. She talked about how she would have owned cars and houses if she wanted to f*ck for money. I definitely won't doubt that she would have lots of customers, after all, I’ve seen men spend to fuck less attractive females. I got fed up with the way she kept praising herself, as if she was the only exception especially as I began to notice her actions were contradicting her words. Remember the first lesson: You Can Only Lie With Words.

[D] loved good things she couldn't afford. As much as she might claim humble, she loved the authentic T.M. Lewin shirt a relative got her. She loved my cash free lifestyle which she knew could get her a free breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Despite all these she continued to criticise girls.

[D] attached herself to a girl living on my street. The type of girl she was used to criticising. The girl had a guy visit her once, as they sat in his car [D] walked passed. The guy told the girl he liked [D] and would like to talk to her. The girl arranged that, minutes later [D] occupied the passenger seat in his car. Less than 2 minutes later the ‘meeting’ was over and the guy drove off. He called the girl after to complain of [D]’s attitude. [D] told him point blank that she was hungry and if he wanted to have a discussion he should drive her to a fast food joint for lunch. She also mentioned fixing her hair and a whole lot of bullshit that would make a correct Lagos boy drive a chic out of his car.

I considered all this and I believed [D] described her ideal self and not her real self. I made her know ALL girls were the same. It was the ones we were fortunate to know about their sex life/promiscuity we called "slut". She denied (as expected) and said she was different. “A girl with only one boyfriend cannot be promiscuous,” she said. “If a girl had a boyfriend, it was only time before she had sex with him”. According to her logic, a girl with 20 boyfriends would have slept with 20 guys and that made her a slut.
I rationalised that going into a relationship was like writing a test. You prepare for it and hope you pass. If you fail, you learn from the mistakes of the previous one and apply it on the next one. No one knows what can make a relationship work for all situations.

[D] ‘enlightened’ me with one of her philosophy on how to make a relationship work. Her philosophy suggested unprotected sex was the solution [sic]. She said girls sleep around because they do not enjoy sex with their boyfriends. The reason they do not enjoy it was because they use condom during sex BUT they don’t know it was the condom that reduced satisfaction. They think they didn’t enjoy it because the guy couldn’t perform and now look for another guy that hopefully could perform better. That was the cause of promiscuity. They get another guy and decide to use condom because they wanted safe sex not knowing they won’t enjoy the experience. The cycle continues. If the girl decide to stick to a guy she wouldn’t need to use condoms with, not only would she enjoy sex but the relationship as well.

You know me nau...I had to ask if that was true in her case. She said she didn't use condoms with Francis and that was why they enjoyed sex and there was no reason for her go to another man for sex. I was like, "Wow! I'm surprised you haven't gotten pregnant. Considering you guys have been having unprotected sex for years". I noticed she had a look in her eyes after I said that. A look that made me say, "So...you have gotten pregnant."

She admitted she got pregnant [just] once and had to abort it. She claimed she wanted to have the baby with the love of her life BUT her parents were against it especially her Mum. Her Mum was the first person she told of the pregnancy who told her dad and the devil had a short vacation on earth. I considered the names she said her father called her and had an idea where ‘promiscuous’ originated. If her father was right about other things he said, there was a lot this chic wasn’t saying.

What pissed me off was she tried to make it sound like she did the righteous thing. Like abortion was the only option she had. I had to clear her, "You never listened to your parents, pastor, and friends when they told you not to date this guy. It was you and Francis against the world. Why was it this one time when they told you what you wanted to hear you decided to go along?”

She replied it would have affected her education because it happened while she was still in the university but insisted it was her Mum that forced her to. Her mum introduced her to the abortionist. I use to believe mothers took their daughters to the markets and salons but not to have an abortion.

There was nothing I said about the abortion that made sense to this babe. She was convinced the situation was out of her hands at that time and did the right thing. I regarded this babe as one of those ‘pot calling kettle black’ kind of chic. She insult girls for being promiscuous but those girls never aborted, even those that did admitted it was wrong. I am no angel but having unprotected sex with a boyfriend you knew was a perpetual cheat was plain stupid, to the point of getting pregnant for the broke guy. [D] was the worst type of individual, the ones that could justify any act [good/bad] and never did anything wrong

Part 11: REALLY, Time To Go 
Part 12: You Can't Please Anyone

Wednesday, April 11, 2012

The [D] Project: Our Skin, Our History (pt. 6 of 13)



Once upon a time in 2011, I allowed a girl live with me in my room for what was supposed to be a few days. The plan was she crashed with me till she got her own apartment. Her name was [D], a chic that looked like sex from the south-south. Although things ended up like... I look back at that period to realise I learnt a lot. That period is known as The-[D]-Project and these were the lessons I learnt.

 Lesson 3: Our Skin is Our History

[D] knew she was sexy and nobody could make her feel otherwise. She was used to striking seductive poses and requesting I take pictures. Bum shorts shots and other booby pictures. She believed she would look great in them. As much as she would claim she could be the next Miss. Universe, she believed she didn’t have a great skin. Her skin had her past all over it and her past wasn’t pretty.

[D] was in an abusive relationship with her boyfriend she found impossible to walk out of. It felt like she was comfortable with him beating her up to the point of leaving scars behind. The physical scars were inflicted with fists, boots, and any other object that could cause harm. The emotional scars were inflicted with the words he voiced with bitterness about how useless she was as his fist landed. She could have walked away and gain the support of friends and relatives for that decision but she did not. It wasn’t a secret she was a punching bag. Obviously they all weren’t cool with it especially her father.

[D] hardly mentioned her father and the silence said it all, they weren’t cool with each other. It took time but she made me know the environment she grew up in. [D] grew up in a large family that appeared like the father didn’t know what a condom was. It wasn’t polygamous, just lots of kids especially females.  The relationship with the dad was a healthy one until an unfortunate event. [D] grew up having one of her male cousins as her best friend during their late childhood period. Like best friends they did most things together so it wasn’t a surprise they decided to have a swim in a river. The guy drowned and it was unsurprising the blame was put on [D]. Maybe that was the cause of her father’s hostility towards her, the fact remained that was the moment of his attitude change. His first attack was suggesting she was ‘possessed’.

As she reached puberty he began to label her ‘prostitute’ and attempted to make her unattractive. He would cut her hair and made sure her clothes weren’t fitted. All he could do was try but her assets couldn’t be hidden. A guy was bold enough to visit her at home once, he escaped the father’s wrath but she didn’t. He stripped her naked on the streets, rubbed pepper on her skin and flogged the hell out of her. There were times she did respond with an attack but it only made their broken relationship worse.

She got relieved from her father’s oppressive and abusive nature when she got admission into the university in another state. He deprived her of allowances but not the satisfaction of being far away from him. That was the way he could punish her at that age considering she could defend herself and once threatened to redesign his car with a knife.

I put all those into consideration and the experiences she had with her father was bound to leave emotional scars. What Francis, her [ex] boyfriend, did to her might be nothing compared to what the father she experienced in the hands of her father. Perhaps that was the way she defined love/acceptance from manly figures.

Thursday, April 5, 2012

The [D] Project: Some People Don't Want To Be Happy (pt. 5 of 13)


Once upon a time in 2011, I allowed a girl live with me in my room for what was supposed to be a few days. The plan was she crashed with me till she got her own apartment. Her name was [D], a chic that looked like sex from the south-south. Although things ended up like... I look back at that period to realise I learnt a lot. That period is known as The-[D]-Project and these were the lessons I learnt.


Lesson 2: Some People Do Not Want To Be Happy

[D] appeared to have a high moral standard. She always found something negative to say about girls/women that sold themselves cheap to guys. She found that act common with ‘Lagos girls’ and that was one of the reasons she felt uncomfortable with 'em. It was on such issues she made herself a point of reference, “despite being sexy I never sold myself to the highest bidder” she would say. She talked about how so many men tempted her with offers in exchange to fuck them but turned them down. She was hot and she knew it and had no price tag. She mentioned during her stay in Skyfield some guys came to pick up the chic she stayed with and she tagged along. Prior to that the females in the hostel thought she had no swag because she wasn't raised in Lagos. That day she showed her sexiness without demeaning herself. The guys turned their attention to her but she turned them down. That was what she said.

If you heard her talk you would think she was a saint but I had me reservations. I had no doubt men would want to fuck her and the few days she had spent was enough for me to know the calibre of men. I felt she had them in quantity not in quality, like the Estate Agent who told her he liked her and wanted them to cohabitate. An estate agent who couldn’t get a place for himself, tell me that isn’t the definition of a loser? She did meet a banker though, we laughed at his spellings and grammar as they chat on her Blackberry. That had to be the dumbest banker [if he was being honest]. But he did lie about not being married. The man got carried away as he used his family picture as his display picture and ended up deleting him as a contact. Like I said, [D] had them in quantity and not in quality and was probably jealous she wasn’t attracting the type of guys a typical Lagos [by that I meant UNILAG babe] had. She claimed it was possible for her to have such but she wasn’t ready to compromise with her body and besides, she had the love of her life Francis. The only guy she had dated who was in Port Harcourt (Rivers state) patiently waiting for her return after completion of her NYSC service year here in Lagos.

That was the second time she would mention his name and this time she didn’t stop there. She began with the butterfly tales, how their love had grown over six years and they were soon going to walk down the aisle. I had no idea she was engaged BUT decided not to wear the ring. She added she wasn’t use to walking around with it. She made it clear the relationship had been through rough times. They had been through ups/downs thick/thin and with God their relationship had survived. There was no doubt he felt the same about her. She mentioned a time he was seriously ill and while barely unconscious he kept saying her name faintly with his eyes shut. “[D] where are you...[D] I love you”. Sounds romantic BUT there was a reason most girls I know call me insensitive and [D] was about to find out.

Like I learnt, you can only lie with words.  I reminded her of her reaction when I told her he was on the on the line while her phone was ringing days earlier. I asked why she was shocked. If their relationship was on point and they were engaged like she wanted me to believe, she should have smiled instead of being surprised her fiancé called. At that point she should have shut up but instead made an attempt to defend all she said. Her reply, she was surprised because he hadn't called her lately and they hadn’t spoken for days. I told her, “you should have called instead, what if something terrible had happened to you fiancé or was it usual for him not to call for days?” Once again, she should have shut up and change the topic but she still wanted me to believe the relationship was on point. Her response probably skipped her brain and travelled straight to her mouth. She said he knew she wasn't feeling too well and was sure that was the reason he hadn’t called.
“Really, you know your fiancé wasn’t feeling too well and decided not to call him because he hadn’t called? That would explain the reason for him not to call but [D] what was yours?” I said.
“You won’t understand,”
“Then make me”...

[D] and Francis: The Real Story after my wasting time with fairy tales

[D] and Francis dated for almost six years. He was her first (and only). Yes, relationships aren't perfect but we make compromises and sacrifices to adjust, BUT how much was too much a compromise or sacrifice. That was a question she had no answer to and was willing to make any sacrifice because she wanted a fairy tale relationship, to say the first and only guy she had been with sexually was her husband.

The relationship begun in the university, he was two levels ahead and she was the new girl every guy wanted to date because of her "swag". She did mention some guys made it obvious they only want to have sex with her, but she claimed to have a strong will to turn down advances. Francis came along and she accepted his proposal. He wasn’t richer or more handsome than the other guys that asked her out but she couldn’t help herself falling for him. She got used to hearing he wasn’t good enough for her. They dated for almost two years before they had sex and he was surprised she was a virgin.

From the way she had portrayed herself so far I was surprised she didn’t claim to be a virgin. In my mind 
 I was like, so you do know what a dick felt like and keep pretending like a nun.

She told me how faithful she was despite his friends were making passes at her and wanted to sleep with her. Some became her boyfriend’s friend as a disguise to get close to her. She told me how one of 'em wanted to force his way after turning him down. I had to interrupt her there and ask, "How come it was always you guys want to rape? I get the fact a guy sees you and thinks of sexing you but why do they feel they had to rape?" I said that because that was the second time she mentioned a guy wanting to rape her and failing. The first was her aunt’s husband’s friend.

She exalted herself in her response. She said by the time they tried convincing her with words and gifts they got frustrated knowing it was never an option. They learnt the hard way rape would be the way they could have her and still they could never succeed. [D] claimed she was too strong to get raped.

She admitted she was once attracted to a guy Imma back in school. He was tall, fair, and treated her right. They got real close that his neighbour assumed they were fucking. According to her he was a gentleman and would have dated him if Francis wasn’t in the picture. Imma travelled out of the country to pursue a career in football and never got to see him again. She did hear from one of his friends after that. He told her Imma loved her but never that the courage to tell her. Anyway, Imma was out of the country and the picture so Francis had no threat.

You know I said girls were fond of saying they weren't going to tell me something and by the time they do they fill me in with info I didn't even ask. [D] was no exception. She told me the strongest obstacle their relationship faced was her friends and family. There had to be a reason. Francis used to abuse her physically, like beat the crap out of her. Like all abused females in relationships she (wrongfully) admitted it was her fault for provoking such assault. Apparently a slap didn’t convince her. She had scars all over her body and lips as a constant reminder of the brutality she went through but still called him a "nice guy". She gave an instance where he beat her black and blue, back to black back-to-back and admitted she deserved it. She said it was her fault for provoking him after burning his shirts. I asked her why she burnt his shirts and her response was she burnt them in retaliation after he had beaten her that morning [sic].

Her friends tried to talk her out of the relationship but she was convinced Francis was her soul mate. Even his brother told her he wasn't the guy for her and told her about his promiscuity yet she still wasn't ready to stop calling him ‘boyfriend’. She caught him cheating, lying, and always claimed he was broke as an excuse not to spend on her yet she saw him as her future husband. Her pastor’s vision did not include Francis as the husband but this babe will not be moved. She learnt he got a girl pregnant and the babe’s family were willing to make him financially responsibly but she still believed Francis was the Man.

She made a point her bond with Francis was special and with time he would see that and change. She mentioned he fell seriously ill each time she tried to break up and got better as soon as they got back together. She referred to the time he was barely unconscious and kept saying her name, days earlier she had broken up the relationship. He began to speak as soon as she got to his bedside. She believed the reason he wasn’t feeling well at that time was also because she broke up with him during her stay in orientation camp. I asked about the engagement, “Was there any proposal?” She responded he proposed to her while in camp, on phone, after she broke up. He told her over the phone he got her an engagement ring and had the intention to propose for a while.

I told her what I had in mind I didn't mince words. I made her see from my own perspective that such brutality would only get worse as the relationship grew. It was built on the wrong foundation with the absence of support from family and friends, if her pastor was right, heaven as well. She needed to stop making silly excuses and move ahead. By the time I was done she claimed it was over and confessed to seeing other guys by the side but none of them could make her stop thinking of Francis. She said only Imma could make her forget him but had no idea where he was. She was in love with him and if he called her that very minute to propose she would accept. I laughed it off thinking it was a joke.
I slept late that night as she asked google about Imma’s whereabout. She had found the strength to move on...I hoped.

Hours later I was woken up from sleep by what sounded like a whisper. I listened carefully and realised it was a prayer. I didn’t move. I pretended I was asleep as I heard [D] pray to God about Francis. It sounded like a typical Mountain of Fire Prayer requesting everyone that stood between her relationship with Francis to DIE!!! She prayed about the covenant she made with God. The covenant was about getting married to him and nothing was going to change that. She prayed for Francis to change his ways and the strength for her to love him better. For over an hour I heard this babe pray about a guy that had caused her more than physical pain and pretended I was asleep. I wondered if any chic had such sleepless night because of me. I definitely don’t want that. The lesson I learnt from this was some people do not want to be happy. They condition their happiness to that which cause them pain making if difficult, if not impossible, to enjoy the moment. 

By the time I was done she told me she was ending the relationship. In fact, she said the relationship was over but Francis was finding that difficult to accept. That night I was woken up by the voice of this girl praying to God to change Francis so that they would get married. I pretended to be asleep as I said to myself "some people do not want to be happy". 

Part 6: Our Skin, Our History
Part 7: Pot Calling Kettle Black 
Part 8: Will You Marry You? 
Part 9: The Date 
Part 10: Time To Go
Part 11: REALLY, Time To Go 
Part 12: You Can't Please Anyone  

Monday, April 2, 2012

The [D] Project: You Can Only Lie With Words (pt. 4 of 13)


Once upon a time in 2011, I allowed a girl live with me in my room for what was supposed to be a few days. The plan was she crashed with me till she got her own apartment. Her name was [D], a chic that looked like sex from the south-south. Although things ended up like... I look back at that period to realise I learnt a lot. That period is known as The-[D]-Project and these were the lessons I learnt.


Lesson 1: You Can Only Lie With Words
Out of curiosity I wanted to know if she was in any serious relationship. It wasn’t a big deal to me but if this girl was going to share my bed I had to know if there was a guy somewhere wishing me bad. I had two options to find out. One, chill for a day or two to find out the one guy she talks to frequently or ask. Since I hate wasting time I preferred to ask but I couldn’t be direct. Nigerian girls have a way of making such question a big deal. It was either they refuse to answer or exaggerate about how their boyfriend was all these and heaven. 

I decided to use a technique that had worked for me combined with a philosophy I believe in. The technique is simple; I ask series of questions first to establish a baseline before I ask the main question. The same way lie detector tests were conducted- you ask neutral questions before the ones you needed answers to. The manner she use in answering compared to that of the baseline would determine if was answered honestly. The philosophy is simple; we can only lie with words. That’s why i need to observe the manner/tone/non-verbal aspect a question was answered.

First, I asked questions about her mum. "Fine", she replied immediately. If anyone I asked was truly "fine" she would answer in a similar tone. I also asked about her sister which she did the same. I kept on asking questions that won’t lead to her replying “why are you asking OR why do you want to know”. When she got real comfortable, “how is your boyfriend?” I asked. There was a pause...  I already had my answer. "He is...fine," she said finally. I knew that was a lie. That was the first question she paused before answering. The tone which she used to answer made it obvious it was a grey area.

I concluded if she had a boyfriend it wasn't rosy. It was an assumption I would have to work with. She added "[Any] would know better, I can't tell you". I didn't press further. [Any], I had forgotten she existed. She had gone silent since she told me about [D]; not a word about since. I noticed she had been chatting with [D] and the last message she sent was “Don’t let him know we are chatting”. I knew [D] would change her mind about not talking about her relationship. Fact was I've lost count of the number of times girls told me "I can't tell you about..." and later spill out their mind to things I never asked. It takes time and I have all it takes. She did tell me his name though, Francis.

She knew I didn’t believe about her relationship being ‘fine’ from the look on my face and attempted to convince [herself] the relationship was ok. Maybe I was jumping into conclusions, I do that a lot. Her phone rang while it was closer to me, I looked at the caller ID and told her it was “Sweetheart”. She paused and I could see the shock in her eyes like, It can’t be. “It has to be Francis,” I added as I passed her phone to her. She gave a sign of relief as she checked the ID to confirm and saw it was her mum. “You are not serious” she said and laughed. Why would a girl be relieved it wasn't her boyfriend on the phone?

That was enough answer for me. It confirmed something was definitely up in that relationship. She could use over a hundred words to talk about her relationship being on point but he reaction/tone/manner when talking about it expressed doubt. Like I said, we can only lie with words.

Part 5: Some People Don't Want To Be Happy 
Part 6: Our Skin, Our History 
Part 7: Pot Calling Kettle Black 
Part 8: Will You Marry You? 
Part 9: The Date 
Part 10: Time To Go
Part 11: REALLY, Time To Go 
Part 12: You Can't Please Anyone