What are you Looking for?

Tuesday, 1 August 2017

[Story] Misplaced Love – Episode 1

I will best be described as extremely reserved, and
when it
comes to matters of the heart (love); I can be
annoyingly
sluggish with showing what I feel. My best moments
in my
many relationships have all been in dreams with
imaginary perfect men who never put a foot wrong. I
was
fearful, detailed and analytical to a fault. For the
larger
part of my life, the above weaknesses hindered me
from
opening my heart to accept love. On many
occasions I
turned men down only to get home and cry myself
to
sleep. I thought I had a pretty good idea about love
and
how it should work, but the problem with all I knew
was
that they had not been put to test in real life
situations. I
had a masterful knowledge of love but only in my
imaginary escapades. However a time came when I
got
bored with denying myself of real love. I grew bitter
with
myself and craved to be in love with a man…a real
man.
About that time my frustration peaked, I had
returned to
Nigeria from Canada where the company I worked
for sent
me for a course. When I got back to my office I met
new
faces, some of whom were guys. The new faces I
met were
part of a team hired by my company to handle
Client
Service and CRM (Customer Relationship
Management).
They were hired for us through a modeling agency.
You
can imagine what they looked like. The sight of the
guys
amongst them made my heart palpitate. Already I
was
desperately searching for a man. I could not wait to
put
my ideas to work, to love a real man and to be
loved back.
With these guys thrown in my path, I hardly
concentrated
at work.
Three weeks after I resumed work, I was asked by
the
head of HR (Human relationship) unit to supervise
our
new Client Service/CRM team. This meant I had to
always
be in touch with those ‘pretty’ guys. While my boss
was
speaking to me, my heart was racing and ideas
were
assailing my mind about how to nail one of them
down for
myself. I already had a target, Dayo. He had briefly
modeled in London before things went awry for him
and
he came back to Nigeria to reinvent himself. He
seemed to
be above the other guys judging by how he did his
work,
carried himself and treated his colleagues. I was
pretty
sure I was not the only woman at work who dreamt
of
having him beside them in bed at night. But I was
the only
one in a position to get him with regard to the
influence I
would have over his career at work. I still do not
recall
much of what my boss said to me after she had
broken
the news that I should take charge of the Client
Service/
CRM team. My only question to her was, “Please
madam,
can I pick one of them to work as an assistant…sort
of?”
“Of course! You are free to manage the team the
way you
see fit so long as your method gives us great
result,” she
replied. I beamed with a smile because finally, I was
going
get me a man to love me.
The next day, I went to work – but not for my
company. I
had spent the previous night studying the file I was
given
on each member of the group I was to supervise. I
wanted
to know how to get Dayo, or some other guy and
slay him
with love. I just could not wait to hear a real man
say to
me, “I love you” and then carry me into his bedroom
to
treat me like I was the ‘queen of Sheba’. It was
time to live
all those dreams I had dreamt for many years.
Having
over shielded myself from men in the past and did
not
really know what loving one was like, I did not know
what I
was getting into, and struggled to manage the surge
of
emotions which went through me like currents. To
be fair
enough to myself, I was annoyingly naïve. At the
conference room I and the team converged and I
introduced myself to them. One after another they
introduced themselves to me. I was both strict and
gentle.
I didn’t want to be seen as easy or harsh. I wanted
every
one of them to know that I would be friendly if they
preferred it and that I would also be tough if that
was how
they liked to work. I announced to them that Dayo
would
be assisting me with the job of helping the team
achieve
its goals. After making the announcement I waited
to read
their faces and to give anyone who had other ideas
the
chance to air them. There was none, so I proceeded
with
the meeting; however I kept a close look on their
faces to
see if I could decipher what they were thinking.
Frankly I
was scared. I had not wooed a man before and
doing it
tactfully in public scared the living day out of me.
Nonetheless, I kept my cool, bellying the storm of
fear
which raged on the inside of me.
After the meeting I went into my office and took a
deep
sigh of relief, I had given everyone a valid reason to
be
seen often with Dayo. So it won’t get tongues
wagging if we
were often seen together. Other ladies who were
head-
over-heels about Dayo won’t see me coming until
he was
gone. I set up my work in such a way that Dayo
was in
touch with me, and not me with him. In-between
our work,
I gave him the impression that I was available and
that he
could make the move. On the other hand I also
reminded
him that I was his boss. I had to be patient, but
Dayo’s
slow pace of making a move on me was frustrating.
It got
to a time I almost switched him with Samson,
another
handsome and intelligent guy in the group. I felt
Samson
understood me better and picked my cues as a
lonely lady
like a sniff dog. One evening after work, I was
feeling
lonely at home when my phone rang and it was
Samson.
My thoughts were that he called because of work;
however
when I picked the call he boldly asked me if I cared
to join
him on an evening outing. To me, he was clearly
asking
me out. My legs shook and my hands vibrated. In
fact, I
almost collapsed into the sofa close by. When I tried
to say
a word I found my throat dry like Sahara desert. My
long
silence had completely betrayed the fact that I was
overwhelmed by his request.
To regain my pride, I tried to intimidate him,
“Samson,
what do you think you are doing?! Are you asking
me out?”
My voice was not as harsh as it often sounded at
work,
and being a smart guy Samson saw through that. “I
am not
sure that is what I am doing right now, I am sorry if
it
came across to you that way. I felt you might be
alone and
wouldn’t mind to share a few bottles of drink with
me at a
bar.” I had to put up another façade, “How in God’s
world
did you get the idea that I am alone?” “I know you
are very
reserved and did very little outside after the day’s
work.”
“Thanks for your request Samson, tonight is not the
night I
will drink with you. Ask me another day. I happen to
be
very busy right now.” I lied, I was actually sick at
home
with being alone. I was an expert at throwing men’s
advances back at them. After all, that was what I
had been
doing since my preteen years. However this time I
did not
do it stupidly, I simply did it not to look cheap,
because I
figured Samson had been studying me for long and I
was
not sure what he might have found. The next day I
carried
on at work like nothing happened and Samson was
his
usual self, doing his work with a smile on his face
and a
song in his heart.
I studied him when I could and he perhaps did the
same.
By the time the day’s work was over, my fancy for
Dayo
had waned a bit; I was already fantasizing about
Samson. I
remember driving home from work and praying for
him to
call again with the same request. When I got home I
got
myself ready and waited for his call. It didn’t come.
However another call came. Dayo was in my
neighbourhood and had called to check on me. His
call
wasn’t the one I was expecting, so I brushed him
off. But
on a second thought I called him back and asked if
he was
leaving my neighbourhood immediately and he said
no.
He was actually waiting for his friend who was not
at
home. So I told him that I was coming out to bask
in the
evening breeze with him while he waited for his
friend. He
told me where he was and in a few minutes I
arrived there
in a taxi. I was spotting an adidas T-shirt and a pair
of Loro
Piana black trouser. I like flat slip-on footwears, so
I wore
one and had my handheld devices in a purse which I
clutched unto. I spent about two hours with him
that
evening before his friend called to inform him that
he was
home. Those two hours were amazing for me. Dayo
had
knowledge about everything, and I happened to have
a
bent for intelligent guys. I almost asked him to take
me
home. Knowledge flowed from his mouth like water
from
a fountain. The sound of his voice was polished; it
was like
the sound of music. He clearly worked out a lot. As
she
spoke, his chest would pulsate and his biceps would
firm
up. I almost touched them.
When I got home I could not resist calling him to
say I was
home. You should have heard me, I sounded like I
was
already his girlfriend. At work the next day I had him
pinned in my office really doing nothing. I wanted to
know
if he could not get it that I was offering myself to
him.
Sammy (Samson) came into my office severally and
saw
us. He probably wondered what Dayo was doing in
my
office that long. I did not care. Thank God I had not
fallen
for Samson; Dayo was my man and I was going to
get him.
As if he understood the reason I had him detained in
my
office all day, that evening he called to ask if I cared
for a
round of stimulating chat over a few bottles of drink
at the
bar of my choice. “Of course!” was my answer. Then
I
asked him to come pick me up at home. I liked to
be spoilt
with tender loving care. That was how all the men I
dated
in my dream treated me. When he came, I silently
prayed
for him to open his car door and hold it for me to go
in.
He did exactly that. ‘Oh God! I am already living my
dreams,’ I thought. To cut the long story short, from
the
events of that night, a relationship with Dayo
blossomed.
Two months later we were living partly in his
apartment
and mine. I washed his boxer shorts, cooked for
him, we
visited his parents together, his sisters often spent
time in
my house, and I would often ask him to bathe me
during
most nights he spent with me. I loved to be bathed
by the
man I love. If you asked the men I dated in my
dreams,
they would have told you it made me tick.
At some point I boasted to myself that my
relationship
with Dayo was better than the ones I had with those
imaginary perfect men in my dreams.
By the time
our
relationship was eight months old, it had already hit
overdrive. I could not figure out what in the world
we were
waiting to get married. So one evening, while he
was
bathing me, I asked him what he was waiting to
propose to
me. In a very romantic way, he put his index finger
on my
lips, signaling I should shut up, stood up and left the
bathroom. I had no clue what he was up to; I just
sat in
the bathtub and waited for him to return. When he
returned, he grabbed and began to kiss me as
though that
was our first kiss. In my head I wondered what his
game
plan was until his tongue began to wander
feverishly in my
mouth and left a metallic object in it. I broke from
the kiss
and spewed the object into my palm only to see it
was an
engagement ring. Faster than light can travel, my
eyes
moistened at the surprise he pulled off on me.
I looked up and found him kneeling on one foot; the
hallowed words from his lips took my breath away,
“Baby,
will you marry me?” Desperately, I gasped for breath,
I
had to blurt out my answer as if I waited a second
longer
he would take his request back, “Yes, I will!” I leapt
from
the tub and kissed him with tears flooding from my
eyes.
From that day our wedding plans began in earnest; I
made
sure all my friends and work colleagues got a good
look at
my engagement ring. I worked like an ant to make
sure no
detail was left out in my wedding plans. Dayo’s
family
could not wait to see us get married, especially his
mother
and sisters. Our wedding reception was grand and
stylish;
we had a very romantic looking table with white
linen
tablecloth covered with a pink overlay. I made sure
our
event planner tucked in a tiny, perfect rosebud into
each
guest’s pale pink napkin. A centerpiece included
varieties
of pink blooms, such as roses, orchids and tulips.
We had
masses of candles to warm everyone’s heart. We
floated
them in glass bowls in various heights on tables. We
had
table cards printed with the “firsts” of our romance.
The
two of us wrote those together. We used them
instead of
standard table numbers — for example, one table
was
“First Kiss” table and another was “First Date” table
and so
on.
To be continue……