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Posts Tagged ‘Love’

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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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 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

 

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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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 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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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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2 Cupids, 1 Heart- The Showdown

06 Dec

Honestly, this Chris and Ginny palaver is taking a toll on even me o, so I can imagine  what it is doing to you. Today he tells her, see what happens. But remember where we left off?

I feigned disapproval. Then later as we were driving to the GIMPA gardens to confirm our reservation for Saturday’s wedding reception, I feigned deep interest. I feigned just about every emotion that day. The only emotion I could have easily and sincerely expressed would have been abject confusion.

Should I tell him? Should i ‘hypotheticalize’ it and ask for advice? Should I find Ginny, grab and kiss her and let things find their feet? Whatever it is I had to do, it had to be done in forty-eight hours. That was all I had left until the love of my life got married to my brother-of-a-friend.

*        *        *

Traffic in Accra was more dreadful than a skin disease. After GIMPA, we drove to the Accra Mall and finalized arrangements with Kwame Pocho, Accra’s paparazzi sensation. We picked up much needed cheques from two of Sam’s bosses in Osu and Labadi. Then we drove towards Airport Residential area to confirm the African Regency reservations; that’s where the couple would spend their first married night.

Sam asked what I thought of the king size bed. My cruel mind visualized Ginny lying on his bare chest, covered in nothing but a duvet, and I rushed to the bathroom like I’d had a purgative for breakfast. I couldn’t stand the thought, I didn’t want to admit it, but the manageable trickle of jealousy in my veins was growing into a steady stream.

Read the rest of this entry »

 
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2 Cupids, 1 Heart- Loving my best friend’s girl VI

22 Nov

How’ve you been? I’m not going to blabber (much to your relief I figure). Straight to the main course we go. But first, where we left off last week;

Somewhere in the middle of the stack, I saw it. The stained, cover-less exercise book I wrote in, not lecture notes. You see, as a matter of principle, I don’t keep diaries. I’d write my precious thoughts in stanzas. It was my little-known talent. I didn’t speak of it much because it was inconsistent with my alpha-male aura. Can you picture Christiano Ronaldo and Shakespeare in one person? Exactly! Back in the day, I used to rap some of the poems, but some things were too pristine, too ethereal, too pure for a ghetto rendition, Like Ginny. Half of the scribbles in that book were about her.

“Hi Chris, it’s been ages.”

OO SHIT! That wasn’t Amma, and it couldn’t have been Sam’s voice. I turned, slow mo, it was Ginny. She was standing in the doorway, my doorway. My bladder filled spontaneously, and I got it like a friend request; I wasn’t over her.

*       *        *

My pupils dilated, I felt cold all over and my hands moved clumsily. I didn’t even realize I had dropped my poem book. If I had taken an X-ray then, it would have shown my stomach touching my heart, and my intestines writing “Awurade m’awu!”

She wore a long oversize polka dot shirt over blue pencil jeans. The large black belt she strapped over the shirt did more than correspond with the black dots in her shirt, it allowed her shapely figure to teasingly stand out in the otherwise casual attire.

She held her long black hair in a simple pony and other than lip gloss, she had no makeup on. But the Ginny that rendered my stiff a year and a half back, hadn’t lost even an ounce of her aesthetic glory.

I was unprepared but delighted. I was vulnerable, and had to be guarded. I had to say something, but all the energy I could muster went into keeping me together and acting as unclumsy as possible.

“Ginny?”

Read the rest of this entry »

 
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2 Cupids, 1 Heart- Loving my best friend’s girl V

16 Nov

The cat napped,

The mice played.

The cat’s back,

Mice awaayyy!

*         *         *

Hehehe, my sorry attempt to say sorry :-( But is it true? that an apology is more sincere when it’s brief? Because if that’s the case paah de, then i’m sorry for the fallow period; i was re-fertilizing:-D

So here you go, the continuation of your addictively loved story (I don’t get why someone falling for his best friend’s girl piques your interest so. why is it because…lol) anyways, so from where we left off;

The more I thought about it, the more I looked forward to it; I’d see Ginny and know for sure that I was free of her haunting sweetness, of her lingering effects. Yes, this would be a liberation of sorts, and my inexplicable coldness would be needless. I could be a friend in the true sense…or I could be in for the rudest shock. I could find out that what I perceived as a complete emotional detachment was actually latent passion. Aarrrggghhhh.

These thoughts streamed through my mind as I checked in to JFK the following Thursday. My Virgin Atlantic flight was going to stop over in London and I’d be in  Ghana before the next day ended, a week before Sam was to marry Ginny. Was I ready? I don’t know.

*         *         *

My flight was smooth. By 6:45pm on Tuesday June 10th (five days before Sam’s wedding), I was sitting at the arrivals hall of the Kotoka International Airport. It was packed with Ghanaians coming home for summer and foreigners seeking oilier pastures. My head kept sticking out like a hydrogen-filled balloon, but I couldn’t see Sam.

My sorely-missed folks and Amma, my perceptive, beyond-her-years teenage sister had finally given in to waiting home for Sam to bring me before midnight. He had strongly insisted on taking me to see his new apartment in East Legon, but each minute he delayed in showing, I felt like calling Dad, or chartering a taxi. I helplessly waited, and there were few things I disliked more.

Worse was the fact that he was getting married, so he had enough get-out-of-jail-free cards to make me look bad for being upset. When 7:25pm came and he still hadn’t shown, I decided his cards were used up. I was about leaving when I heard the unmistakably sonorous voice of my best friend.

“Yo, yo yo yo waspaaappiinggg??!!!”

His demeanor was light and infectious, his smile was reminiscent of a blissful childhood, and I knew for a fact that I’d missed him. For the records, I’m not gay. In fact, I’m so straight that I could wear a g-string and still exude enough alpha-male aura to charm a nun. But when you’ve lived in a strange land for even a few months, you tend to value your childhood friends. A crowded sub-way in New York still felt lonely; everyone was invisible to everyone.

Read the rest of this entry »

 
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Love Never Stays for Breakfast

29 Sep

 I’ve been feeling pretty bad lately, that I had whet your appetite so much with the ’2 cupid, one heart’ story but hadn’t come through with the final part. The truth is, before you read a post here, it’s been proofread at least four times and has gone through several other editing procedures. It’s never flawless though, but I try.

So whilst I’m done with the draft of the final part, it still needs some polishing. And frankly, tell me, which will you rather; the smooth fluid writing you’ve fallen in love with, or a conspicuously shoddy end to the beautiful story? Thheerree you go :-) . So, I’m rising above the shyous restraint of not having fulfilled my promise to say hello to you. Plus there’s this controversial poem that you just must see.

Love is not fair to everyone. This poem’s for those it’s been unfair to. I thought I’d vent your rage and dissapointment about how fleeting the emotion sometimes is. Just when you’re thinking she might be the one, she introduces you to her boyfriend and you seem silly and needy for misconstruing her sincere ‘dears’ for anything intimate. Love is gone before breakfast’s served.

 

Love Never Stays for Breakfast

She is doing it to me again;

She’s seeing through my eyes

And wiping off my conscience.

She’s holding me still, with that look

She’s unbuttoning my emotions

Read the rest of this entry »

 
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2 Cupids, 1 Heart- Loving my best friend’s girl IV

31 Aug

“…He’s asleep o, can you imagine?…sorry I had to leave….miss you so much…couldn’t love you more than I do now…”

I cringed in the bed, it was a nightmare, and I wasn’t even asleep yet   (sigh) O life, but what doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger right? Well it sucks the life out of you before it does. The events of the following weeks were spectacular. I knew if things went on like it was, I won’t be able to take it, I might do something crazy, but as to how crazy I could get, even I was unsure.

I woke up the following morning certain of one thing; I shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near Ginny for too long. My loyalty was to my best friend, but when I was establishing that fact, I wasn’t privy to how unbridled passion could get. It didn’t matter if Sam thought I disliked her, it was better than he realizing that I was smitten by her. Ginny was like a slippery floor, and all I had on were flipflops, falling was an inevitability. I needed to get myself some thick rubber-sole wellington boots for her kind of floor, and I was hoping time and some distance would give it to me.

So I didn’t attend her birthday drink-up the following Friday, I used the exams as excuse. I ensured I was never  around when she came over to our room, and  I tried hard to not be around when Sam was on the phone with her. The most difficult thing to do was to walk past the Balme library and see her coming out, or play snooker at Tyme out and see her at the counter and not be able to talk to her. Why the heck hadn’t these chance meetings occurred anytime before Sam met her? Why had she been invisible to my eyes until she became unavailable? Why this redefinition of torture? Ahiaa wrong had I done in my lifetime to deserve this? What lesson did I need to learn in life that could only be taught this way? Would it have so fatally affected the grand scheme of cosmic events if I had met Ginny first? Would it? Read the rest of this entry »

 
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2 Cupids, 1 Heart- Loving my best friend’s girl III

23 Aug

Where we left off last week…

Herh, are you retrieving a phone or attending a drink-up? You are not wearing that” I said more out of hope than insistence

“Watch me” he said comically, then waltzed out the room like some front-teeth-missing kid modeling in his father’s tuxedo.

I’d never seen him like that. Sam, my Van Lutheran Sam. Rational, comported, razor-sharp intellect, good looking, tough-to-impress childhood buddy, putting up a circus for some level 200 girl, I couldn’t wait to see her.

If I’d known the kind of complications seeing her would have brought, I would not have been eager to, at all.

The Pool Escapade

As it turned out, I had to wait, for two full months to see Ginny. Something always came up. First, the inter-university sports competition that took me to Abuja for a fortnight. Then she was ill when I returned, and Sam was a worried wreck. Eventually, I resigned to a state of indifference. Secretly, I was worried that I might be disappointed when I saw her. Sam had hyped her so much that she had to smell of heaven from a mile off to fit the profile.

Two Saturdays before the end-of-sem exams started, Sam asked if I’ll be at the university’s Olympic-size pool that weekend. He was going to feature, and that was something because though he was a good swimmer, he hardly went with me, there was always something else to do. Something more pressing, something Ginny.

“Ginny wants to learn” he said

“Aha, explains it!”

He was to pick her up from the Pentagon hostel, so I’d meet them both at the pool. When I got there, it was half past mid-day, the sun was flying high and the water was clear, beautiful, and lascivious (Author’s note: yeeyy!! I finally get to use my new vocabulary.lol).

Read the rest of this entry »

 
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2 Cupids, 1 Heart- Loving my best friend’s girl II

16 Aug

The story you’re about to read has attracted as much public interest  as the current UK riots, which have driven some African Heads of State to make the ludicrous offer of repatriating their citizens to a safer homeland, lol.

The truth is, if you hadn’t kept calling and writing to demand the promised sequel, this would still have been trapped in my mind. So here goes the sequel to the story of how two best friends came to love one girl.

If you don’t enjoy this story, you won’t be alone, there’re many more Marsians amongst us earthlings ;-)

Where we left off…

The thing with having an uncountable number of girls on your score sheet is that in time, it gets boring. Trust me, all the lingering pleasure and ego boosts that comes from being a ladies’ man is very much temporal. At a point, it becomes routine, and the awareness that you’re a twenty-something year old guy walking around with an SSS graduate’s mindset kicks in hard. So hard you could get sucked in self-pity and disappointment about how wasted your life looks in retrospect. My kick-in came in at the worst time possible, the time Sam met Ginny. And this is where the story really begins…

A few weeks before Sam met Ginny, I’d gotten to a point where I wasn’t looking forward to when the next batch of freshers were arriving so I could make my pick. I wasn’t eager to pick the numerous calls that came through every day from girls of so many different nationalities that we could have formed some perverted kind of UN general ASSembly. Slowly and subtly, I began resenting that kind of life. I was the victim, the man whore, the gigolo, the booty call. All my friends had found meaningful relationships. One day Bob (another good friend of mine) told me Ajoa –his babe- spent the night in his room. The whole night they stayed up talking, TALKING!!! Some time back I’ll have teased and laughed, but that day, I wept within. It was clear that at the end of the day I had countless sex mates, but no one to go back home to, and that my friend, is a very sad conclusion to reach.

I was in our L 21 Legon Hall inner room watching a movie on my laptop when Sam entered wearing a smile broader than his shoulders and more colorful than a summer shirt. Ideally, he would have waited for me to get too curious to keep mute, then teased before letting the cat out of the bag, but not so this time. This time, he couldn’t wait, he just spilled it.

Read the rest of this entry »

 
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Your Boyfriend’s User Manual- the sequel

07 Jul

Ok people, this’ just a head’s up; My boss’ boss just became a fan of Goldinwords o. So that marks the end of all boss-lashings for us. If you’ve got any boss-bashing comment, inbox instead (said in whispers). lol, Sed’s cool, he knows what’s up and identifies himself as ‘young at heart’.

So on to the main course, shall we?

Your response to the first part of this post blew the roof off my expectations. This sequel is way overdue. I’m kick-starting this, by stating a hard fact. Your boy could be with you either because you’re generous with your body, he’s too lazy to start a new relationship after half a decade of being with you, he was there when your single father died tragically, so leaving you’ll be heartless. Or because he loves you dearly and wants to spend the rest of his life with you. It is possible to work your way up to the latter.

For starters, build memories. Build beautiful memories that’ll permanently etch you in his mind, even if he wills it not to. Do silly outlandish things once in a while. In F.R.I.E.N.D.S, Monica shows up in Chandler’s apartment wearing a thanksgiving turkey on her head and dancing to an Indian song. Find out what makes him laugh and do something to induce it. If you can, do several things to induce it, because there are times when a laughter-inducing memory becomes a rare gem. With me, I love accents, so when we do role plays and I’m the Ashanti bogger introducing you as my Chinese wife to my conservative family, and you do that funny forced-Chinese accent, you could crack me up big time. It shouldn’t be as often as the day comes though, that ruins it.

Few guys wear their hearts on their sleeves, but some things really touch us. Right now, I’ll tell you one thing that’ll touch even a brick-hearted guy to the core. If he calls you in the middle of the night (preferably) or sometime during the day and asks you the infamous ‘What’re-you-doing’ question and you answer “Praying hun,I was praying for you”. Myyy goosshhh!!! That’s a slam dunk! Praying for me? Of all the things you could be doing, you’re praying for my future and wellbeing? How unselfish and wifely of you, do I even deserve you??!

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Your Boyfriend’s User Manual

14 Jun

Last year, I wrote a piece titled ‘The Science of Keeping Your Man- if you want to’, well this is the rejoinder.

The guy you’re with is human. By that very fact, he’s only as complicated as a game of chess, if not less. Keeping him is really about knowing how and when to play your cards, and that brings me to my first apor (tip); the card stash.

From the day you agree to be his girl, or he agrees to be yours (depending on which side of the world you’re reading from) both of you receive an invisible deck of cards. They’re like ‘get-out-of-jail-free’ cards, and they’re limited, so I wonder why you misuse yours so. Depending on the guy you’re with, and how crazy he was about you when you started out, you might have received a hundred or a dozen, either ways wise usage is key.

If you keep going ooon and oooonnnn about something he’s already apologized for, you’ve used one, and established yourself as a nagger. If you see a suggestive text on his phone and go berserk, throw tantrums and verbally abuse him, only to find out that it was actually from his sister –who wanted advice before sending it to her boy-, you’ve used five.

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I Love Her Husband V- the epilogue

02 Jun

For a FREE copy of the electronic book format of this short story, you can click here; –>>http://www.keepandshare.com/doc/2830408/i-love-her-husband-pdf-may-25-2011-4-46-pm-334k?da=y 

Where we left off last week… 

Kobe was bursting into the restaurant at the time Trixy was walking out. They stood in each other’s way for melting moments. Trixy tried hard to keep her smile, but her tear-stained face spoke volumes. 

“Love you Kobe.” she kissed his cheek, the half a dozen diners felt the tension, and it told in their unnatural silence “Good bye.” Not see you later, What kind of a man are you? Or How could you do this to me…but Good bye. She didn’t add ‘for good’ but it lingered in her silence, and in how she turned and walked out the door. 

*          *          * 

Kobe caught up with his wife in the parking lot, but her reflexive rigidity when he tried to touch her, to reason out his unredeemable stupidity, the sternness in her eyes, the coldness in her “leave me alone”, all culminated in rendering him speechless. Like a stooge he stood by as the Honda Civic faded into two red brake lights as it revved into the distance of the windy Saturday evening. 

When he reentered the restaurant, Samaa was sitting in the same position, her hand cupping her mouth, as if holding back the wrath of God. Read the rest of this entry »

 
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