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Joey’s Chronicles Of A Lagos Ajebutter “How I dumped Lagos Valentine girls”

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…

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Joey Akan, Joey’s Chronicles Of A Lagos Ajebutter, Pulse.ng play Joey Akan, Joey’s Chronicles Of A Lagos Ajebutter, Pulse.ng (Pulse)

This Valentine’s day was one of the best in my life. And it was very surprising, because I didn’t see it turning out this way when Goodluck Jonathan decided to make the announcement to postpone our excuse for not turning up, and leave us open to all our girlfriends, scammers, and long-throat women.

Girls in Lagos had screamed for joy and gone for Thanksgiving, after 31 days of fasting, prayers and sacrifices to their supernatural beings, their supplications were granted. Valentine’s Day in 2015 was going to hold.

Trust my women, they didn’t dull at all, with my phone lines and social channels swarming with calls and messages.

“Joey, I want apple pie cookies and a thin slice of rose petals”

“Joey my darling, you are the banana in my plantation, remember my Val gift o”

“Joey-chukwu, Joey-ima, Joey-ifunanya, Joey-peperempe, we will go out together on Valentine”

“Joey-love, Joey-hun, Joey-darl, Joey-caramel, Joey-sugar plum, Joey-marshmallows, Joey-fresh air, you are my Valentine”

I had to keep my phone connected to the power source on a steady because of all the love and sweet names. If I wasn’t careful, one girl almost called me my ‘My diabetes’. Trust me. I gave as good as I got.

“Omalicha-baby, Toyin-tomato, Baby-oku, Baby-tornado, you and I will be together”

And for the tush ones. “My starry fiery redhead, Ruby-fingers, Ketchup-fluffy, Honey-hive, fantasia-berry, Berry-kiss, Angel-plumes”.

I was quite the Romeo, gathering all the Juliets. I was in form, the women were in season, and love’s day was approaching, everyone was set for a grandstand Valentine’s Day.

Even St. Valentine himself, would have nodded his ancient head in pride.

Here was his one true heir. And he had to come from Nigeria. Of all places, Nigeria. This surely will be the African Prince of Romance. Forget his bowlegs, big head and hunched shoulders. On the inside, Joey St. Valentino is made of hearts, hugs, and sensual romance.

Valentine morning came, and trust your man, Joey. He locked up.

The calls came in until the phone died. My Facebook account rang fat with messages, even my friends got found out, and told to contact me. Every agency on earth, was employed, except the CIA.

I even got an email from Google rewarding me with some amount of money for being the most searched Nigerian on their search engine. On Valentine’s Day, I, Joey Akan, was a celebrity.

I locked up all day, content to stay at home, work, and drink iced tea. In the evening, I went out to have some fresh air, just sitting by sea side, while everyone around made out.

Thanks to my solitude, I stumbled upon life’s great secret which I will share with you on a later date.

After Valentine, I have received a lot of hate messages. Some women say I’m messing with their emotions, others called me a freak, jerk, asshole, Agbaya, criminal and bastard.

Even though I know my father and my mother, someone still looked past that and called me a bastard.

One interesting woman called me the next day and said she was naked and praying against me. I simply replied, that she better wear some clothes before her nudes hit social media. There are cameras everywhere. Who you dey curse dia!

Do I feel bad for disappearing on love’s day? No. That will be simplifying things.

What I truly feel right now is just pity. A huge amount of pity emanating from my heart to all the broken hearts. And it’s really sincere.

God bless all my tomatos and sugar-plums. I still love you all, but not on February 14, 2015.

Hate me, call me names, kill me, but I’ll be here next week. Peace and good hustle.

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