Jimi twirled the pen
in his hand, gazing intently at the woman in front of him.
“Sade, how long have
we known each other?” he asked suddenly.
“One year,” she
answered hesitantly.
“And how long have we
been dating?”
“Six months,” she
replied a bit faster this time.
Why was he asking all
these questions on a Tuesday afternoon? As if he was reading her mind, he said:
“You know these
questions have a purpose. In the six months I have dated you, the
question of compatibility has never come up. We have both carried on
under the assumption that we were suited for each other.”
He paused.
Sade began to shift
uncomfortably in her chair. Jimi ignored her body language and continued.
“You know most men
don’t date women for their intellect. What initially attracts a woman to
a man is her body. Specifically, her ‘attack,’ ” he said, patting his
chest, “and her ‘defense’ are relevant features. A pretty face is
just jara. There are certain men who want their women to come
fully loaded with a formidable attack, the kind that does not require the
additional services of a padded bra,” he said, using his hands to form the
shape of a full, well-rounded set of mammary glands. From his antics,
Sade surmised that he was trying to describe a set of double-D cups. He
wasn’t done though.
” … And there are
others who prefer that their women have a heavy and capable ‘defense,’ the kind
that can comfortably support a glass of water, and if necessary, a complete
3-seater sofa.”
By now, he had gotten
up from his chair and had migrated to a spot beside her, using his hands to
form the shape of a firmer, fuller butt. Sade uncrossed her legs and
leaned forward slightly.
“So, which class of
men do you belong to?” she asked coolly.
“You’re an intelligent
girl. I’m sure you know the answer to that question. I am a member
of both classes. Now, I have convinced myself for …. how long have we
been dating again …?”
“Six months.”
“Exactly. For
six months, I have convinced myself that your intellect was enough to make up
for your obvious deficits, but I am tired of preaching to myself. Anyone
with eyes can see that you are both flat-chested and have absolutely no
defense. In fact, my brothers are more endowed in the defense department
than you. I think I can safely tell you that I’m moving on. It’s
over.”
Sade said
nothing. The crooked smile she had on her face the entire time Jimi was
decorating her with insults, was still there. His speech had not wiped
off that smile. It was now his turn to feel uncomfortable.
“Oya say something now
… “
“Why? I rather enjoyed
your speech. You must have rehearsed it a couple of times, and I am
certain that you’re not done. You still haven’t told me who you’re
leaving me for.”
Jimi was
shocked. This girl was not floored by his break-up speech, and was even
demanding to know who his new girlfriend was. He began to worry.
“What?! You’re not
entitled to know that. It’s none of your–“
“Oh, but I already
know. I just wanted you to say it with your mouth. Since you’re not
going to be a gentleman and finish what you started, I’ll do it for you.
It’s my kid sister, Bose, isn’t it?”
Jimi did not say a
word. He was dumfounded and began to ask himself how she knew. He
had covered his tracks very well and taken extra precautions, but–
“Don’t trouble
yourself, ehn. You’ll be happy to learn that she has
Herpes. In a few days, when you start itching and scratching your–” and
at this juncture, she briefly glanced at the area below his waist, and then
back at his face, “–you’ll know what your second early
birthday present is. Two special gifts, just for you.”
Picking up her purse
and leaving an astonished Jimi behind, she turned around and added: “I hope the
crabs eat you for lunch, Mr. Attack and Defense. Happy Birthday o!”
By Sharon Salu (courtesy naijastories.com)
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