A Short Love Story – I AM NOT DOING AGAIN.
They say, “the fastest way to get a man to marry you, is to cook his best meal and serve it with a chilled bottle of coke” – okay, nobody said that, i just totally made that up.
But, if it was true; then Nneka would never get married.
Nneka, was my church crush – church, in the sense that we attended the same church and she was in the choir – so yeah, church crush!
But you see, she wasn’t like any other choir girl you know. Forget those “head-tie wearing, Ankle skirt” girls you’re probably imagining.
Nneka had class, and ass too – not sure which was more, but both were in abundance. Her figure eight shape wasn’t helping matters, not to talk of her clear American accent – Mehn! Angels had to be made this way.
So yeah, we eventually started dating after I broke forcefully out of the deep shackles of friend zone I was submerged in – *middle finger village witches*
During the course of our dating, she kept complaining about the money I spent eating out and buying junk food. I never really had a problem with this cos’ I barely had time to cook for myself, with my 9 – 8 job and all. – Yeah, 9am to 8pm! My boss was directly related to the devil himself.
Anyways, she offered to cook and insisted on spending the weekend. She was going to “spoil me silly” with different kinds of dishes I had never tasted. I knew right then, that I had found the one. No more cornflakes and indomie for one week – goodbye carbohydrates; Hello protein!!
I fell deeper in love.
Saturday finally arrived, and I was treated to a huge plate of Egusi soup – Everybody’s favourite.
I’m not much of a Bible story kinda guy, but after first taste, I knew instantly that soup must have been inspired by the story of Lot and the Pillar of Salt.
My Egusi soup was filled with the missing parts of the Pillar of Salt. I’m not joking, I might have as well, ordered a salt solution instead – heck! it felt like it.
But I let it slide, maybe she was just nervous cooking for me for the first time – Love, really is blind.
By evening, we had Beans – or should I even call it that?
Beans used to be my favourite food, until Nneka catwalked into my life. Now all I see when I think of Beans is horror and battlefields.
You think I’m lying? Okay, picture David and Goliath. Yep, remember those stones David picked before the fight? – yep! those ones.
They were present in my dinner plate. Actually, I think I had more stones than Beans for dinner – but then again Love prevailed, I let it slide.
It was when I saw her washing the rice with soap and sponge the next morning, I knew that I was finished.
“Blood of Donald Trump!! “, I shouted!
But deep down, I was certain the end was finally here. At that moment, I knew my village witches had won the battle – they were probably twerking to a Gospel beat sef at that time.
It’s been two weeks since that weekend and I’ve not had the mind to return her calls or texts. Please, how do you arrange your lips to tell somebody you’re not doing again?
Brother zone has never felt more perfect to me. I willingly zone myself.
I give up abeg, I’m not doing again joor!
Credit: Mario Fyneboi