I am an Ajebutter. Not by birth, or by formings, or by swag – I am simply an unapologetic Ajebutter by default. I didn’t choose to be born one. God, without seeking my opinion (because He’s God, I guess), gave me the genes of an Ajebutter and a funny Bri-Merican accent . By luck or some twisted work of fate, fortune, Karma (I might have killed ten defenseless puppies in my past life) or destiny, I have found myself in Lagos, crazy Lasgidi, and this is my story…
Fate is a funny customer.
Last week I revealed the story of Temilola, my newfound angel who God threw my way in a BRT. Temi refused to give me her number, and I felt a part of me died the moment she walked away with a slight smile, her slim hips swaying, and her hair dancing in the cool morning breeze.
I walked through the day with a sad sigh on my lips.
I thought I had lost her, I would never see her face again, forever condemned to spending the rest of my life with a lady I meet from a whorehouse, or some spoilt princess with an attitude that will break my weak heart.
I prayed for her to return, she didn’t. I peeped out the window of my office hoping to see her smile, or catch her scent. But only the hot afternoon heat threatened to give me asthma. No Temilola. My Angel Temilola. She didn’t come back. She would never come back. I will die old, rich and alone. With just crisp Naira notes to listen to my tales of worldly experience.
That day, I felt the world ending.
The next day I still rode a BRT to work. Why not? It’s cheap and comfy. I get to save money for some extra Coke.
I always kept my mouth shut I bus rides. I have a funny Bri-Merican affected accent, and people get to stare when I talk. I didn’t need the attention. It has neither brought me money nor fame. It couldn’t even keep my Angel Temilola.
But today, I talked, and it was pure magic. My Blackberry kept screaming, and I had to take the call.
“Hello, Joey Akan, Pulse.ng, how may I help you.”
I answered the phone, and had a brief conversation which made heads turn my way. I didn’t care. I simply kept a straight face, dealt with the caller professionally, and wrapped up the call.
People kept staring at this dude with a funny sounding accent. I looked ahead, with a bit of pride. Hell they can stare. I’ve earned it. But it didn’t end there. Someone else had noticed. Someone with an inviting smile, and slim curvy hips.
I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around to face an a dark man, mid-forties, tribal marks. He gestured to behind him, to the far end of the bus. My gaze went there.
Sitted there, waving excitedly, and smiling like a kid who just found a stash of sweet chocolates was Temilola. My Angel Temilola. God has returned her in a BRT.
“You’re not escaping this time, Temi.” I called out, with a rush of blood to my head.
Temi laughed out softly. She looked happy in a black blouse, a fitting skirt, and flat shoes. She didn’t have wings, but she was beautiful to me.
After the bus ride, I quickly moved to claim my own. I stuck out my phone like some leper desperate for a miracle. Temi punched the number in. Struggling to maintain a calm exterior. You know how these girls are. She was excited to see me. Her shaky fingers betrayed her.
I received the number, hugged her goodbye, and walked away with a spring in my step. I have hit the romantic jackpot. Fate has made me win in love. I and Temi will have a long romantic relationship.
We’ll go on dates, know each other, hold hands and whisper, look into our eyes and smile. We’ll dance in the rain, kiss in the sunset,, and make love in the full moon. Our love will be the stuff of legends, it will go down in history. Romeo & Juliet, Helen and Paris, Ojukwu & Bianca, Joey & Temilola.
See you next week people. Wish me luck in love. Peace & Good Hustle.