
This is how they say love is to be painted; how they say love is formed, how they say love is recognized. That if love comes this way then truly you’ve found it — then truly, you’ve found the man who will come uproot you from your father’s house.
They say it is first seen in these kinds of texts from a stalker on WhatsApp: “Hllo, beauriful grl. Aw re you? Ave u eatin?”
You mustn’t rush to tell him no, or that you are very hungry. You must form a little, act like a big girl. A big girl you aren’t. You are sixteen years old, with nothing but wild imaginations, peer pressure choking you, and phone fiddling in your friend’s place at hand.
You must resist the enticing offer, must allow it linger a while, to stay afloat before agreeing to go out with him.
As a big girl you’ve grown to be, your response should be, “Am not hungri.” Only that, for a start. Wait for his imminent response. If he texts a bit too late it means he doesn’t truly love you. But if he replies immediately, ignoring all other chats and is willing to know why you’re not hungry at 2pm today, then he is the one for you.
“Babi u shuld bi hungri na. Cum letz go out na any place you want plix.” This is how men who are in love text.
So, when you get this kind of text make sure not to show him that you’re excited and hungry. Chide your thought — suppress it with “k. I think am free now” as your reply.
Men who love you will drive to your street and take you out in lofty cars.
They will want to whisk you away after you must’ve had a belly-filling lunch with them, will want to kiss your hand while at lunch. Withdraw your hand. Do not give in to them immediately. Form a little.
They’ll want to plant a surprise kiss on your lips but deny them that. Wait till you get to their houses and form stomach-ache. There, he’ll feel sorry for you and will give you transport money. That’s how you’ll earn without anything happening.
But it did not happen same way. He was too strong. Held you tightly and threatened to kill you.
He kissed you all the way from the door of his home, this Mr. Nnamdi, to the couch. To the dining room. To the kitchen — with your buttocks and lips hurting you as he squeezed and kissed them — up the staircase. Made you go up the stairs to his bedroom. Then with a rapid, unstoppable twirling of his waist against yours, thrusted ferociously between your legs until he came. He left your body clammy with his sweat. Went to his fridge, brought out a bottle; a bottle of malt. Handed it to you and transport fare so you find your way home around 8pm that night.
Men who love you will leave you after they’ve had what you let them have.
This is beautiful. Especially the whatsapp lingo. On point!
I like how humour sits well in this piece, and I’d be unjust if I failed to point out the unwavering relativity of this piece.
One word; Sincere. Beautiful. Entertaining.
Shoot. That’s three. 😂
Thank you, everyone that have read this. I am grateful and happy more so, that you all read this story and have allowed it resonate.