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From The Heart: Part IV

09 May

It’s been an awfully long time, please forgive me! :’(
On the other hand,I just couldn’t conclude this piece in one fell swoop (it would have been too long and you would have fallen asleep halfway through!). So I decided to divide the last part into two. Next week, my story ends. But today, please enjoy…

 

I came to roughly about 5 minutes later as I heard a man’s voice, seemingly from very far away. I tried to get up, wincing as I felt a sharp pain in my right flank that caused me to grit my teeth, barely stopping a grunt of pain from escaping. I heard him a bit clearly now, closer – he was speaking broken English.

“Herh! What dey do you? You booze?!”

I ignored him as I reached underneath my car to retrieve the keys I’d flipped there when I dropped to the ground – or more specifically, when I was dropped to the ground. With no small effort, I heaved myself up to my feet and would have passed out once more as my head swam again, were it not for the security guard who caught me as I slumped.

He half-dragged/carried me to his post at the far end of the parking lot. I could tell that he was worried now, seeing my state – something of such a nature shouldn’t have taken place under his watch. He sat me down and with a resigned look on his face, lifted the handset of his telephone off the cradle to place a call – to Campus Security I guessed.

Before he could finish placing the call, I ripped out the cord from the wall jack, shaking my head.

”No. It’s okay, I’m fine.” He’d helped me so far and I knew he could get into trouble over the parking lot incident so I would do everything in my power to make it all ‘go away’. I saw the look of relief on his face as I waved him away from the phone and knew I’d done the right thing. He magically produced a makeshift ice pack which I placed on my pounding forehead.

“But you fit drive go like so?” he enquired, showing genuine concern.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.” I assured him. And it was true. My head had cleared up a bit, the pain receding into a dull ache that only became worse when I turned my head a bit too rapidly. Those bastards had really done a number on me! Read the rest of this entry »


 
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Let’s Start A Conspiracy!

13 Apr

“Courage sometimes skips a generation, thank you for bringing it back to our family.” I had to watch a dozen movies to chance upon one with a line this profound, backed by a storyline that renders me sober.

You know me, and how much I’m not for outings, especially on public holidays and festivities like Easter, when all our brethren from lake and grass lands come and join us in Accra to go watch the sea. The thought of scalding heat and winding traffic makes me develop a whole new height of love for my chamber and hall. So at home last weekend, browsing through my laptop’s video folder, I chanced upon ‘The Help’, and boyyyy was I helped to something transformational.

I’m a movie connoisseur. In my lifetime, I’ve spent more time watching movies than it probably took the Chinese to build the Great wall. Seriously. After you’ve done anything as long as I’ve been watching movies, you get a knack for telling good ones by just seeing the first frame. I could make out a good movie if it came disguised in toothbrush-length extended eye lashes and fake cologne, driving a ‘Lapaz Toyota’. On Easter Monday, I found one; ‘The Help’.

It’s not your typical gbush gbush cha(action-packed) movie with a blowman possessing 9 lives, steamy sex scenes and a killer who knows the perfect time to die; ‘The End’, no it’s not. The Help is set in Jackson, Mississippi at a time when the fight against racial discrimination was climaxing, in the 1960s. But the beauty of the movie isn’t so much about the gripping plot as it is about the quality of acting. Acting so rich, it transcends a job, a profession and reaches the height of a, a ministry. Read the rest of this entry »


 
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From The Heart: Part III

09 Apr

Sorry it’s taken such a long while to bring you the next part of this story – work & all, you know? But I promise you – It’s been worth the wait…

 

Marcia. Even her name haunted me the whole next week long. So much so that I even forgot to freak out about what had happened on the court the week before – and in retrospect, maybe I should have then…but I’m getting ahead of myself here.

I was mostly preoccupied that week with trying to find her again. By the end of the second day, it’d dawned on me that I was on my own in this one – sweet Fate who brought her to me had washed Her hands off the matter and I had to do all the work this time to make sure there was a repeat scene of that awesomeness after the game.

If you knew me in person, you’d know that I rarely have my business ‘out there’ in the public domain, it just isn’t my style (besides, if it blasts, wouldn’t it be better to have contained it from Day One to reduce the ‘fallout’?!). So there was no way I’d go about asking around if anyone knew some Marcia Owusu Adjei.

I decided to systematically comb through all the Hostels I knew of, using any excuse I could think of to go a-visiting some of my oldest acquaintances in order to make my subtle enquiries. I was kinda hoping I would just walk into a room sometime and bam! There she would be – sitting by the window or watching some series, just being her unique awesome self! Fine, fine, that was a bit unrealistic, but you didn’t feel what I felt when I saw her for the first time!

Sure, I got a few stares after showing up unannounced at some of the rooms –people who I hadn’t seen or even spoken to in months – but the feeling would not be denied.

What was denied me was finding out where she’d gone.

“Ah Charles, I heard there was some girl bi here in your Hostel. My boy bi said he’d be at her place so I should holla at him there –‘Marcia’ or something…?”

“Hi Rita. How’re you doing? I just remembered you were here and I needed some help. Someone left some books of mine with some girl here but he didn’t give me her room number – and I can’t seem to get through to him. He said her name was Marcia…Owusu ‘something’ I think.”

“Yo Gasty! I see you kyɛɛ o! Chaa, you for come make I shake you for the court top this week o! I dey beg, my mommie say make I claim some stew she take send some my couson bi but I no get her number. Her name be Marcia. E say she dey this your place o…”

Yeah. I was kinda desperate after the first few days. Read the rest of this entry »


 
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Posted in Life, short story

 

The Perfect Mistress IV

04 Apr

Today, he meets her, his mistress. Last week;

So on the 13th of May 2001, I left on a Delta flight, away from the land I thought would be home for me and Afua, away from the most notorious days of my life, bound to Ghana, with Sarah Swaniker lurking somewhere in the future, with business still unfinished with Afua, with a truckload of complications waiting to unfold.

*         *         *

It was close to midnight when dad barged into my room with a ripped-open envelope in hand. He noticed I was pensive, threw the envelope at me and said as he turned to leave.

“I hope you aren’t thinking of ways to sell my house, with me in it.”

I sighed, it had been like that since our return home to Abelenkpe, Accra Ghana, from Atlanta Georgia, America.

Mum had been the consoling one, telling me to pray more and think carefully about how I wanted my life to turn out. Think about how relevant my foolhardy outlook to life would be when I get too old to look good in a tattoo.

I noticed the blue University of Ghana logo behind the envelope dad had dropped. I reluctantly opened it to see an admission letter to read psychology, sociology and English. Officially, the University closed admissions in February, so for dad to have by-passed all that bureaucracy five months after, he must have pulled countless strings. I should have been amazed, grateful, thrilled or a million other positive emotions, but instead, I was blank.

I still had Afua in mind, she’d never left. You know how the pain is sharper when the Brufen fades off? Well my heart was louder now that common sense had moved back in. I sent her emails she didn’t reply, made calls she didn’t pick and sent texts she didn’t acknowledge. Then I grew tired and stopped. Through all this, Read the rest of this entry »


 
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The Perfect Mistress iii

26 Mar

Sorry it’s taken so long to bring you this. I feel like i don’t even have the moral right to…to…to talk plenty, lol. So I’m just going to dig in. I hope you find it was worth your wait. But this’ where we left off last;

When I arrived in Newark, I sought her out and verbally assaulted her to felony-magnitude. It took me two slow, long, hard months to win Afua back. In the process, I discovered that I was in love with her, because it dawned on me that there wasn’t any other girl I’ll have gone through all that trouble to get back. Edien nkwaa? When we surmounted that hurdle, I couldn’t fathom what could ever separate us. We were nineteen then, I was, and she was eighteen. Though unspoken, we had it all figured out; I’d marry her in the Pentecost church I met her in, and we’d live happily ever after.

*         *         *

A bit over three months after we made up, I moved in with Afua. O yeah we did! By Ghanaian standards, it would have been unthinkable, but we were flying high in the land of limitless possibilities. Ask me anything right now, in any language, from any era, and still, answering you’ll be easier than explaining how moving in with her felt like. Imagine the happiest day of your life, what if you could relive it every day! (Ps: If it’ll get boring over time, then you probably haven’t really been that happy :-p)

It was some time in July, and I had gained admission to Legon, but who thought of schooling in Ghana when he woke up every morning to heaven-wrapped-in-flesh? My future was in the US, with Afua. Whether or not I’d continue with my education, how I’d get a job and stay independent of my father (who was outraged), was irrelevant at the time. Relevance was breathing Afua’s air, being in her space, loving her, knowing her. Read the rest of this entry »


 
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From The Heart: Part II

24 Mar

A week after the burial service I was back in school. I thought I was holding up pretty well given the circumstances. Since we’d gotten a 2-in-a-room flat just off campus together at the beginning of the year, I now had all the space to myself. Big deal. I’d just look over to Jason’s Station (that boy had a really cheesy system of naming things, I swear!) – the wide desk on at the foot of the bed upon which his all-in-one Mac sat -  and I’d half-expect to see him seated in his swivel chair, headset on, gripping his controller as he played one of several games he’d installed with such intensity.

Don’t get me wrong, Jason was always in the top 3 in his class. He was a natural who just needed to flip through a few books a week and he was ready for anything. Medical School was the breeze to him it never was for anyone else. I was the one who had to commit at least 5 hours a day to the thick Architecture manuals and projects in order to place within the top 10 at my Faculty! I’d come back to the room after sleeping at the Studio for over 2 days to find him either hard at it gaming, or splayed out on his bed, fast asleep!

I smiled ironically as I remembered the number of times I’d amuse myself as I crawled into bed exhausted, appeasing myself by thinking through a number of ways to mess up his sleep as he lay there – I never thought of killing him in a car crash.

I began to walk through my days then, smiling at every “Sorry he’s gone, Nana”, “We’ll really miss him”, and (my personal favourite) “E go be, eh!” Read the rest of this entry »


 
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From The Heart : Part I

19 Mar

Thump-Thump! Thump-Thump! That loud noise was the first thing I remember, repeating itself over and over in my head. Gradually, I finally managed to open my bleary eyes a fraction at last.

It took a while for the blurry image in front of me to resolve itself into Mama Efua and Dad at the foot of my bed. All around was white: The Hospital. My mother had a look of concern she was trying bravely to keep under control but I heard her gasp with relief when I finally opened my eyes fully.

“Water,” I gasped. My throat was dry and felt scratchy.

She released my dad’s hand which she’d been clutching and came over to my side to pour me a glass of water from the pitcher on the locker beside my bed.

“Here you go Nana,” she said holding it up to my lips. Dad was smiling now. He knew his wife would do her own going-over to assess my condition for herself. Sometimes being married to a doctor was not easy but over the twenty-something odd years of marriage, they’d come to an agreement: when it came to health matters, he’d let her have her way – his turn would come whenever they needed a new room built!

“You should have seen your mother when they wheeled you out of surgery 2 days ago!” Dad started, shaking his head with mock longsuffering. “She was doing that her hummingbird thing again – hovering around checking your charts and cross-checking your medications and what not! Were it not that she had shares in this hospital I’m sure the Floor matron would have kicked her out pronto!”

I saw Mama Efua give him a look that would have withered watermelons! She opened her mouth to give him a scathing reply, I’m sure, but then seemed to change her mind. But I think I heard her mutter something beneath her breath that sounded like “As if I was the one checking with the staff every 10 minutes whether the surgery was over!” I don’t think he heard her…or he chose not to hear – wise man.

Then it all suddenly came crashing back! The rain, the slippery road, the girl who slipped and fell right into the middle of the road, stepping on the brakes, the car somersaulting – Read the rest of this entry »


 
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Posted in Blog, Life, Love, short story

 

The Call

09 Mar

Just because every story has a flipside…

‘Did you see that old man pass by?’ Nishi asked his companion in a conspiratorial whisper. He was pointing at an elderly man a few metres away, just leaving the Beer-sheba marketplace.

While Nishi was a rather gaunt-looking man, tall and thin with a perpetual look of distaste on his face, his companion was a portly man with a rather unwelcoming face to suit his usually gruff and heartless manner. He was known in Beer-sheba and its surrounding towns as the Merchant, Amron. Seemingly, the only one who could stand his company for any appreciable amount of time was Nishi. Probably because both men saw in one another the same untrustworthy and ruthless nature he himself already had. Together, they made up nearly half of the total business force of Beer-sheba.

Tossing the old man a side-long glace, Amron replied, “Yes? What about him?”

“I heard he left the land of his people to trek through the wilderness in wild pursuit of some god! He says it’s a god he cannot see or feel but he still believes in him, anyway!”

Amron then turned his head to get a better look at the receding figure. ‘What an idiot! I think he is a bit uh-uh up there!’ he retorted, tapping his temple with a finger! And then he proceeded to say the words that would forever ring in Nishi’s ears whenever he thought of his friend Amron. “I would never be that foolish! Doing all that with no tangible guarantee! If I ever do something as foolish, may I be struck down by the spear of Baal! In fact, if anyone or anything of my household serves this god, may he strike me down in my tracks, if he can!” Read the rest of this entry »


 
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Just Love Me…

02 Mar

It’s been a singularly tough week for me so as usual I turned to my therapy process: writing! And this time, it seemed the only thing that could fix me up was the hopes of a Dream, a Dream of what everyone wishes for: Love that would stick it out through everything.

I write like this simply because I still believe that the Real Thing is out there. And after all that happens and all the stresses of life, sometimes all you want to say to that Someone is simply, “Just Love Me…“

 

Outside it’s dark
Dark that’s spread inside
Inside our small 2-bedroom house
House that stands out like an island
Island dark, bereft in a sea of light
Light our neighbours take for granted
Granted, to each his own path
Path we’ve walked down that brought us here.
Here where the roof is leaking
Leaking cold rain as it storms outside
Outside where my jalopy lies rusting Read the rest of this entry »


 
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Posted in Life, Love, Poems

 

When You’re Loving a Prayer Papa!

24 Feb

This piece was actually inspired by an incident a friend narrated to me a while ago. I immediately told her that I’d write a poem about it but I guess she thought I was joking! Sometimes we pray for something so much and so hard that we forget to prepare for it and when we do get it, well, we don’t handle it too well (sometimes we don’t even realise that we’ve received out request  until it’s too late!) For his Girlfriend: When You’re Loving a Prayer Papa!

She was lost twice over
Before she met this Christian Brother
He told her life could be much better
And so he drew her near to meet his dear Father
Till with many days of desperate prayer
From her burdens the Lord managed to deliver her.

Read the rest of this entry »


 
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The Best Man I Can Be!

17 Feb

Guys don’t get to be off the hook either. Just because it begged to be completed, I wrote this piece as the complement to last week’s bit ‘Who’s That Girl?!’ here: http://goldinwords.com/2012/02/11/whos-that-girl/

I hope I’ll have a witness in the house tonight!


My brothers, once again, we have a problem and I need to address it before we become the fathers that our friends, family, wives and children will love to hate. I happen to believe that every man is called to be a Gentleman.

In the tradition of Slim Shady, let me first ask all the real Gentlemen to please stand up – wait! Not so fast! So you say you’re a Gentleman? Prove it. It doesn’t come cheap you know?! And FYI, I’m not talking about money here.

Coming straight to the point, let me emphatically state: It’s not because of your Pierre Cardin long-sleeved shirts, your Trezeguet watch, your Cole Haan loafers or your Emporio Armani jacket that you gain membership to this Fraternity. It’s also not because of your maxed out KLM Frequent Flyer card either. And let’s not get on the case of your presumed freshness! It’s not the outside that counts my man: it’s what’s inside you. Read the rest of this entry »


 
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The Perfect Mistress II

13 Feb

Tell me, why does Kusi’s wahala captivate you so much? Is it because you’ve lived it, or you easily could? What do you think, does the childhood sweetheart win over the impending bride? This week’s piece clarifies things more. But just a reminder on where we left off;

After week one, Kailie and I hit it off like it we had never been apart. But I never really liked her, it was Afua, it had always been her and at the time, I didn’t know it’ll always be her. Because of Kailie, Afua and I got to speak once in a while, then it became more frequent till we could have ten-minute conversations on our own. She was delicate and intricate, sweet and obstinate, so strong willed, so…so…Afua.

I didn’t have to wait a whole year to return to Newark, Aunty Kay wanted me over for the Christmas break too. It was impromptu, but I was delighted to go. Kailie wasn’t expecting me till the next summer, and I guess the chilly winter made allowing Calvin Safo privileges seem like a smart thing to do. When I found out, I was hurt, naturally, but not devastatingly so. It was that vac Afua and I got really close.

*            *             *

I secretly thanked Kailie for her blunder and savored every moment I spent with Afua. Fortunately, they had had some girl squabble and weren’t on good terms, all the better! Things were fast-slow with Afua, I mean we were very close, but she wouldn’t let me in (I don’t meant that literally!). She was full of life and knew at thirteen that she wanted to be a top lawyer with a major New York firm. She was so intelligent, the first time I heard the word ‘evasive’ was when she used it to describe me. She couldn’t grasp how I always managed to dodge her serious questions, and there was something she just couldn’t figure out about me. In retrospect, I guess that’s what kept me on her mind.

Her mum and mine had gotten pretty close, and along with Aunty Kay, had become a trinity of sorts, all the better! On my last day, when she realized she wasn’t going to see me for another six months she gave me a hug so intimate, so pure I wouldn’t trade it for all the kisses I’ve had since (countless, with most meaningless). That’s why if you ask me, I don’t think the sweetness of a hug is proportional to how foamy the lady’s chest is. Read the rest of this entry »


 
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Who’s That Girl?!

11 Feb

Don’t you sometimes wish the roles had been clearly defined?? I know I do! Many times, I’ve felt like somewhere along the road (probably somewhere in between male chauvinism and feminism; or between the ‘Good Old Days’ and Beijing!) we got the roles either twisted, or just totally trashed the standards. So in response to this perceived ‘imbalance’ I wrote this piece at the insistence of a friend of mine a while ago. But I also tweaked it a bit.

So this is my take on one of my most favorite people in the world: the Lady.

 

A Lady is a woman who makes a man act like a Gentleman…

I honestly don’t remember where I first heard that nugget of gold but it’s been one of my central beliefs ever since.

So this’s basically my answer to a question that seems bound to pop up at some point or another: That girl you’re checking out, is she a Lady? Read the rest of this entry »


 
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The Prick & Dick Trickery -Guest Poet, Leslie Aryeh

09 Feb

‘The Lust Masquerade’ has turned out to be the most read article here on Goldinwords within the shortest space of time. It also generated the most traffic this site has ever seen on one day! I don’t think we’ll know for sure the full magnitude of its ripple effect, but there is something notable those 903 words have inspired, and that’s what I cant wait to share with you.

Solely via this blog, I’ve come to know people I’ll otherwise never have known, Leslie Aryeh is an example. He is one of those people who have gone past being loyal fans to becoming an integral part of this blog. Countless times he’s e-mailed, commented and commended. Though I have never met him, I have more than enough reason to believe he’s a swell person, and a very creative one too, you’ll see. He read ‘The Lust Masquerade’ and was moved to write a poem based on it. The second I read it, I knew you’ll love it. He gave me the honor of titling it, and you know how unconventional I am with titles, so I thought, why not call it ‘The Prick & Dick Trickery’. So here you go, Leslie Aryeh’s…

The Prick & Dick Trickery

I speak of a time

A time when white was white

And black was a blot not a fashionable polka dot

Read the rest of this entry »


 
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The Perfect Mistress

06 Feb

I was standing on the altar, with Nana behind me. The cathedral was sparsely adorned with striking purple and silver banners. Family and close friends who knew the colors had dressed accordingly so that a panoramic view would have given the impression of an elite, contemporary choir. Nana dutifully wiped off non-existent lint from my one-button blue-black tuxedo, ensuring that I was in perfect shape for my wedding. If only that was something another man could ensure.

Father Andoh bellowed in his rich baritone “Shall we welcome the bride?” Indirectly commanding the about three-hundred guests to rise and turn to the dome-entrance of the century-old Holy Spirit Cathedral. The grand piano begun to play the famous, age-old, clichéd (to me) wedding chorus; ♫panpanpanaa, panpanpanaa… ♫ I hadn’t wanted that, but any Swaniker wedding had to play by the Swaniker traditions. I would have rather had P-SQUARE on stage singing their hit song No One Like You

I was anxious to behold her, I hadn’t seen her in two days, and she hadn’t slept over in three months. Her conventional mother had insisted on all the old-fashioned traditions and her too-rich-to-be-human father hadn’t stopped breathing down my neck since three months ago when Sarah told him about our marriage plans.

In the two days I hadn’t seen her, we had exchanged 314 Whatsapp messages, and had been on the phone for approximately three and half hours. She was 59% responsible for that. She told me about the $9,000 dress her sister had brought from London, and the $1,800 tiara her mother had gifted her with. I was sure they’ll be glamorous but my mind kept chiming “All that cash?!” So I was anxious to see her. Read the rest of this entry »


 
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Knowing Me (Also!) Better

02 Feb

I write. Sometimes. But I like to challenge myself to do things most people I know wouldn’t. I also like to devise a new ‘take’ on things. So I’m stealing the format of this bit from Benjamin’s ‘Know Me Better’ – at least, that’s my excuse :D .

 

The Fun Me

My name’s Tele, Seth Tele Hassan (I always feel a little bit extra confidence after I say my name like that). Tomorrow, the 3rd of February, I shall celebrate my next birthday (and serendipitously, officially become a licensed medical doctor!)

I don’t do sports (no football, no basketball, no tennis). But I’m not fat! (I think Someone Up There is helping me out with that one) I am a bona fide gamer though. Ever since I saw that frustrating Minesweeper at the age of 3, I was hooked! Now whether it’s a PC game, PlayStation or even on the iPad, I can assure you that I can, in the least, give you the run of your life for your money! Different friends have tried to teach me swimming though, but the thought of that just makes me wince at the memories it’ll evoke…so I’ve just thought of the best way around that: I’ll just wait to learn with my children in the future (that way I can’t do too horribly, and their presence will chase the bad memories away.) Read the rest of this entry »


 
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Me & the Most Notorious Old Testament King

31 Jan

The Ghanaian media is currently experiencing a ‘Gargantuan Crimes’ fad, to the extent that the phrase is being used in reference to just about anything. Like, “Look at the gargantuan lunch you’re having”, or “My love for you is so gargantuan eh!” lol, you know how we [Gh] do. It was originally used by the recently-fired Attorney General in describing the nature of wrongdoings plaguing the incumbent government.

Well there’s this dude in the Old Testament who makes any gargantuan crime of any current government official seem like child’s play. What baffles me is that at a time when God was extremely active in king making, this king managed to remain in power for 22 years! I’m also curious about his wife, a woman who scared the legendary prophet Elijah out of his socks animal-skin flip-flops, a woman who is even used in modern day to describe evil, ruthless women who stop at nothing to get what they want; Jezebel.

So I called King Ahab up, and I was like “Yo, what’re my chances of getting an exclusive with you?” Read the rest of this entry »


 
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Goldinwords Gets 2nd Resident Blogger!

26 Jan

In the past two years that we’ve been walking this road, we’ve had a wonderful time. Every week (well, almost), I’ve provided you with a refreshing reading experience, and you have shown your contentment by visiting frequently and bringing friends along. Today, there are over 500 of us fans, and over 300 of us subscribers from all walks of life. Those who visit, but leave no trail (ghost visitors) are several hundreds too.

We have frequent visitors from seventy countries in all five continents of this world, and that’s even our worst case scenario! This year, we’re on a GROWTH SPREE. The emphasis isn’t on the numbers though, but on how impressed each visit here leaves you. That’s the way to go abi? You’ve complained countless times about how infrequent posts updates are – I heard. You’d like that there weren’t so many gaps between posts too, right? I’ve tried to fix that. And so I have great news for you. Goldinwords is getting a SECOND resident blogger!

Read the rest of this entry »


 
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the LUST masquerade

24 Jan

A few days ago (for that’s how it feels like), you had to eavesdrop on the conversation of a bunch of drunk horny unmarried men to hear about sex. You had to get the corner booth of an obscure internet café a bus-ride from your town, close to midnight to feel ‘safe’ enough to visit a porno website. You had to get stranded in town to chance upon a prostitute at Circle or the Akuffo Addo round-about in Cantoments. You could freely use dictionary words like ‘come’, ‘penetrate’ ‘blue’ ‘balls’ ‘dirty’ ‘eat’ ‘prick’ ‘cock’ doggy’ ‘pussy’ and ‘wet’ without the worry of being misunderstood. Those were the good old days (relatively).

Now it is in the jokes we laugh at, in the songs we dance to, in the interesting chats we have, in the good movies we watch, in the statuses we update. It’s in the lifestyles of our mentors, in our favorite books, on billboards and banners. Tell me, what on earth is a horny-looking half-naked curvaceous woman doing on a Read the rest of this entry »


 
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Being your Boyfriend’s Best Friend-the dream

19 Jan

The kind of boyfriend I refer to in this article is the kind who earnestly desires to be faithful and truly doesn’t want to lose you, not the kind who mentally undresses all your female friends and abjectly disrespects your commitment. Such a man child doesn’t deserve you for even an online acquaintance.

Becoming your boyfriend’s best friend is an ambitious quest. You’re looking forward to the day when he’ll rush to confide in you before calling his boys boys. What are his secrets? The ones he’ll tell his clique but not you, his girlfriend. Why can they call him silly names with him laughing in response, but when you say same, he flips and feels disrespected? They casually ask him ‘W’agyimi anaa? Why you fool so? Abodam” He giggles and replies “Daabi, me na me y3 gyime3 nu, I am foolishness itself” They rumble on about other matters and bark at each other by the minute. That is their intimate expression of camaraderie and it’s beautiful, considering how petty your girlfriends can be. Read the rest of this entry »


 
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