Hey boys, I’m paying a tribute to all the lovely male souls that read this column, I get feedbacks and messages through the boss and it’s really nice and gratifying, danke. It would be lovelier if you commented on the blog itself –just saying. So here goes:
I’m a girl’s girl, I love love, I love romance and all the in-betweens (don’t pay any attention to those saying that I’ll beat my boyfriend up one day, none of the accusations levied against me are true, for real), whether it’s being friends with a guy or being in a relationship I still want to be treated like a lady. But while I love to be spoilt silly, I also prefer not to be treated as someone whose cerebral hemispheres are made of cotton balls, I’m sure even Margaret Thatcher had her own inner little princess but she was no less one of the greatest Prime Ministers Britain ever had. Now to today’s story.
Once upon a time, I posted a comment to something I saw on facebook, it was a post about friendship and trust, I wrote a mini-essay about how I think trust is different from expectations, anyways, this guy saw it and liked it and so he sent me a message, we exchanged contact information and this lead to one of the funniest interactions that I’ve ever had with another human in my entire life. Now I never post funny stuff on facebook, not because I can’t, just that I use it for more serious things like my poems and articles and getting in touch with old acquaintances when I need to, so I expect that whoever would see yours truly’s timeline and decide to get in touch should be someone with aim and a certain measure of intelligence and not someone who reasons with their gluteus and talks through their anal orifice (no, it’s not yab, just common sense talk). I prefer a ‘full’ conversation instead of the ‘have you eaten?’ type (BTW, if you’re not giving me food, thunder will fire the phone you use to type that question to me I swear) and I thought I actually kinda give off that vibe when you get in touch with me, alas, I was piteously wrong, anyways, things went downhill and I politely stopped conversing with the brother, thinking he’d get the hint and stay away but nah, he had to ask the “are you pissed at me’ question to which I answered no, ‘we just have very little in common’. I think he took it a bit too personal because when I told him goodbye dear, he told me not to ‘dear’ him. Egbami ke, I was only trying to soften the blow I gave to him ni o, I thought I’d tender my case before you guys so you can be the jury. So here’s what I experienced:
• Furst of all, introduction
Honestly, I admire the bravery guys have to actually walk up to a lady to introduce themselves and even start a conversation, kudos to the girls who chop that kind liver too, I dey hail o but err, mans gat get game ooo my brothers because I can tell if I’m going to be bored halfway through a conversation with the way you introduce yourself, which one is ‘my name is lagbaja tamedu, I’m a student of…, studying…, I come from…’, calm down, ain’t nobody asked you to recite your cv bro, besides, this reminds me of those compositions we were made to write in primary 1; write an essay on myself. I’d have preferred a more roundabout route, something like … I saw the article you wrote on a blog or, did you by any chance go to so so so place or you look really pretty, you know something that generally encourages a response because that’s what conversations, are meant to be; call and response.
• You’re almost as tall as I am
Seriously, never let these words come put of your mouth to a tall girl you’re chyking, it’s a total put off, I’m a tall girl, I know.
Guys, c’mon, you can’t call someone and talk at – because ‘to’ doesn’t even apply in this situation – the person throughout the entire phone call, at least give me a chance to reply you now, and calling me to give me motivational talks when I never asked for it, don’t you think that’s a little too much? Don’t call me and have a conversation with yourself, if all you’re hearing is grunts, yes and no or I don’t even talk at all, maybe stop to see if I’m following yeah.
• Have you eaten?
Please, I beseech you with everything that holds us in place on the surface of the earth – which is gravity basically – if you don’t have some hot starch and banga waiting for me somewhere, don’t ask me if I’ve eaten, my village people will not be happy with you and they might decide to come after you, thanks.
• Daddy figure
So as my story goes, I found out we happened to have a mutual acquaintance, someone who works in my citadel of academic pursuit (I could just say my school, but where’s the fun in that?). that’s how uncle – whom I am chatting with for the first time by the way – tells me that he has contacted the person – whom I absolutely cannot tolerate – to ask about me, not only that, he also told me that he asked the person to take care of me; say it with me my brothers: noooo, naahhh, nada, nehi, nien, rara, iro, this is not done, I repeat it is not done.
• Flawless flaws
I have a fake smile and a genuine smile, everyone does I think, my genuine smile is gummy so I rarely use it in pictures, I however took a picture showing my completely happy laughing skinny beautiful self with my gummy smile, imagine the drama that followed, this guy in all his medical glory decides to ask for my genotype (I’m a very healthy woman with a very normal genotype, thanks for the concern), because I had –wait for it – the gnathopathic sign! (for those who don’t know what I’m yapping on about, the gnathopatic sign it is one of the typical signs of people with sickle cell disorders). Like what?! I’d never been bemused in my life, lmao, I live around people who are themselves in the medical profession and I’ve never been told such a thing. The crowning glory came when he went on to say I’m beautiful the way I am. In fact ehn, I laughed and laughed because I’d never met a more obtuse bloke in my short existence, I guessed he was trying to prove to me that he was knowledgeable, but mehn, did he go about it in the wrongest of ways.
The last straw on the camel’s back was one of the most idiotic question known to writers everywhere, the ‘is it from experience’ question. Biko, is it your business, how e take concern you if I dey write from experience or experiment? The thing pain me no be small, that’s how I decided that all this insult is enough, na mama born me too, person pikin no deserve this kin thing wey I dey chop,so I just told him his question was very rude and I archived the chat immediately.
I think I tried putting up with him, but then did I do anything wrong by telling him we had nothing in common? I’d love to know.
With all my love,