Careless? (Part 4)

Things took a different turn almost immediately after that…Bimbo started to avoid me. He would come up with reasons why he couldn’t spend time with me on and off campus. It seemed he just wasn’t into me anymore but I didn’t want to believe that, there was no way he could do that to me…he was too nice for such or so I thought.

It had been almost a month of our hide and seek when a girl in our class asked me out of the blue, if truly I slept with the class governor.

I was more confused than shocked and asked what she meant. She informed me word was going round that Bimbo got to sleep with me as payback for embarrassing him about a year before then.  He had sworn to get back at me and the perfect revenge was to get between my legs. He promised to do whatever it took to make it happen…and he had been bragging to his friends that he didn’t only accomplish this, he did it 3 times, both home and away. I learned he was even referring to me as “3-shots”

I must have pinched myself hard to check if I was dreaming or not…I had to get out of there as fast as I could to avoid crying in public. I managed to hold the tears till I got into my room and the floodgates opened.

How could I be so stupid?

How could I have let my guard down so easily?

I hated myself for what I had done…

After all the checks that I put in place so as not to fall victim to any man, I didn’t only fall…I arranged the fall on my own and tripped myself.

It took a lot of courage for me to go back to class. I had stayed away for over a week but this time Bimbo didn’t show up

When I finally caught up with Bimbo some days later, he was under a tree by the buttery. I was furious and went on and on about the things I heard things on campus about us.
In my heart of hearts, I was hoping he would deny it or blame it on the loquaciousness of one of his friends or hall-mates. BUT he was not even sorry…as a matter of fact, he told me point-blank

“That’s how you deal with big-mouth girls. Nothing humbles a woman than knowing she gave it up cheap and for nothing” and then was going to walk away.

“God will judge you” I managed to say.

He looked at me and laughed scornfully, and then he mimicked my “moaning” sound, then laughed hysterically and left me standing alone.

If I was a witch, I would have killed him on the spot. I felt so cheap, dirty and worthless. When I got home, I looked in the mirror and told myself

Never again…never again will a man take me for a ride

Never again will I fall victim

Never again will a man take me for granted

Never again will a man be in charge

Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me

My regret and anger were the perfect condiments needed for my hate concoction…and men would have to swallow every drop of it.

The way I lived my life for thereon, I would have been tagged a lesbian if it was a common thing back then.

I shared my experience with Auntie Titi (We were that close) and she felt my pain…however, she told me the game of love is not played that way because what hurts you is also what heals you. I remember saying love should keep the healing as long as it held on to the hurt too.

Auntie Titi never stopped encouraging me even in my obstinacy…she shared some of her own experience but I was not ready to test the waters again. She used to say I would come around at some point.

“All it takes is the right guy and all this fake anger will disappear

Or are you not going to get married? You better don’t let your Uncle hear that one”

I told her I wasn’t even sure I wanted to…but would let the future decide that.

It was right around this time that my biological father started to reach out, he chose the worst time of all and I just didn’t want to hear it. I was done letting men come in and out of my life at will. I had become the gate keeper of my heart and I already tossed the keys.

In my third year, there was this other guy that wanted to date me…he didn’t care that I was snobbish and extremely rude to him. He would say “Àgò ló máa dé adìyẹ last” (you will give in ultimately).

I tried to shut it down many times; as a matter of fact, I took my rudeness to a whole new level just to get him off my back but he kept coming. He would come almost every other night to see me and say the same things over again. He wanted to know why I wouldn’t give him a chance and if I could give a valid reason, he would leave me be…however, he was the one to determine the validity of the reason. The few times I responded, I told him I didn’t owe him, or his kind, any explanation.

There were times I didn’t even open the door to receive him...but he kept coming. I made it a point of duty not to remember his name. In my mind, I programmed him as “Mr. Àgò”.

He was very funny and jovial but I never laughed; other girls at my hall loved him because of this and I’m sure they must have thought I was crazy but I could care less.

He offered to come check on me, at home, during one of our breaks but I promised to pour pepper-infused water on him if he dared to. He sensed I could do it and I guess that made him think twice.

He kept at this for almost a year and a half until it was time for our finals; he came to see me one last time and told me he had promised himself to marry a good girl and knew that behind the mask of anger, I was a good girl and he would marry me.

I scoffed at the statement and asked how he intended to marry someone that wouldn’t even date him. He responded that life had its way of making things happen. He begged me to agree to a deal…if our paths crossed again and I wasn’t married, I would agree to marry him.

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Picture Credit (c) noqta.info

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental   

© 2018 Lanre Olagbaju All Rights Reserved

Careless? (Part 3)

I continued like this till I got to the University and met Bimbo. He was my course mate and the class governor. Of course, we didn’t start off as friends…I used to see him as egoistic and appallingly arrogant…like the position got into his head and made him feel like he was a tad higher, in status, than other students.

The day he crossed my path, because of an assignment that was due, I lashed out and gave him a, strongly-worded, piece of my mind. To my surprise, he didn’t say a word…he was as shocked as other members of our class that were present. I remember someone saying jokingly “Kí la gbé, kí lẹ jù” (that’s overkill). I could care less what anyone thought; as far as I was concerned, I had set a boundary that no guy in the class should ever cross…I used Bimbo to send the message home.

About a month later, I took ill…it was typhoid fever and I had to spend a couple of days at the health center. I had just been discharged and was resting when someone knocked at my door.
It was Bimbo...

I was too tired to frown or even put up an attitude and it was obvious he had rehearsed the scene.

He quickly told me how he found out where I lived and why he came.

He had noticed I was not in school for two days, which was strange and we had a test scheduled for the next day. He knew I could not afford to miss it because the lecturer was known for his strict “no make-up test” policy. The lecturer already warned us, during his first class, that if anyone missed his test there was no way they could pass his course.

Bimbo also had some photocopied pages for me…the lecturer had given some tutorial questions to the class and they figured his test questions would come from them. Bimbo also brought the answers they got when the whole class worked on the questions, so I could study them.

I didn’t know how to thank him…he broke through all the defenses that I had spent years building, with a singular act of kindness. The fact that he didn’t have to do it made it more meaningful, especially going by how I had treated him in the past.

That was how we became very good friends…we were so close that he even visited me at home at the end of that semester. It was a big surprise, I never gave him my home address either…I was running errands for Aunty Titi, got back and met Bimbo in the sitting room, drinking from a bottle of Coca Cola. I was surprised alright but at the same time happy to see him…as hard as I pressured him; he never disclosed how he got my address.

Uncle Taiwo found it hard to believe when he returned and was told that a boy visited me.

I remember him teasing me
“So a man can actually get through to you?

Tell that boy he has a future in either marketing or as a mediator with United Nations.

He must have been a lion tamer in one of his earlier lives”.

I had come to see and know a different side of Bimbo...very caring, thoughtful, gentle, kind and smart. I knew I was falling for him…however, he never really asked me out. It was like a relationship that we never defined. The weird thing was that Bimbo never made a move on me, which made me appreciate him more.

When it happened, I kind of orchestrated it. Bimbo came to my hostel for tutorials…it was a few weeks to our second semester exams and I was struggling with a particular course. Mathematics was never my thing but Bimbo wasn’t only good at it, he knew how to explain it to Math-dumb students like me.

He was sitting on my bed and explaining the steps to solving one of the problems…I sat next to him and leaned in.
I knew I was “brushing” him but I acted like it was nothing…after all, he was my unofficial boyfriend. He was uncomfortable at first or maybe he was trying to understand what was happening as well or maybe the fact that I didn’t seem to care gave him the courage.

The Math problem that had been giving me nightmares…explained and understood in 15 minutes? Wow!

I gave Bimbo a full-body hug and pecked him on the cheek…he looked at me, grinned and tried to return my peck but I moved my face and met his lips with mine. It was intense and a new, yet wonderful, experience all over my body.

The kiss must have been on for about 2 or 3 minutes…I didn’t want it to stop. I moved in closer and literally merged my body with his as I was wriggling with passion.

Bimbo started to fidget around my bosom…I could tell he wanted to touch but wasn’t sure what my reaction would be. So I guided his hands till they were positioned accordingly. That was all I remembered until we got to the point where I knew it was too late to turn back

“Wait, wait…it’s my first time” I managed to say as I withdrew a little and pulled my blanket to cover up. I had no idea I was that naked.

“I’ll be gentle” Bimbo responded as he reached for his wallet and brought out a condom.

I was confused and wondered why he had a condom handy…he quickly added that condoms were distributed, earlier, on campus as part of the ongoing Nigerian Medical Students' Association Week activities.

“They had a lecture on HIV and insisted that everyone should take them (the condoms)…including girls. If you were at LT1, you would have been given as well”

The explanation made sense to me so we got back to business and that was how I lost my virginity to Bimbo. I had heard stories of girls that cried afterwards…I didn’t. Somehow, I wanted it to happen…I felt good about it and although it was very awkward at the beginning, I was never really sad.

We slept together about three more times; one was even at his hostel. Somehow, we didn’t talk about what we were doing; I didn’t see a reason for it.

Must it have a label for us to know what it is?

We had signed the deal…the feeling was mutual, the chemistry was there, the sex was passionate (except for the first time) and I was in love…after all, actions speak louder than words.

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Picture Credit (c) Citifmonline

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental   

© 2018 Lanre Olagbaju All Rights Reserved

Careless? (Part 2)

My Parents

Uncle Taiwo and my mum were twins…they were orphans as at the time I was old enough to know I didn’t have grandparents.

He has always been there for me, for as long as I can remember. I must have become his responsibility right around the time my mum took ill and was hospitalized.

I moved in with him and his wonderful wife before I was 8 years old…after my mum died from the strange illness.

I never really knew my father; he had traveled abroad before my mum realized she was pregnant.

They were dating, back then but he didn’t inform my mum of his travel plans. She had gone to break the pregnancy news to him and was shocked to discover he left the country a few days before her visit. 

Every effort to locate his family members fell through…all my mum knew about him was that he came from the old Bendel state to work in Lagos and they met at Kingsway, where my mum worked.

They had only been dating for less than a year, and she had not met any member of his family members, when this happened. His friends that could help quickly dissociated themselves from the drama and wouldn’t give any information.

I was told that my mum contemplated an abortion but Uncle Taiwo was vehemently against it…and had to promise he would take care of and raise the child if necessary.

He used to tell me he did that because he was scared of losing the only family he had and also considered the baby an addition to their frail clan.

All my mum had for memory, apart from me, was a somewhat blurry picture she and my dad had taken together; at the Bar Beach, with one of those vintage Polaroid cameras that printed pictures instantly…I still have the picture.

This same Uncle Taiwo, after my mum’s death, took on the role of both parents; he sponsored me through school and even threw a big wedding for me.

His wife, Auntie Titi, would have passed for my mother…reincarnated, if only she was born after my mum’s death.

I call her mom because that’s exactly who and what she has been to me. She never for once made me feel like I was not one of her own. As nice as my uncle was, she was twice as nice and kind to me.

I never bore my father’s last name, I kept my mum’s maiden name which made a lot of people, that we got to know later, believe I was Uncle Taiwo’s first daughter and of course, I look so much like him.

My mind took a detour and I imagined how devastating this news would be for my dear Auntie Titi. This new route plunged me into a place of deep darkness and emptiness.

She also had an idea of what I had been going through but you already know - I still kept some details from her.

The doctor returned and that was enough to get my attention. He asked to speak with my uncle in his office and they went in together. Uncle Taiwo wanted Pastor Austin to come with them so they left me to continue on my mind journey.

Back to my biological father, he later reached out about 12 years after my mum passed; he found out from one of his old friends that he had a daughter and wanted to reconcile.

For me, it was too late…I had shut that door and never wanted to open it again. Uncle Taiwo spoke with him a few times but I never did…he tried to convince me to forgive him but I didn’t want to hear it and he didn’t force it.
It was, however, a sad day…when I finally decided to call my dad. I had given my life to Christ and learnt about forgiveness. Unfortunately, my dad had died a week before my call…I cried my eyes out. It was not because I wanted to bond with him but because I rejected him, I rejected his plea for forgiveness and I never got another chance to fix it.

It hurt even more, when I was told his only regret in life was that he never made up with me and he died mumbling that, with tears in his eyes.

I was the only child he had because he married a white lady that didn’t want children. They didn’t bring his body home, so I never got to see him or where he was buried. That experience transformed my stubborn heart and taught me patience and gentleness.

Before then I was always angry at men (except for Uncle Taiwo and his two sons) and never wanted anything to do with any guy. If a guy smiled at me, he would get a real tongue lashing.

Back in Senior Secondary School, there was a boy that told other students he had kissed me; the rumor got to me and you would think I caught him putting poison in my food, the way I reacted. There was no derogatory word in the dictionary that I didn’t call him; I even went as far as slapping him in front of the whole class…a boy almost twice my size. I’m sure he would have beaten me blue black but it was obvious I didn’t care and the fact that he lied must have held him back.

I got into fights a lot and it was always with boys; at school, in our neighborhood, even at our church. There was a time I had to change school to avoid expulsion.

Uncle Taiwo used to call me Queen Debra (a popular female wrestler back then) and coincidentally, my middle name is Deborah.

Auntie Titi always advised me to calm down, she would say something like “If you close your eyes because you do not want to watch the evil people’s procession...you may miss the good people’s parade” but my motto was “Don’t talk to me, don’t smile at me, I don’t want to be your friend”

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Picture Credit (c) Youtube

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental   

© 2018 Lanre Olagbaju All Rights Reserved