Letter for three


Dear Cyn, Genny and Enz,
I did it!
I went against your countless talks and I did it.
Was it amazing?
Yes it was! Every bit of it.

So I’m writing to tell the three of you about it. You know, our friendship reminds me of those interlinked circles we used to draw in Secondary school. I think they were called Venn diagrams. The four of us are small luminescent circles; I’m in the middle, the only connecting link between the three of you. Y’all don’t know each other but y’all know me, so yes, we are a Venn diagram.

Sometimes, I picture the four of us, like Carrie Bradshaw and her friends in that hilarious yet illuminating series; Sex and the city. I like to think of myself as Carrie and I wonder which characters y’all will play. Well, I probably have a bit of Samantha Jones in me because these past few days, I’ve been channeling her spirit. I was Samantha Jones to boot, a part of me I never knew existed.

Yes, I went against my better judgment and admonishments from my three dearest friends but then, I’m having the best time of my life. An absolutely unforgettable time. Y’all know how the breakup with Josh devastated me. I was subdued, both physically and emotionally but yours faithfully is proud to announce that she’s got her mojo back.

I will tell y’all about it in a few seconds. Just take a deep breath; I will bare it all as soon as these little post-orgasmic thrills that keep running through my body subside.

Oh, I’m back now. The thrills have subsided, at least for the moment. My brain has been sending all these post-Wale synapses through my body. It’s a wonder how I manage to stay upright without toppling.

About Wale, y’all have heard about him, but then, I was too busy letting him blow my mind slowly to really give the details. I will remedy that little glitch now.

Y’all know how it started; from Josh, my boyfriend of four years. Remember the first time I caught him cheating, sprawled on our bed, the bed I shared with him 3 days a weeks for two years now, almost joined at the lips with some girl. I had travelled to the village for my younger sister’s Introduction but then had to come back earlier than planned due to an office emergency.
He had begged and apologized for weeks. When I felt he had groveled enough, we got back together, despite all you did to dissuade me.

‘Leave his cheating ass’, Enz had yelled on the phone. She went on and on, telling me how he didn’t deserve me, punctuating her sentences with ‘Leave his ass’. The funny thing was that while we spoke, I was so convinced that I was going to leave him but my conviction died as soon as I hung up. I wouldn’t listen. I never listen. Besides, four years isn’t four hours.

I stayed. Silly, self-abusing me. One evening, three months later, a friend sent me pictures of his very lavish engagement party. At first I thought it was an extraordinarily good photo shop but then she sent me videos too. It was like a movie…a really bad movie. When I tried to reach him, he wouldn’t take my calls and then, he blocked me on other social networks. Even when I called with other lines, as soon as he heard my voice, he hung up.

The next morning, I rushed down to the house but Abdul, the security man refused to let me in.
‘Oga say make ah no enter,’ he insisted. His formerly friendly face was cloaked in hostility. I tried to wriggle my way in and he body blocked me, his smelly armpit rubbing against my face. He slammed the gate in my face and a moment later, he emerged with a small box…my box. He dropped at my feet, ‘Madam abeg dey go.’

It was a slap in the face and grabbing my box, I walked back into my car. It’s a miracle I didn’t die that day, I drove blindly, tears obscuring my vision. At intervals, I turned to eye the box with disdain. I was so sure it contained everything I had in his house, my ‘box of shame’. That day, I cried so much that I called in sick to work the next day because my eyes were swollen shut.

It’s crazy how most of the time we are architects of our own misfortune. This year alone, 70% of my single female co-workers have suffered heartbreaks. An entire 70%. I used to be on the sidelines, watching sympathetically as they worked their way out of the miry clay of heartbreak. Sometimes, I judged them, wondering why and how they didn’t see the signs. Of course there are always signs that females in our very hilarious genre of foolishness decide to ignore. It’s like a flaw in our psyche, we see a player and we picture ourselves as the one who brings him to his knees, the one who finally tames him. We bend over backwards just to be that one and sometimes, we have bent over so much that we are unable to raise our heads to smell the burning gbegiri.

I doubt our mothers suffered as much heartbreaks as we now do, perhaps it is because they didn’t give themselves away to men like we now do, like I did, silly me, spending 3 days a week in the house of a man who hasn’t paid my bride price. I had all but moved in with him. The guy don see me finish. There was no mystery or excitement left. No new terrains to discover and conquer.

Before now, I have listened to ladies describe how they went through their boyfriends belongings when he was away, I never did that. I saw it as beneath my dignity. After finding him with that girl, I turned into some kind of FBI agent. I’d furtively go searching through his wardrobe and drawers, ears alert for footsteps and heart pounding in fear. It’s a wonder I didn’t have a heart attack while doing that. During one of such activities, I found a small black box from Cartier. Heart beating a crazy tattoo, I opened the box and nestled inside was the most exquisite ring I had ever seen, the sheer size of the rock left me breathless. Smiling like a Cheshire cat, I replaced the ring and dove right for the bed. There I lay, my mind still reeling from what I had just seen.

I was overjoyed.

He wanted to engage me with that spectacular ring.

Maybe that was why he had cheated, maybe very briefly, he had gotten cold feet…people have been known to get scared and do rash things just before making important decisions such as this. I lay there, beaming broadly while I found ways to justify his cheating. I was going to pretend I hadn’t seen the ring and act all surprised when he got on his knees.

What a fool I was!

The ring had been for some other girl, the one he was cheating with.


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