The call.

I returned the call I was supposed to. First, to give you a background. M(his name) is the brother of a friend. We were mutual friends on Facebook and once I went for a poetry slam in Lagos at freedom park and he spotted me. That was very weird that he approached me. It seemed ‘stalkery’ to me and I said as much. He told me to imagine if he didn’t talk to me and then brought it up in conversation on Facebook. I agreed that was weirder and then we started talking. First thing I hated about him was he talked slowly in this Igbo father way, not in a sexy Sly Stallone way. The next thing was that he wasn’t funny. On the plus side, he seemed like an attainable version of his brother who I had a crush on but due to unforeseen circumstances (his momentary inability to figure out the workings of a condom while pounding that girl), he is now off the market at 23. After we talked and I gave him my number, I went back to school and I saw 4 missed calls. Thank God i gave him my alternate. That’s how one boy would just be disturbing me at school. He has since called me a round 30 times and it felt like a thousand. Most of the time, I answered and this is usually what I say;
Sorry, can I call you back? I’m on call
Sorry, can I return later? I’m in class
I’m in theatre.
I’m giving notes to someone
I’m running
I’m fucking someone.
I’m cooking
I’m petting an ostrich

I finally found the manners my mother taught me and returned the call and this is how it went
M: You…called!!
N: I did. I’m sorry that..
M: You…called. That…is…enough, the past,…is the past.
At this point I’m thinking, why am I doing this. This is just going to give him hope but my momma’s voice in my head said “Go on!”
N: You’ve been calling tirelessly, ┬┐que pasa?
M: What’s that mean?
N: Never mind, how are you?
M: I’m good now. I just wanted to know how you were doing?
So he called me 30 times
N: So you called me 50times
M: It wasn’t…up…to…50. I called…31…times
I missed one
N: you counted too
M:I…am…going…back…to…the…UK…soon,…I…just…wanted…to…know…where…we…stood. You see, I…like…you…and…I…thought…we…had…a…good…time…then…I…went…home…and…you…won’t…talk…to…me.
N:I told you I was busy. I gave you reasons.
M: You…could…not…have…been…doing all…those…things.
I know what is on his mind
N: Oh but I was
M: You were petting an ostrich?
Interestingly, his slur was gone. Marks for tact but bring it home.
N: Yeah, I have weird friends
M: You were sleeping with someone?
He shoots he scores.
N: I was
M: Erm…okay. Why would you do that? Having sex outside marriage is a sin.
N: Umm
M: So you didn’t pick my call because you were fornicating.
N: Okay, this seems like a good place to cut the call before you go ahead and call me a whore.
M: If it walks like a duck…
N: Wow, okay. First of all, fuck you. Second, I know your brother and his reason for getting married at 22. Third, I fucked your brother and you’re just getting butthurt because you don’t have a chance. Which is incidentally why I called before I chose to say hello. Have a nice life.
He called back a minute later
M: Hello
N: Drop dead.



A friend of mine said to me: Weird shit always happen to you, you should start a blog. I have done this blog thing before but medical school is a jealous mistress and you can only juggle so much unless you’re curious about failure. Anyway, here it is. My thoughts. I find that I have nothing special to write today because I didn’t go out. The bulk of the blog will chronicle my journey to find love. I am 22 and I’m in love with love. I love the idea of it. I love the way it makes me feel even if it’s for a short while. It just, you know, isn’t that into me. I’m usually sat on my bed daydreaming about the horizontal tango I’ll dance with my husband. He ain’t here yet though. I’ve been dancing with the wrong men. In between, I’ll tell you other weird shit that happen to me on the streets of Lagos. It’s 11:15pm on a school night and I haven’t read anything today. I have a total of 3 things to do tonight. I have to return a call which I’m dreading, I have to crawl through this valley of African giant rats in order to take a shower tonight and then I have to read. Until i’ve got something new to write, g’night.