FOOLS FOR LOVE

Holla!

It is Friday night!

Are we ready for a Friday Night Rendezvous?

The first fictitious short romance story I ever wrote had that title. If you have not read it, you can find it here…

So, since we stopped our story last week titled “Where do Broken Hearts Go?” in 2006, let’s skip the story titled “Sugar, Sugar” whose main character has bribed me to delay the telling of his own story, and skip to 2007, where we will be sharing a story I have chosen to title “Fools for Love”.

Wondering at the title? Well, in one of the responses I got to last week’s story, someone said many of us are fools for love. Wouldn’t you have thought that with that very nasty heartbreak, I would never fall in love again? I thought so o… I even joined the men-are-scum-league. But alas, 14years after and 3 babies down, I am just going to advise you to keep living and keep loving.

In 2007, I got a job with Nokia as a member of their field force. I was a retail consultant. I was a big deal. I was well paid. I drove a brand new Toyota Corolla, 2007 model. I got new phones regularly. I used an E61i for work, it was as good as a palm top computer. I belonged to the South West Team, where we had 5 guys and only 2 girls. we had a very vibrant social life.

Nokia trained us weekly so I saw Sugar Sugar very often. You will have to wait till I tell that story. Miss Chi was the only other female in my team and we were both in Ibadan. If your party mattered and we did not attend, your party didn’t matter. I mean parties for under thirties o… We also used to go to nightclubs after trainings on Fridays with the boys who would come in from Asaba and Benin.

Our team lead came to Ibadan weekly. I introduced him to my parents. My dad discovered that he was the son of a long lost friend, who was late. So, Daddy insisted that he should stay in our BQ anytime he was in town for trainings. It was this team lead who introduced me to Living Spring Concert in OAU. That was where I saw Joseph for the very first time.

I remember looking down at the stage (where great music was coming from) and seeing a young man with a humungous afro holding the mic. His shoes were the type that had pointed tips that loved looking up. He was wearing Ankara and he was very funny. He introduced himself as “Joseph Olatunde Caxton-Martins”. Someone mentioned that he lived in Ibadan, but, what is my own? If he lived in Ibadan, I would definitely see him around.

My oldest friend, Miss I, decided to get married in August 2007. Ife and I have been friends since KG2. She lived and worked in Lagos but her family house was in Ibadan. As chief bridesmaid, I got into work mode and started planning. I was in charge of all the bridesmaids’ dresses for the wedding, which took place in Iyin-Ekiti.

Miss I enjoyed the dedication with which I attacked the planning of her wedding. So, she decided that I would not leave her wedding single. She was happy that I broke up with Pastor Doctor (she had never liked him). She and her fiancé, T, set out to match make me with some guys from his office, who would be at the wedding. The first thing Miss I did was advise T on the choice of best man as one who would fit my specs. They decided on TO, a tall, slim, fair and handsome banker with prospects. I am sure Miss I started dreaming of how we would live in adjoining duplexes.

The girl is a devoted somebody o… Just in case that one would not work out, she had a backup plan. They invited an average height, dark, chubby and okay-looking colleague called Ben to the wedding too, just in case I was tired of show piece type guys who tend to break peoples’ hearts, Arnold from ‘My Little Black Dress’ being her reference point. They had given him my number and he had been chatting me in advance of the event. TO and I knew ourselves from primary school and so we had been talking too.

On the day of the wedding, we got a third contender for my attention that nobody had bargained for. You see, the MC from the Livingspring Concert in OAU was her wedding MC. Apparently, he lived in Miss I’s elder brother’s BQ. I had never seen him before even though I frequently visited her siblings’ houses. As soon as the MC saw the pleasure with which the best man was looking at me, he forgot about the wedding and decided to spend the whole afternoon yabbing the best man into the microphone.

“Please we asked the couple to dance and not the assistant couple. Best man, leave that fine girl alone.”

“Please o, somebody should help me move the best man’s seat away from the front. He is moving too close to the chief bridesmaid. You people are not the ones getting married.”

“Best man, oya go and stand at the entrance to collect gifts. I don’t know why you will not leave this girl for me.”

That was sha how I entered once change with the wedding MC. If I walked past, he commented. If any man greeted me, wahala. If any man brought me food or water, he wanted to deliver it himself. When the best man and I were dancing with the couple, he sent him away to dance with me instead. To spoil the matter, he was dark, short (according to my standards), had a pot belly and wore a black jacket that had red zips all over it. My people, the young man did not let all my suitors see road o! I definitely came back to Ibadan single. Ko funny rara.

I think this is a convenient place to stop tonight. Let us continue this story tomorrow night… Odaaro o… Beware of troublesome MCs.

---

So, where were we on our tale for this weekend – Fools for Love? I went to Iyin Ekiti and came back empty handed although two candidates were presented for inspection. Wedding MC did not allow us inspect. Na wah. That was in August. I continued my Nokia social life routine without running into that man again until Miss G’s birthday in September.

In 2007, Miss G celebrated her birthday with an all-white party. Miss Chi and I baffed up to the teeth with matching outfits only to enter the event center and find out that it was a candle-lit dinner. Lorokan, nobody could see our clothes and make up. We had to settle for eating well in silence.

As soon as the program of events started, we discovered that someone was determined to make rice come out of our noses. For everything that was said, he had a funny side comment. For every prayer, his amen was funny. Even when the speeches were serious, he would just find a way to upturn the thing. We were glad when the event finished because that man just kept redirecting all ears to his voice throughout.

When we finished, someone switched on the lights. The first person I looked for was the person that had been talking non-stop for the past 3 hours. When I saw him, the first sentence that came out of my mouth was – I should have known. It was the MC from Miss I’s Wedding. As soon as I remembered my ordeal in Iyin-Ekiti, I fled for the door. He tried to catch me but God rescued me that night. No need to talk to him o. The man wouldn’t let all the fine boys in the room get my number. There was no point.

I celebrated my escape and thought I was free indeed but within a few days, the he was back on the radar. I tire for the matter. I had a habit of taking a prayer stroll every morning. Although I was as skinny as a rake, I would walk daily from 6am to 7am speaking in tongues in Bodija. The young man would not let me enjoy my solitary stroll. Can someone help me ask him what he was looking for at that time of the day?

During my morning walk, I started noticing a wine BMW slowing down to follow me. If you knew that BMW, you would know that if it mistakenly gets on the same street you are on, the rumble of its engine would put you on red alert. That rumble started becoming my prayer stroll soundtrack. The man driving the BMW drive to my side and offer me a ride to wherever I am going. At 6am. In exercise wear. Speaking in tongues. Did I look like I needed a lift??? E gba mi o.

From rude telling off, it started changing to simple “Thanks, but no thanks.” Oga was not deterred. If I mistakenly walked on the streets of Bodija, the man would suddenly show up to offer me a ride. I had a car of my own and I had two of my dad’s cars at my disposal, if I needed to go anywhere. I thought that since he knew my car situation, he would know that if I was walking, I was walking by choice. Anyway, that was sha how I acquired a stalker.

On October 31, 2007, Eyitee was 10. His 10th birthday celebration was at their house and I volunteered to do decorations. To work fast, I took a friend along – Fubuwi. As we were rounding up, her phone rang and the person her caller was pestering her for the fun of it. When she got frustrated, she just shouted “Wo, Caxto, fimile.” I wasn’t really interested in her conversation until I heard that name.

“Who were you talking to?”

“One Caxto boy like that. Wahala e ti poju!”

“Is he an MC?”

“Yes, he is the one. You know him?”

“I have met him a few times. Is he your friend?”

“Yes, he is my friend but he is too troublesome.”

Then I said, in Yoruba “Gbe ore e wa, ka ba e fe.”

“Are you serious?”

“Have I joked with this kind of thing with you before ni?”

“Okay. Should I give you his number?”

“Rara o. A babe must always be a babe. Give him my number and ask him to call me.”

“Okay. I will do that.”

“Thanks dear.”

Two days later, which was the next time I saw Fubuwi, I followed up on my request.

“Your friend has not called me o.”

“That is because I did not give him your number. I thought you were joking.”

“Joking bawo? Have I ever joked this kind of joke with you before? Oya, bring out your phone and send him my number.”

“I don’t have credit.”

“How much credit do you want?”

“Jumoke, o ma serious ke.”

“That seems to be the only way to make you realize that I am not joking.”

“Okay. N500.”

“Let’s go and buy it.”

I bought her credit. She called him and told him she had a friend that wanted to meet him but that he should be the one to call her. He asked her if he knew me and she told him that he did and he had been trying to get my number for a while, according to me. Then she sent him my number via text message. Would you believe that the guy still didn’t call me until the following week???

Joseph got my number and refused to call o… For a woman who unusually, was being the aggressor, it didn’t make sense. Within a few hours, I decided to just forget about the whole matter. Abi, what is it gangan? However, the day I gave up was the day my phone rang.

 “Hello.”

 “Hello. Good evening.”

 “Good evening. This is Caxton. I got your number from a friend. She seems to think I know you.”

 “Hi Caxton. You know me. I am Jumoke – Miss I’s chief bridesmaid and Miss G’s friend. I work with Nokia.”

 That was how the young man tired to deafen me o… he started laughing like a hyena. After the first two minutes, the laughter changed to that off a jackal. After another two minutes, he asked me to excuse him between breaths.

 “Please, think I will have to end this call and finish laughing before I call back.”

 “That’s okay. As long as you call back.”

He actually ended the call. I could still hear him laughing. It took him all of ten minutes to call back.

“Hello Jumoke.”

“Hi Caxton.”

“Finally. How are you today?”

“I am good. You?”

“I am great. So, you finally got round to letting me call you.”

“Yes. Do you mind?”

“Not at all”

“So, where are you?”

“At home.”

“Okay. Do you have any plans for the evening?”

“Yes. I am supposed to take food to my uncle in UCH.”

“Would you mind some company?”

“No at all. I should go to UCH at 5pm.”

“I will be there some minutes before then.”

“Where? You haven’t asked…”

“Don’t you stay on the sloppy street? I have seen you at the junction a number of times.”

“Hmmm… So I don’t have to give an address or describe my place?”

“Please describe. I might need the additional information”

That was when I confirmed that he had truly been stalking me. God dey.

 Within a few hours, the street knew someone had come with in royal rumble style. I have mentioned that his car was notorious for its noise. I wanted to take my car but since it was a first outing of sorts, I decided to go in his car.

 My uncle had just had eye surgery and I was to take him dinner on the third floor of the University College Hospital. He not only followed me there, he came up with me to greet my uncle and he waited outside on the corridors. I am sure if he checks, he would still have the pictures he took on that day in his short-sleeved lilac shirt and dark frames. He was all smiles that day.

As a matter of fact, his smiles were worrisome. Ear to ear. I started worrying if he was always like that. Quite unusually, he didn’t speak any mean jokes about me or yab me as was his custom at the parties. All he did was smile and be nice. Anyway, that was in November 2007. That first phone call was the first in a series. We spoke everyday after that. Actually we have spoken every since that day till now. Amazing, isn’t it?

We spoke about anything and everything. Of course, the preliminaries came first – actual names, origin, family location, hangout preferences etc. Then we graduated to activities and plans and started leaving room for our daily conversations and hangouts. As a Nokia socialite, I ate out very often. It soon became commonplace for me to ask him to meet me up at one of the joints and have lunch with me. Nothing special, nothing unusal. He just became a trusty companion.

 Sometime around that time, Nokia changed my work schedule to include relationship management with phone stores in Abeokuta. Although I had a cab driver on standby, he wasn’t on my pay roll. My work schedule required me to be in Abeokuta on Wednesdays and suddenly, I needed a weekly driver for those trips. As our beloved Joseph was an event person who was never busy during the week, he volunteered to start driving me to Abeokuta on Wednesdays and thus, we started spending more and more days together.

I started catching feelings o, I cannot lie. But I can explain the feelings I caught. He was a nice person. Every time he visited, he almost seemed to get along more with Miss F than with myself. He was just such a friendly and jovial person. Miss F was also amazing. I made us eat out, she always made him food. You see, I was bent on making sure I was never perceived as wife material. So, I went out of my way not to do wifely things like offer food or drinks when he visits or be over nice. I cannot come and go and kee maisef.

 

Feelings “came down” more because of our Abeokuta trips. You see, Johnny’s family lived in Abeokuta and I considered it important to stop by at their house to say hello every Wednesday. He took those trips very personal. It didn’t make sense to me. On Tuesday, he would ask me if I had gotten something to give to Busola and Oluyemi. He knew I always took something for them. He would even ask if I planned to take something for their mum. Sometimes, he would get something for them himself. Always, he would hug them and gist with them like they were his own siblings.

Watching him treat the people I considered special as special had me sold.  He always went the extra mile for my friends and their families. He started looking like husband material. However, by the time I started meeting his friends, who were almost celebrities and way older than him, I came across a very vital information that militated against my feelings. You see, Mr. Joseph had a girlfriend o! Not only did he have a girlfriend, he had been dating a certain her since the year 2000. Just in case you did not understand the implication of that, it meant that their relationship was 7years old when we met.

 Are you shouting the way I shouted when I heard? Me that in my life, I had never had a boyfriend for a full year, I was now rolling with Mr Commitment himself. O ga ju. Immediately, my caution button was flagged o. A guy who could not make up his mind about which woman to date was one thing. However, a man who was committed and had been committed for 7years is another matter. He had met her family. She had met his. The families had been reaching out to the prospective son/daughter. I was just a friendly intruder. I had to pull my brakes o… I cannot come and go and die of pepper water. 

In December 2007, Joseph decided that he wanted to try out weaving his hair. He bought sporting waves texturizer and asked me to help him relax his hair. That fateful afternoon, after work, I went to his place and started testing my hairdressing skills. I didn’t know what would interrupt us until it did. There was some furious banging on his gate. There was no one in the main house. Joseph was quick to answer that since there was no one around, the person would soon leave. Well, the person didn’t leave and his phone started ringing. It was his madam.

 “Oh shit. She must be the one at the gate.”

 “I don’t understand.”

 “She must have planned to surprise me.”

 “Yay! Happy surprise. So, are you going to let her in?”

 “Let her in???! I wouldn’t dare.”

 “How do you mean?”

 “I have relaxer in my hair. She will conclude that I have backslid. Also, there’s the bit about you. How do I explain just the two of us in the compound?”

 “I came to make your hair.”

 “I don’t even want to have that conversation with her at all. There’s no escaping it unscathed.”

 “What are you now going to do?”

 “Watch the phone ring.”

 A text came in “I know you are in there and I can see the Corolla people say you started driving recently out here. Come and open the gate”.

 “Oopsie. So will you go and open the gate?”

 “Nope.”

 “What will now happen?”

 “Nothing.”

 Another text – “I hope you know I am not going anywhere. I will wait here until you come out.”

 “Am I trapped in your house forever?”

 “Let us wash the relaxer out so you can weave it.”

 “Seriously?”

 “If we are stuck here for a while, we might as well make good use of the time.”

 You want to know how I left his house that day? You would have to make it a date on Friday then.

 I sha know you can’t come and beat me.

 It was great and restful weekend for me. I hope it was for you too.

 Cheers to a wonderful working week starting tomorrow!