Of crushes and breakfasts…
I have made it a tradition to write about myself on my birthday, albeit in snippets, till I’m ready for a full autobiography.
It was a dilemma settling for what to write this year. I first thought to write about the sexual abuse I suffered when I was in primary school but I want us to be woke very well before I can pen such an experience. Because my recent stories were serious, I have decided to bring the tone down and discuss something people hardly see me talk about — love. Maybe not love directly, but the buildup to it.
The first time I started having these tingling feelings in my head and stomach was JSS2. That was 2004. She was dark, good-accented and pretty. She also dressed smartly. I started looking forward to talk to her, seizing any opportunity to hear her voice. If she was absent in school, I would be the first to notice. Then, the tinglings started pushing me to know her house. I succumbed. Every time I was sent on an errand towards Ogo-Oluwa, Onward (Osogbo, Osun State), or not even to areas close to the place, I must pass in front of the girl’s house — just to see if I could catch her outside their apartment.
Then they moved to their own house (the previous one was rented). The house was a bit on the corner. So, I had the confidence to knock on their door. By the time we were in JSS3, the little drops of feelings had become a mighty ocean. I think the vehicular shape of their house made it enticing to want to see what the inside would look like. On my first visit, she was surprised. She probably didn’t suspect anything; we were barely teenagers. Then, Ayorinde left at the end of JSS3. She mentioned it to me then but there was no talking her out of it. If my family had the means, I definitely would have moved to her school as well.
After she left, I would then go to her house, occasionally take along my dutiful brother, Deji. Guy don follow me waka gan-an 😅😅😅. Anytime I met her on the street, omoooo, my week was made. I would gush about it. I knew the way I was feeling towards her but I couldn’t explain it. My innocent self didn’t even know anything about a relationship not to talk of trying to ask her out.
While much naivety surrounded my high school crush, by the time I got to the university, there was barely any vestige left. Olamide came second when I won the Students’ Union Spelling Bee in part 1 but from that point, I was the one hot on her heels. Her voice was a trojan to my system. I would lose control of my brain almost immediately she started speaking. She coming second meant that she was obviously intelligent. I didn’t open up to her on time though. Later, we were in part 2 already, I mustered the courage to invite her on a Valentine date (the first and only time I would go on one till now) and the more she spoke the harder my head turned.
I couldn’t ask her out that day, her voice already fried my medulla oblongata. Eventually when I did, it was a no. She said she wasn’t ready for a relationship and even if she was, she had her eyes on other guys. I stalked that girl ehn… I initially thought that Yoruba proverb — “kò jẹ ń sinmi l’obìnrin ń gbà f’ọ́kùnrin” — was a universal principle. The more I pestered, the more she withdrew oh. As in… It got to a point that she would just give a phone to someone to answer on her behalf.
It feels quite hilarious remembering all these details now. Olamide may have said no then but of course, the boy has become a man and the man is now the one sorting advances from ladies.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY Kola! May you not be served breakfast this year. Àmín. Cheers…
