I lost my soulmate today. The story of how I lost her is not that interesting, at least not as interesting as the many tales I have to tell here but it’s still a story anyways. I won’t be telling the story anytime soon though simply because my heart is still bleeding profusely from the massive heartbreak I suffered – no it’s not her fault. I committed emotional suicide!
You see, my name is Oluwafemi. Yes, yes, FEMI, Yoruba demon Femi, baby boy Femi, lover boy Femi and all the stereotypes that comes with Femi. I am all of them to be very honest, I’ve been all of them except serial killer Femi. Oh! And stalker Femi too!
That’s enough introduction for now, now to the story.
You don’t just wake up one day and become a baby boy. Nah, it doesn’t work that way.
While a lot of the Yoruba demons would give excuses like ‘I was molested by an aunt as a child, she played with my wee-wee’, the ‘my mother was never really around to show me enough love so I’m just playing around looking for the perfect love’ excuse or the rich kids’ ‘our maid molested me when I was growing up!’ excuse, mine is a lot more understandable than these quack excuses.
Truth is, you must have an excuse to be a demon even if it’s the lamest excuse anybody can come up with. When you break your first heart and the girl comes crying to you calling you all sorts of names and appealing to your ‘church mind’ it is that your lame excuse that speaks to your conscience to ignore her and move on with your ministry.
Life isn’t fair baby girl, after all I was molested as a child by my (insert aunt, maid, neighbor or all 3 of them) and I didn’t ask for it. Ripple effect baby.
Also, the more stupid your excuse for becoming a baby boy is, the less punishment Karma metes out to you. This is a scientifically proven fact. Don’t even question me!
This is the story of my own excuse.
I fell into the trap of a laiskeen girl!
Notice how I didn’t say light-skinned? Okay, you noticed, that’s good.
Being light-skinned is way different from being laiskeened, I’ll explain.
We don’t choose our skin complexions by ourselves, except you got money to buy those creams that bleach your entire life including your brain but miraculously excludes your butt-crack, so being fair, brown, blue, yellow or red in complexion is absolutely fine. When you let your complexion get into your head so much you start behaving like a miss world is when you start becoming laiskeened.
The earliest symptoms of this disease are replying messages after 3 days of receipt (even emails get instant replies these days), posting thirst traps on social media just so guys can slide in your DMs for the curving, not replying DMs, going to absolutely great length to buy an iPhone when you don’t even have enough to feed yourself (even if you have to owe your fake-bestfriend)…I’m not a doctor so I’ll stop here.
If any of these things remotely apply to you, please visit the closest MFM branch to you so that the laiskeen demon in you can fall down and die before it becomes a principality and power.
So I fell into the trap of a laiskeen girl!
I was young, naïve and so full of love back then when I met Genny. My friends called her Genny textbook.
She was absolutely beautiful, in fact stunning!
I had just gained admission into the University of Lagos, the breeding ground for the standard Lagos baby boy when I met this beautiful girl. The circumstances of our meeting is a bit blurry now so I’ll just skip through it. But I remember Genny telling me that day as we sat in Huski Foods in New Hall that she was a model for Cocacola. Ol’boy! My head sparked! I’d hit jackpot my first week in school.
Bad sharp guy that I thought that I was, I got Genny’s number on my flip phone and started calling her quite frequently after school hours and most times when I had a break in lectures and she was free we would meet for lunch.
Remember I said I was so full of love yeah? I would send Genny text messages every night before sleeping and in the morning first thing before I said my prayers. Brethren, I worshiped this girl!
I didn’t suspect anything when my friends (new friends of course, because new school) insisted that there was no chance between my idol and I.
In fact, I looked at them like they were too blind to read the writing on the damn wall! Ironically one of them was named Daniel.
This girl was feeling me bruh! To me, I might as well have been the sexiest David Beckham she had ever seen (I would have said Idris Elba but I’m light-skinned, too light-skinned).
You see, Genny was so evil that I had traveled deeply into her friend-zone territory but her charm and grace coupled with a word of romance littered here and there made me believe that I was on my way to her boyfriend-land, and she would gladly open the gates for me.
She bewitched me bruh! Don’t be deceived! Grace and charm with a stunning smile are all symptoms of chronic witchcraft. You would just be dancing Salsa into the friend-zone and she’ll be using you as handbag to be following her around campus. I didn’t say it happened to me though…keep quiet.
Genny used to throw me little glimpses of romance and hope whenever it looked like I was about to discover that I was the Chairman of her Friend Local Government Zone and then I would slide back comfortably into that friendly life. What a mugu!
It was on one of these hope throwing moments that Genny asked the question that would finally set me on that journey of no return to being a Lagos baby boy.
We were having lunch as usual at Huski Foods with one of her friends (Genny was so wicked she never walked with fine friends) when she suddenly asked me “so you’re not going to ask me to be your Vals abi?”
Heavens opened on that day! I saw Cupid fly into the eatery with his bow and arrow aimed right at Genny’s heart. He didn’t need to aim right, I saw that the arrow had GPS aim and all that new age technology stuff.
‘The moment has finally arrived’ I thought as I swallowed more spit before I spoke up.
‘Hahaha. I will ask you na’ I answered ‘Shey valentines is just like 2 weeks away’
Genny then smiled, even though the eatery was lit enough and it was noon it appeared that her smile beamed up the whole place. Like a myriad of angels forced their way into the building and were arranging themselves for a rendition of the Alleluia chorus in the full splendor of heavenly glory.
If only I knew that the Angels I saw were only gathered to send forth one of their own to the dark side.
The sweet angelic Oluwafemi that was so full of love on that day began his journey to the dark side where even the smartest women fear to tread for Yoruba Demons abound and lurk searching for who to devour.
‘The moment has finally come’ I said to myself
To be continued…