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Ade's Journal Part 6

Ade's Journal Part 6
My Valentine & The Elegance Of A Clean Breakup

Ade's Journal Part 5

Ade's Journal Part 5
My Scrumptious Valentine Kiss

Ade's Journal Part 4

Ade's Journal Part 4
A Scorpion is not a Lobster

Ade's Journal Part 3

Ade's Journal Part 3
My Insane Week Before Valentine

Ade's Journal Part 2

Ade's Journal Part 2
He Had The Guts To Come Back

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Friday, 12 February 2016

He Had The Guts To Come Back


    'Hey, see me, see trouble o. Can you just imagine? That I should forgive, nonsense and ingredients'.
If you don't know the story, let me update you? Jeje ooo, I was on my own, no relationship, no wahala. I was an innocent lamb waiting, Hopping childishly over an invisible puddle, with the usual worries. What would I eat and what simple basic needs do I need? Just me skipping and living happily,

I didn't even have to sing. I felt lighter by the minute and even if I had to do the same thing over and over again it didn't matter. I knew eventually, another sweet lamb would hop close and join me.
    I was not desperate and as my career grew I was not in a hurry. In fact, I blame Khadijatu......

    She is the one that put me into this mess. She said I was not social and that clubbing once in three years didn't count. You can't blame me, the noise in the club is too loud and then bodies touching me is not my idea of fun. Yes, I am that annoying girl that will go to the club and just sit down and slowly sip on one glass cup of Pepsi and Hennessy. I like the mix, and of course fill it up with loads of ice that melts and dilutes the drink further.

I digress a bit.

   My friend dragged me, this time to a PR Company end of year party, thank God. It was not that noisy and the jokes from the MC were so recycled, I lost interest. It didn't help that I was not a heavy drinker, so I got bored quick. I pretended to receive a call and was about to escape out of the party when he stopped me.

   Yes, Frank stopped me. He had these deep brown eyes that just dug under my skin and his dark shiny skin looked good. Deliciously dashing, my mind danced to us, imagining two perfect pieces of rich succulent cake....

    I almost asked him what moisturizer he.... He laughed and in a micro second, ran his fingers down his sideburns and a beard that was not there. I didn't say a word but he knew he looked good and was pruning.

As quickly as I was turned on, I got turned off. I knew his type.

    He didn't touch me or hold me back, thank God. Because these young men of today don't know bounderies and don't have any ounce of manners. But Frank was different. He walked me to my car and just chatted, he works from Lagos and I sighed heavily. You know them, those fast talking guys that come around, hoping we Abuja girls will fall for their tired old bullshit.

    Surprisingly, he was funny and single and asked me to just give him thirty minutes at the party. Who has time? Just as I was about to drive off, Khadijatu caught me; 'Sheet!' Frank fell down laughing, he didn't know someone as uptight as I was, used swear words. Khadijatu knew him from Lagos, he was an old schoolmate. As they both watched me, I knew they believed I was predictable.

   Really what was I going back home to do? Feed my overgrown Caucasian dog, watch CNN's new's hour and then watch a rerun of the Khadasian's. Really, I had to jump off the spinning wheel of my tired boring life.

    At the party, Frank was popular, all the staff from Abuja, Jos, Kano and Kaduna liked him and the girls flirted. He ignored them and faced me squarely. Typical bad boy routine. I did not stress myself, my eyes danced about the room at the top five graying men. My type, traditional men that were more refined. They treated all women with respect and a balance of attention, no games.

   I was blending perfectly well with a regional manager who lost his wife a year ago and was about toask me out when, Frank barges into the conversation. I could have killed him on the spot.

    Another manager got a hold of my-fine-wine and I was stuck with this buffed young man that looked like the man in that picture.... Em, the Nigerian in the 'Nigerian jollof Vs the Ghanian jollof' picture....
I really feel guilty saying this, but the picture makes me laugh. Frank then asked why I had given up on love; chai, life is unfair. This same sneaky bastard had me from the word go. He had set a deadly trap for me, and I was clueless.

    Let me just continue, shaa.... He said he had noticed I only went for old baba's. Khadijatu didn't help matters, only God knows if he had paid her self. I received a lecture on why, I should go for age appropriate guys. Frank was five years older but I pegged him at my age. He took offence, stating that because he was friendly did not mean he was...
   I helped him finish his sentence with my own version of his ego, 'loose'. He took offense again, that I describe men like a man. I laughed. He was intrigued and declared me his wife. He would chase me to hell and back just to get me. Hehn, another clue. Why the reference to 'hell'?

  Call me superstitious, but the signs were there. I was just a project to him.

  Fast forward, two years; after realizing I was living at the heartbreak hotel, I checked out. Now Frank sent me a Facebook message with his real account, like I care.


   He feels guilty about what he did to me and wants my precious, padlocked in one underground vault, forgiveness. The message was going well until he accused me of witchcraft.

See me see wahala ooo.

   He said they had not been able to conceive and his pastor said he should beg who he offended. Real 'Home Video' moment and not in a comical good way. The audacity. So, now eh.... What will you do if you are in my shoes? Because if I reply eh... No comment.

I decide to delete, block and report him to Facebook, because now I know.

The devil is a liar.

   Lagos is noisy and I have to make new friends all over again. But the best thing happened this past month. I met, 'my regional manager'. Not mine personally, but the one, Frank rudely interrupted. A former naval officer and a complete gentleman and the icing on the cake, a topnotch Consultant for the PR Company.

My one and only, Mr. H.

  When I told him I thought he was a regional manager, he laughs hard. Said I was distracted by the young man with me, two years ago. I told him he was a married man and Mr H said it was my learning curve. How very mature, see why I like :)

  A month later and we are closer, I have met his friends and cross check their stories in the moment and when I get home. I have found out about his consulting and have made friends with his former and current colleagues. Some he knows and others he doesn't.

   Yes I have become an investigative journalist that researches and double check things. So far, he's alright but I'm taking my time. Wouldn't you?

  See, I've even forgotten what I wanted to gist you jare.

   Frank didn't stop there, he had the guts to come back, barge in on me, unexpected. How? Let me gist you....
  My boss wanted me to give him feedback on a marketing project i was handling. Guess who was making my boss laugh so hard that he was crying? My first instinct was to run away, but i knew it would only make Frank look good. So I took a deep breath and slowly shot the door behind me. My boss introduced Frank as his cousin's wife, his in-law. I shook his hand and gave my report. On my way out Frank rushed to my car and I jumped. Really, is this now a stalker situation, or what?

   Frank begged me and explained his wife arm wrestled him to church, that the pastor was siphoning her for all their savings and had made his house to be some hunted house with strange incense, candles burning left and right. He added that he knew I would not be that gullible and he missed me.

I saw the hand movement before it touched my arm.

' Hold ya sef!', my pitch was higher and louder than I had anticipated.

'How is any of this, my business?'

   He bought the ring and made the vows, he can stalk me all he wants. But I'm sharper than that and I watch Investigation Discovery. I picked my phone and pretended to call, but I was recording.

' Don't talk to me, don't call me or approach me, you are a married man and we are not friends'

Did he listen? Noooooo.

    Irecorded thirty good minutes, time spent trying to get out of the conversation and into my car. I had to tell him, I would make an official complaint, if he continues to harass me. He laughed and said I was joking, that he knew I loved him so I would come back to him. I proceeded to tell him, I had fitted my car with a recording device and would upload all his conversations on YouTube, if he didn't stop. He laughed and used style to leave, naija sense. Whether he believed me or not. I liked the idea. And I'm going to call the Youtube channel, 'how to detect harassment and stalking 101'.


    As I got into my car, I felt good. I watched him walk away confused, the idiot thought I would give him gist for his beer parlor bodies. Who has time? Mr. H is calling me jare, there is a dinner with some of his polo bodies. My kind of crowd. Let me let you all go for now, ah, ah.

Wait o, what the hell is Frank doing......

**Season 1, Episode 2**
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1 comment:

  1. When that ugly relationship dares to raise its head and say.. let's try again. What do you do?


Adebusola Ukayat Elegbede is a Playwright and Content creator with a passion for real life challenges. Born in Kaduna state and lives in Lagos Nigeria, she has a passion for story telling from the perspectives of characters in conflicting situations. I started out on the New Writing Project in Nigeria with the British Council Lagos Nigeria and The Royal Court Theatre, Sloane Square U.K. My passion for creating stories led to comic books, television drama's and an online journal on my website (busolaelegbede.com). As part of the WPIC in Stockholm Sweden 2012, the experience has forged life long friends and ignited my passion as a volunteer and advocate for human rights and the United Nations 17 Sustainable Development Goals.

Follow @Busola Elegbede