Strange Love: I Know He Is Another Woman’s, But I Can Die For Him
The doorman of the posh eatery where I had gone to get some small chops and fresh apple juice was nowhere to be found that I had to struggle with the door for me to be able to make an exit with my purse and the polythene bag containing my loot all in my hands. It was an awkward moment for me. When I looked ahead of me, I saw the reason why the doorman was not at his duty post. He was helping a revered customer with packing his car – a function which wasn’t his – out of over-zealousness.
My anger swelled up inside my heart that I had to puff out hot air in quick succession. I was about to hurl my piss at the doorman when all of a sudden, an embodiment of male masculinity in Adonis definition walked out from beside his Range Rover Sport with his right hand extended toward the doorman holding some crisp one thousand naira notes. I did a double take. He is what he is. A man with a large heart and pure beauty in masculine mould just the way I have always fantasized about my future husband. He would not be less than thirty-five.
I nearly lost my step when his eyes lazily swayed to my approaching figure as I did my best not to fall off my high heels. My heart was beating in wild ecstasy as I quickly conjured up a picture of him checking me out, as in, toast me. My face on its own volition lighted up in smiles. You know that kind of smile women adorn once they see a worthy aristo? Yes, but not exactly the kind of smile I was noticing on my face. This one was coming from within and assured me that love could be knocking on my doors. I winked inwardly as I continued to glow within and without.
When we had walked pass each other, something was pushing me to look back but my pride wouldn’t let me, instead I saw myself praying that we do that mutually so as to convince me that we have a future together.
Trust my Brazilian hair, it was being mesmerized by the August-break gusty afternoon Lagos wind and I was feeling like some advert girl on teevee commercial that I didn’t even know what pushed me to look back at him. At that instant, he too was looking back at me. Our eyes caught up in unspoken romantic electricity and held for like ever and I saw myself roll my eyes and giggled to myself before I looked on ahead of me. I was beside myself happy with my mischief that hot afternoon. Wow! My legs almost turned to jelly that I prayed all through my walk back to my office I don’t end up a heap of myself on the ground.
The rest of my day at work was spent in the arms of my new lover man. I even did some naughty stuff with this my new hottie when I got home that I wouldn’t dream of sharing with anyone. Day in-day out, I continued in my fantasy lala-land with my Adonis. Now life in Lagos has become bearable.
When I broke up with my former beau in Abuja where I had worked for the last six years over his rooster traits, I wrote the management of the Advertising Agency I work with to transfer me out of Abuja as I couldn’t bear to breathe same-same air with the loathsome cheat. At the age of twenty-eight and after investing a lot in a courtship I thought was altar-bound; the import of my break-up with my boyfriend was a huge stash of trash to let in through my nostrils. Coming down to Lagos, I walked into a mess. The men are too money conscious to be a bother and genuine prospects for my determination to walk down the aisle and stop being among the pretty girls who wear aso-ebi for uglier girls every weekend. Not that I’m waiting for the virtual Dangote son. Far from it. I only needed a man who would be there when we both get back home from work.
It is only in Lagos that a passenger in a public transport would sorely and thoroughly be insulted by the bus conductor for a presumed sin of not having the right change for your t-fare. When I resorted to using taxi, my account suffered tremendously that I watched in crude consternation as I started adopting the crude and unrefined Lagos attitude to life but thankfully to God for me, not on everything. One rule I adopted that has been helping me here in Lagos while I pay the prize for loving the wrong man, was never to exchange words with both the driver and his conductor as they are always two of a kind no matter the provocation. They are uncouth and unrefined humans with caustic tongues dripping of blood. Such vile swords!
Forgive the digression, my love for my new Adonis continued to increase on daily basis that I resorted to sending our Office assistant to buy me my lunch to avoid running into him and ruin my fun. When I got tired of eating in the office and suffering from weight increase, something I know my kind of men don’t like in girls like me, I decided to go back to the eatery by myself. Chance would be that I won’t run into him again. I was relieved when I sat down with my order and he was nowhere to be found. To be double-sure, I hit upstairs and he was not there as well. I sat down backing the entrance and started enjoying my meal. Way into my solitariness on this particular table, my Adonis allowed his tray to clatter in a beautiful noise to draw my attention on my table. I ignored this intrusion and waited for the person to sit down all to no avail. Fifty seconds later, I was forced to look up and behold, my Adonis was peering into my face and our eyes locked again. I gave out a weird sound as I inhaled in a rush. He got my heart melt when he smiled into my eyes and said:
“Thought I wouldn’t get your attention and permission to sit with this lovely company?”
I blinked seductively as I fidgeted and smiled back at him and waved him into the seat opposite me. He turned out exactly the gentleman I have always wanted him to be. His diction is perfect and his mannerisms: extremely urbane. His name became Uche and mine is Pearl. Within minutes, we were acting like we’ve been some besties. He actually toasted me like I hoped, that before I left for my office, he was begging me to permit him to drop me by my office. But I guessed it would be too early for him to know where my office is and accepted to let him have my number instead.
A graduate of Business Administration from Oxford University, he owns a freight-forwarding company and made it that in two weeks, we have become lovers. He knows how to woo a woman. Two months later, he sent his driver for me to come over to one of the hotel rooms we use for our love tryst. When he opened the room’s door to me, he wasn’t looking his normal boisterous in-a-suave-way self. I gave him a perfunctory kiss and asked him why he looked gloom.
He told me his wife is back. From where? He never told me he has a wife stashed somewhere. I was taken aback. Not again! He answered Canada. I was as stoical as never before. I walked up to where he sat like a boy caught with his fingers inside a jar of his favorite strawberry jam and asked him to stand up. He peered up into my eyes like I was up to some wild physical visitations on him and grinned in reservations before he stood up and awaited his fate. I grabbed him forcefully by his tie and gave him a wet kiss that threatened to last for the whole day. When I was done, I said to him:
“I have always suspected you are married but I love you so much that I can’t stand leaving you. You can have your wife, but I’m here to stay. What do you say to that Uche?”
He grabbed me and we did it in grand fashion like we never did it before.