UNCOVERED

I normally have deep talks with people. We talk about life in almost every angle. Some tell me how they’d like their women to be. Ladies tell how they’d like their men. Like one who once told me she likes mature men. Not to say that she prefers old men. She meant a man who is older than her with at most five years. She calls them men who have seen and experienced life and now only want to settle. She despises guys who are her age mates in campus especially. She says they are boys who are still full of games and their games are in form of experiments. A guy who is working and has his life well composed. I asked why so? She said it’s because women like to feel possessed and secure and protected. Who could argue with that? I would have spoken for the dudes here, but I prefer not to. That’s because I realised that not all men want the same thing like the ladies do. I will speak for myself.
See how deep the talks can get? They could go for hours and hours without any break. Maybe just a pee break. Or a wind break. Okay I mean a break where you go release some gas in case your tummy begins to betray you. Like, “Stupid tummy! We agreed I’d eat chapo and beans so that you stop craving but only if you’d digest it peacefully! Now see the embarrassment you’re bringing me again.” It’s supposed to be about talking about our issues and not ‘gasing’ out our issues. But nobody especially me; has the guts to admit that he’d want to go for a gas break. Sane human beings know better than to gas when they are in the middle of a serious talk. It contaminates everything. So you’d rather ask for a pee break even if you already did five minutes ago just to go gas out somewhere else. Nature appreciates gas more than the way human beings do. Some even pretend that they don’t gas. You can’t be too beautiful to gas. Oh the things that make us humble.
That leads me to what I want to blurb about today in the midst of all your blues that don’t suck any worse than they suck for me. Beauty. Forget the shit about it lies in the eyes of the beholder. Let’s just have the same eyes today mjango for the sake of this piece. I don’t care if you like it brown, black or discoloured (if there is anything like that). Today, beauty is just beauty. However because it is in my creative nature to entice you with vivid descriptions, I will describe her for you. For your fantasy. Don’t get offended if you like it brown. Wait, not ‘it’. ‘It’ makes it sound like I’m talking about a thing right? And I might just have an idea what ‘thing’ has been dangling in your mind. So, my bad. I’ll come again, don’t get offended if you like them brown. You will be rightfully compensated. Thank you. Today, she is dark, not so dark though. Call it, fair and lovely or shall I say, nice and lovely? Yea, that type. I’ve been seeing her around campus for some time now. I bet she has been seeing me too. I’m just saying because it’s good for my esteem. The latest hairstyle she has is makeba. Some very long thick braids that touch the small of her back.
She has an average height that I can say is a safe height since it is compensated by her slight curve by her abdomen. Posterior? Check! In short, she doesn’t have too much of everything. Who am I to say it’s dangerous? Especially in this case. Her size is just enough for the mjangos who prefer quality to quantity. In fact, come to think of it, it is even a favour from the Lord. He will have given more than you ask for. Sadly, almost all ladies think all men are after quantity. For instance, sorry Aska. (Hehe.) Aska, my fellow comrade, when you see her for the first time without hearing her speak, you’d think she is a Nigerian. Oh, especially when she has black lipstick on. I have this mentality that Nigerians are ever dramatic. I think it’s because of their movies I quit watching when I first spotted hair growth on my body. On my chin to be specific. Hey, just to be clear. Aska is not the example that I’m giving about quantity. Maybe another day when I have insurance for my blog.
She was replying to my previous blog via Whatsapp, “I like men’s chests not hairy. Sasa hairy tunapeleka wapi?”
After a conversation on that I ask, “Why are you not asking me back on what I like?”
“Because I know it’s obvious. Haga and boobs.”
Worry not. I wasn’t offended. She later asked anyway.
She also wears a pair of medicated glasses that just does the magic for her face. She dresses like the millennial I expect her to be. Like one Saturday evening, I met her looking all jolly. She was in a black jump suit and a denim jacket.
The man I am gets things done at the snap of a finger. What do you know, in no time I had jumped from the acquaintance zone to the safest zone in existence; the friend zone. May my fellow men or boys who are learning how to be men – get to know as from now about how to take things slow. Or if you think it’s a race, go ahead and rush things. I’m sure you wouldn’t mind if they call you a player later. Oh you’re used to it already? That’s nice. Keep up!
Dummy!
My wisdom tells me that you should keep it friend zone and not even think of jumping out of that before you get to know who she really is. See if she is compatible with the real you as well. Let me be a little bit parabolic and nasty. The two of you will meet when you’re both in clothes of which is the right way to meet. But the both of you will not be in clothes forever after you take your friendship to a lovely level. There is a time for everything aye? And when the time to uncover comes, just make sure you don’t get shocked at what you see. Please try to take in that parable without any imagery. It corrupts everything if you don’t.
Shall we proceed? So in our friend zone, I looked at her every time we met and in my head I said, “Finally some good can come from Nazareth.” For once in campus, here is one who is a darling among the constellation of dark angels. At least she looks like one. I don’t see her here and there with boys. She speaks so well with so much eloquence and confidence. I don’t hear her cursing. She has also never borrowed me money or even asked me to buy her a smokie. In campus, when you meet at a food joint or shop and she is there to buy a loaf of bread then she asks you to buy her a smokie, look for a quick exit out. You are about to get smoked through that smokie. Or get sandwiched.
Judging by appearance that I only know too well not to, I was right to say that she is a good girl. The type of girl I told Aska about when we also had a deep chat like the mature people we are. I was becoming a proud man, preparing his arsenals for battle that already has a good chance of victory. She is worth every bomb that can be launched by a man in effort to bring down her ‘hard to get’ walls. Walls that when brought to the ground they expose the nakedness of her heart. Like every girl we know, the soft ball in her chest begins to fall to a place God knows where. I hear they call it love. However, the only place probable place I see her heart can fall into is her tummy. So maybe love is in her tummy or something. Anyway, she falls in love, just like that.
Maybe it would be like so, until we met on that Saturday night, when she was in a black jump suit that covered only up to half of her dark thighs. (I know better than to call another lady’s thighs dark and lovely. Anything I say here can or may be used against me during my wedding day.)
“Hey you!” I say.
“Heeey you guy.” She says while spreading her arms for a hug.
“You look all brightened up and Christ! That jump suit. It just couldn’t cover much more eh?”
Laughing, “Stop it. You’re intimidating me.”
I chuckle, “Not my intentions. Anyway what’s the occasion? This late.”
“How can you not be aware? It’s a weekend. I’m going clubbing?”
I could hear my heart cracking. Thank Heavens I didn’t break a tear. “You… Aaahm… You club?”
Still looking excited, “Like yea. I’m a daily customer there.”
It’s only getting worse but she doesn’t know it. She couldn’t read my facial expression. Maybe because she was already on party mode. No wonder she wore a light outfit like that. The denim jacket is only for the cold out here. But in there, only mercy knows. I pitied her. I pitied myself the more. So the search for the darling among the dark angels of campus continues.
“So I got to go. Will see you later?”
Putting on a fake smile, “Yes. Enjoy yourself.”
I would have asked whether later means when she is sober.
This is to say that some men are sober minded. Quality matters over quantity. Quality lies in the character. And character in this case is what you define it to be. Like the way I’ve defined for myself. Not to say they don’t appreciate quantity or even the quality of the appearance. Now we can start talking about beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder. So take your pick mjango. If you find yourself inconsiderate about the character, then we need no forgiveness when we conclude that you are both lost. So maybe and just maybe you deserve each other. But for those who appreciate character before the so called beauty, take heart. It goes a long way even after you uncover her. You’re free to define that the way you want now. Hehe. Please note however that I am not saying you take your pick with your eyes closed. There are no second chances in some things aye!
By the way, the line about a girl asking you to buy her a smokie while she is buying bread was parabolic. Read it again with an open mind this time. You will be shocked. Well, in case you haven’t noticed, I just showed you one way to uncover dark angels in beautiful and quantified bodies.