Wednesday, 4 July 2012

Mrs Anonymous

Just the other day, I was roaming back & forth on facebook seeking whose status update to comment on when I stumbled on this blog-post on my friend’s wall titled Mr. Anonymous; a beautiful piece entreating guys to hurry up to propose to the ladies and not to keep them waiting forever. From the number of comments it had already, I could tell that it was a very well written piece; and it still is. Na so I click the link make I read…. (click here to read)

As I jack am finish, I start to para... Wharrafuk??! All the comments just dey support the chick and it only pissed me off further. Wetin dey worry these people sef? Didn’t nobody see the part where she slapped him? In a public place for that matter! Maka why na?? So it is now a crime for a guy to want to put a previously fat, professional church-going, 30 year old, desperate, single elderly girl out of the misery of spinsterhood?? Then to add insult to the slap induced injury, she con still say “Now be a gentleman, get down on your knees and put that rock on my finger!” On your kneeeeess??? I DON DIE!! Infact, as born-agains usually say, “I was vexed in my spirit” or “My spirit man was provoked” or “My body trembled with Holy Anger” or some other fucked up fuckery that spiros use to confer on themselves false grandiosity….. I’m sure you get my point.

Consequent upon the above stated premise, I don carry the matter for head to speak for that guy who was slapped and for all other guys out there who are being “slapped” figuratively in their relationships/marriages presently, and for those who already align themselves with my point of view, the “Boys Are Not Smiling” point of view.  So please read and be blessed…..or be pissed sef, na you sabi. Honestly I don’t gives a fak.

================================================= DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction o! All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Yesterday was supposed to be a big day for me, a day that I had been planning for months now and rehearsing over & over again like an athlete preparing for the Olympics. I was going to propose to my girlfriend of 3 abi na 4 years? I was going to ask Vero aka “Veronica for short” to be my wife and the mother of my children till death kee one of us. Giddy with boyish excitement I carefully dressed up in preparation for our date that evening; igbo hi-life music was playing in the background and Black Label was seeping into my system to augment the highness of the igbo smoked earlier on that afternoon. “Nothing will spoil my plans, everything is perfect”, I thought to myself as I swayed like a very successful spare parts dealer to my favorite tune, Eluwa Nkaa.

As I garment finish, I stopped dancing for a moment to look at the engagement ring on the dresser: a 0.75 carat round-cut diamond stunner sure to take her breath away and to make her unmarried friends incurably jealous, perhaps some of her unhappily married friends would also be jealous too. Who knows? I could just picture when I open the box and ask her to marry me…..that priceless moment when her eyes widen in surprise, a possible scream and then a resounding “Yes!” as she breaks down in tears of “joy” and hugs me tightly. Is it really joy? Abi crying na something girls must fake to make an event special? They suppose don see am for Africa Magic many times so it had to be the right response to a marriage proposal right? I for like make Vero cry that evening when she see the ring. It would make the event ‘special’ indeed and I’m sure the photographer I hired to sit covertly at a near-by table would capture these moments. 

I closed the box and put it in my trouser pocket then I lit a few scented candles because I KNOW SAY after this proposal ehnnnn, the kpekus wey Vero go give me on top this my very bed would make Jada Fire feel like a novice from the village. That na the game plan and I was more than ready for the “jigi-jigi” but for now I had a proposal to take care of. I took my keys, turned off the lights, wished my prick good luck…..and I was off to pick Vero for our date in one of these high-brow lounges wey don dey reign nowadays for Benin. All of a suddenly na lounge be the order of the day. No more Beer-Parlour, no more Bar….all na lounge where my dearly beloved Blacky - Black Label dey sell for about 18k-20k……WTF?? Because of many interior decor and AC abi? If not for the importance of this occasion, I swear nothing for consyne me with lounge before. Fuck that! To me, all this lounges na where self-deceiving, pseudo-rich marrafakas dey come to flounder in mindless show-off fuckery. Everybodi go dey waka with packaging like say dem get 10 milla for pocket then girls wey their papa na bikeman go dey waka with skimpy clothes and tattoo for breast, neck, leg or waist/yansh as if al iz well…..fakking twats. I hate plastic bitches!

See me, I don dey digress….

Anyway, we arrived at this lounge and walked straight into the candle-lit restaurant. Like I said earlier, everything had been pre-arranged. I winked at my photographer already seated at his designated table and waved at the bartender as a cue for him to bring the food & champagne. Our table was near the band stand and of course, I had tipped the musicians to play some songs that would set the mood. Everything was going according to plan. Food was served, photographer doing his job codedly and the band was playing all the right songs. I could see the effect this was having on Vero, she don soft finish. Now was the time to pop the big question. On signal to the musicians and photographer, I held V’s hand and looked deeply into her eyes.

“Baby, I love you, and each time I look into your eyes I see forever and a day, hold my hand honey, let’s walk this road together, be my wife, have my kids. I love you V, would you please marry me?”

 GBOSAAAA!!! See slap wey Vero give me?

Everyone froze….music stopped….my head spinning. I fit swear say person snap the pishure with blackberry; na straight to Facebook be dat with 600 comments before day break tomorrow. I don die! My ear dey ring, all my igbo highness clear sharply as I dey look Vero in paralysed shock.

“Babe! You just slapped me?”

“I knew it!” said Vero.

“You knew what?” – At this point, my mind cut finish. Howdefak did she find out about my side chick? I have always been careful na, I used a separate passworded blackberry with a separate facebook account for her and we didn’t have mutual friends. She’s a bloody part-time 200 level, mass-comm kpekus for Christ’s sake! I paid into her account with a false name and always tore up the receipt. We always used hotels in the zanga part of Benin…all those Upper Sakponba side or Ikpoba Hill area not GRA. It’s very unlikely that anybody has casted me. SO HOWDEFAK DID SHE KNOW??

“So it was you all along?!”

“Me? What did I do?”Chei! My beans don burn today. See as God take catch me, today of all days….

“Keep quiet and let me talk! I have waited more than two decades, I have prayed, fasted, sowed seeds, bought books and listened to tapes, even went out of my way to be nice to every male specie of marriageable age! Every saturday was a different mall, I went from the galleria to city mall, from the palms to e-center, looking for you!”

Wait, wait wait……what’s this mad cow talking about? Whish wans be two decades, fasting, prayer, book, tapes and seeds? Abi Vero don dey madt?? I even tink say she don catch me, I no know say na purge her mouth wan purge. See this idiat o!

Na so Vero just dey vomit bullshit upon bullshit per second. Click here to read the rest of her bla-bla. Finally my brethren, Vero con talk the tin wey break the camel’s back, “Now be a gentleman, get down on your knees and put that rock on my finger.” Na there my head bust! A tiny nuclear bomb went off in my head. WHAT?? Make I still kneedan after that slap and in front of all these people to put what rock on whose finger? I DON DIE! On a very good day I suppose treat this girl fuck-up right here, right now, instanta without delay but e no go make sense to play am inside dis ‘tush’ restaurant. Besides, people with 10 milla in their pockets don’t beat up their babes in public, they wait till they get home or at least inside the car before they unleash the slaps. And so I did what any gentleman would do in a no-win situation; I smiled, stood up with the deadly calm of a contract assassin and then turned to leave.

“Richard, where are you going? Come back”

I bone am waka go car, tossed the ring on the floor inside and drove quietly out into the night. I needed a drink and na only Blacky fit give me the kain highness wey I dey find. I selected Enya’s playlist on my iPod and tried to enjoy the music as I navigated towards another lounge in the zanga which I used often when I was with my kunchas. There would be plenty of time to ruminate on this matter when the shekpe is in the system. Before then I go allow Enya do the tin wey she sabi……

It was a slow night at the Zanga Lounge and it suited me perfectly cos I wasn’t in the mood for any company. I walked straight into my usual VIP section; a private booth where me, my kunchas & a few others don do many many rotten tins. My Blacky arrived as I was taking my seat and the bartender, seeing that I was alone today, asked if I wanted him to arrange ‘control’ for me.

“Not today, Bros – I just come here to reason tins”. The bartender gave an understanding nod and left the booth.

“This girl has finally broken the camel’s back. My back!!” I was determined to fuck her up in ways only the twisted can only begin to comprehend but I still needed the wise counsel of Black Label before I chose whatever course of action to follow. I then began pouring myself stiff shots of Blacky…..
Ever since Vero & I became ‘serious’... This 'seriousness' started with a visit to ‘see’ her mother (before that we were just casual fuckmates). The two of them were cutting eye for each other and giggling anyhow like teenagers who just gave their first blowjob. I no know who send me that day, WHO SEND ME??? 

Vero has gradually become one manipulative, over-bearing, controlling twat. I don’t know where she suddenly got a PhD in “Marriage-Bound Relationships” but I found myself trying to keep up in the relationship; trying not to piss her off and apologizing for whatever the fuck I did or did not do all for the sake of "peace". I had to be on time, say the right things and put up the right appearances no matter what otherwise she will start displaying an array of irritating behaviours that I conveniently call “Drama”. This idiat even had me sitting in the front row in church with her wearing the same fakking clothes!! Can you imagine?? I no longer use the iPhone bible, I now use a Jumbo Bible with dictionary & concordance because Vero thinks that the using the phone makes me a 'casual' christian. She even makes me attend weddings o!! I don die. Vero has my balls in her grip, thats all I can say about our relationship right now.
Even though she only comes to my apartment on alternate weekends, she has still changed everything in the house that once was to what it ‘should be’: from re-arranging the parlour to changing the colours of the wall paint to the drapes and bed sheets….all under the need for the place to have a “woman’s touch”. She brought her pictures and hung them all over the place and insisted that I put one in my wallet and another on the table at the office. I no talk, I no complain; I thought that was what love was all about.

Vero had tactfully infiltrated all facets of my existence sha! From mama-put to night waka to even my driving! Nobody touches my car stereo but Vero get the animal boldness to change my iPod playlist to Praise & Worship crap whenever she’s in the car.(I just had to put Christian songs in my iPod). Then there was the big argument about my playstation. “Men don’t play games”, she’d say. I still no talk, instead I carry my PS wey I buy with my own money disconnect am from my darling 42 inch LG baby in the parlour, go connect am to my 21 inch desktop PC inside bedroom AND STILL I no fit play when she dey around. What she’s calling a Playstation is actually a Nintendo Wii. I had to buy one before I pulled my tongue out of my head from the frustration of reminding her for the umpteenth time that X is pass and O is cross in FIFA 12. E better make we dey fling hand like epileptics with Wii, that way we both win.

The same tin dey happen when I go out to watch matches; I had to cut down on that one too. I watched the Champions League Final at home….in the parlour…..with her….and 2 bottles of malt. 

“I don’t like you drinking baby”.. 

Can you imagine how irritating it is to explain to someone who still doesn’t know the offside rule after a million explanations, the import of Robben missing that penalty? 

This has been my lot for the past 10 months I have been in “love”. As careful as I was not to fall into the trap of love, here I am under the bondage of this same love. Though not the “catch a grenade” type of love, this was the more scientific, mathematical approach: I add her positives, subtract her negatives and find the average….her positives were that she was ‘mature’ not old, there’s a difference; unlike stupid undergraduates and youth corpers with childish misconceptions, 29 years is mature enough to know that marriage isn’t a bed of roses, suya, icecream, club, shopping & Moet. She wasn't the type to be swayed beacuse another toaster seemed to have a bigger car, house, wallet or prick; her pussy and other bodily assets AREN'T the next best thing after sliced bread which entitled her to the finest things in life and most of all, Vero knew when to shut the fuck up. Nothing vexes me like a nagging bitch; I fit shoot am and Vero has never made me want to buy a gun......not yet.
Also Vero had a job that paid well; before V I honestly thought that all girls were broke by default and self-sufficient chicks were either married or extinct. Vero no dey ask me for recharge card, money for hair, cab, BIS, toiletries, flight…….She even had her own bloody Brazilian hair FROM HER OWN POCKET; can you believe that? A rare find indeed!! 
AND THE SEX…….JiZZoSss. Vero dey blow for state…..but then again, who no sabi fuck? Any chick with the desire and a slippery kpekus can be the next super-pornstar. We dey wipe long before I added her on facebook. Na sex start our paroles. If to say she no sabi, I for don delete her number after the 4th or 5th time I give am Postinor, idiat. Nothing extraordinary there…. Make we talk anoda tin abeg.

 Her 'bad' part was just her temper. Vero head dey quick hot and when e hot, there's no telling what she would do. Normal in-house quarrel she fit start to break plate or glass but she never one day throw anything at my flat screen tv. Dem no born her mama well! I go ask am how much be her bride-price wey she go break my tv. Crase dey pass crase na?. Sometimes it could be embarrassing; Vero don follow okada-man hold shirt once because of discrepancies in the price agreed for the ride. 20 naira difference o! Shame nearly kill me dat day. But that was Vero, she hated being cheated or used. And I'm not complaining about her 'individuality', its pretty simple; if you don't piss her off, there'd be no drama. At least Vero better pass those girls I call "Yes-Chicks"....everything na yes. Pound yam at 2am? Yes......Give me pussy after a long day? Yes....Wharrafuk? Abeg I like my Vero like dat jor!

Anyhow……The bottle was almost finished now, all my eye don tint. My head hung low and my eyes drooped till they were 'almost' closed. I was so high……
I still asked myself what I’d do. Dumping her was out of the question, I honestly cannot start going through the hoops with another idiat again. All die na die and something must kill a man….e better make I dey with Vero than with anybody else. And besides this misdemeanour wasn’t a capital offence, its probably an attitude she picked up from her friends at the salon or at church. There's a certain non-medical dementia that attacks chicks as soon as they have locked their target on a potential husband especially those that have been "waiting on the Lord" for a life-partner. This madness is compounded by jobless friends (You know where two or three jobless bitches are gathered, nothing reasonable comes out of it, right?), pastors, Africa Magic and novels; it makes the affected girl behave erratically and confused. She just needed straightening out. That’s what I’ll do; I go condition Vero so tey she go dey doubt whether she still be my fiancĂ©e or she be Covenant University student. I go clip all her wings, she dey crase!! 

I’m retrieving my balls from her vice grip. Relationships are supposed to be 50-50 but now e be like say na only 15 I get. I’m getting my balls back! If she no like am make she fade!! We never even start to live together she don dey emasculate me, If we con marry nko?? Maybe then she go slice me a kpekus with her manicure knife and make me wear make-up and Always pad. I’m getting my balls back jor, if she no like am, make she gerrat. I will survive.
“I’m getting my balls back” the sound of this vision & mission statement gave me a boldness I didn’t know existed before. 
“I’M GETTING MY B…….……huh? The whole place started to rock gently. 

“Oga, Oga, wake up. Day don break”. It was the bartender who served me last night. “Aw, fuck! I slept at the bar!! Where are my keys? My phones and wallet? I frantically searched myself over like junkie with withdrawal symptoms.
“Oga, I bin help you keep your tins as you sleep go make person no con tiff am”
“O thank you, my broda. I hail! Abeg help me bring one Red Bull then u go help me buy 2 Alabukun and 4 Panadol Extra from outside.” I gave him 5k and his face lit up in appreciation. 
“My Chairman!! I too believe you, thank you o!!” As he hurried out to get my order.
When he came, I mixed the ingredients and swallowed its bubbly contents quickly with my tablets. I called it ‘Shine Eye’, a special anti-hangover serum my friends developed as undergraduates in a Christian University when we had to return to school the next morning after clubbing with ashies the night before. That time if any spiro (born-again) as much as suspects that you have been drinking or smells alcohol in your breath, you are gone. Expelled, just like dat! You fit no even face panel sef. But as cold no dey catch fish, sharp man must find a way. 

Anyway, the caffeine overdose soon hit me and I was good to go. Got into the car and zoomed off. As I dey near crib na, see as car park for the road near my kabam, people just gather as if they dey do reception. I don already know wetin carry dem come so I jus smile as I park one side dey waka into the compound.
“Brother Richard, thank God you are back. Where have you been?” 

I bone all of them. No be their fault. If not for Vero wey dey make me go church, how these idiats for take know my name? I walked into the living room and there was Vero on her knees surrounded by Pastor and some other ‘strong’ prayer warriors, "Kabashing".
“Shantaraba rebe robo skobo lobo skibo boko gbish gbish bla bla bla………” I just dey look dem.
*cough* “Excuse me?” I said interrupting the freeflow of jibberish. 

They turned towards me, the anger of being disturbed while praying soon changed to gladness that God had “brought” me back from wherever the devil took me too last night. The pastor bin wan shout “PRAAAISSSE  THE L……..?”

“Abeg abeg pastor, carry your cacophony outside, I have a headache”

“But Brother Richard….”
“I said GET OUT!! IDIAT”

Na so all of dem scamper, remaining Vero, still on her knees sobbing. She probably cried all night cos now they were no tears left, just sobs so great they looked like hiccups, her lovely bulbous 38D boobs jiggling slightly with each sob. Frankly she looked cute like a lost child at the mall looking for her mummy with melting ice-cream in her hand and tears mixed with phlegm all over her face.

“Awwwww, look at my baby”, I thought to myself. I felt like rushing to her, scooping her up, squeeze her boobs to my chest and tell her it would be ok maybe even shedding a few tears in the process. What can I say? It’s a weakness of mine, I don’t like my girls crying. I can’t stand it. I could give an arm, a leg, a kidney to make them stop…… but today would be different. I gats to set shit straight. I need my balls back. I just bone face and quickened my pace towards her. 
“Richie baby, I’m sorry I over-reac……” Vero started to cry.
“Save it abeg. Let me warn you, the next time u try this rubbish I will disable you. Do you hear me?” She whimpered a defeated yes, boobs still jiggling.
“And there’s going to be a lot of changes in this relationship from here on out. First things first, if you know anything you have rearranged, changed, moved, removed, modified or thrown out you better put dem back as dem be before. Even up to that bloody pink paint abi na fuchsia you call am wey u paint for kitchen, u better change it back to as e be before” **Another nod**
Your ring is somewhere in the car. Check on the floor under the front seat. If you wan wear, you wear. If you no wan wear leave am for me. On Monday I go return am use the money take buy washing machine.” Mtcheeeeew….. I hissed and walked away leaving her there on her knees wondering what the fuck just happened. 
And then I turned back “Ehen, tell those miscreants you brought from the church that if I wake and see anybody still in THIS HOUSE?………until then sha”. And then I went upstairs


Ladies I dey use God take beg you, no dey raise shoulder for us as if you dey do us favour to marry. Make I tell una: e no get wetin u get to offer as wife wey other girls, playstation, AC car with sound system, a full wallet and fast internet connection no fit do for us guys. Na society just demand make man marry otherwise we are quite comfortable with these things. Shey una dey hear??