I know it hurts- these truths; tearing at your
insides like a savage beast. Would you rather I
keep quiet and watch you mourn inconsolably a
few months down the line over unrequited love
and self-worth smashed to tiny bits; bemoaning
time that cannot be recovered, with tear marks
like a child forced to swallow pap without sugar
every morning? Would you rather I turn the other
way and pretend I didn’t see that gaffe- the one
you tried to hide just so we can all pretend that
your man is a good one?
Ah! My darling, I have a big mouth. Have they not
told you? I have a big mouth and strong opinions.
You see, I used to be just like you, making excuses
in the name of love; twiddling my thumb, biting
my lower lip and blinking a hundred times at the
sight of casual love mistaken for the real thing-
you know the type that comes like a whiff of a
fart, leaving a foul odour behind that kills your
sense of humour and blurs your inner glow. I will
not let you suffer this ignorance. Haba, what else
am I here for? I will tell the truth and watch the
devil run mad; lay down bare facts and watch
demons flee.
Does he have healthy conversations with you?
Heck do you have conversations at all?! Every day
you meet after work at a bar on the Island- both
of you, sharing a bottle of wine and a nice dinner.
You think he meets up with you because he cares?
No, he is only waiting for traffic to wane before he
heads back to the mainland.
You sit for dinner; his hand should be holding
yours, no? But where are those hands of his? On
his damned blackberry- pinging away! He is
smiling into a phone, chuckling and texting. Who
is he texting? It doesn’t matter. It could be Bob
Marley for all I care, it still wouldn’t make it cool.
With all sense of love and reason, he should be
handling your breasts…ok maybe not your breasts,
but your hands- on the table, drawing love marks.
That’s what a keeper does.
Where is the gleam in his eyes, ehn? The last time
you saw it was last week when he was on top of
you, riding you like a horse to its death. You saw
it only for a split second before he poured his
waste right inside your body. And then his eyes
wouldn’t even rest on you for another second. Did
he not roll out of bed and into the shower? When
he came out did he not frown at you- still lying in
bed, feeling like Monalisa (the painting)?
“You want to lie down there forever?” he asked as
he dressed up.
Did you not sense a hint of irritation? Hmmmm!
My dear, he is not a keeper.
When last did he send you a random note- left on
the kitchen table, stuck to the fridge? Have you
ever found a love letter under the pillow
addressed to you? Has he made any sacrifices
lately- like waking up on a Saturday morning,
ditching everything else, to drive down to the
airport to pick you up (when you can easily get a
taxi), with a broad JayZ-after-Solange-attack
smile on his face?
Did he notice you have lost some weight? Your
tummy is lean and your arms are toned- has he
said anything?
Has he ever said “I love you” whilst you complain
about fresh wrinkles under your eyes or when
you wake up in the morning looking like a Hot
witch, hair like cotton wool beaten by a tornado?
Does he ask about your mother? Is he worried
that you are yet to get a degree? Has he ever
bought you a casual gift on a sunny afternoon
with no celebration in view?
Has he cooked you breakfast yet, even as you
entertain yourself with a Danielle Steel thriller?
Do you still have fun debates that are funny and
random and everywhere?
Ok, this: do you suspect he is cheating on you with
his colleague?
Should I go on?
What about that text you found lurking in his
phone? The one he sent to a number saved as
“plumber” (we both know that is no plumber!
Else we might be worried about a whole new
issue… won’t we?); you read the raunchy text with
vivid and lewd description of what he plans to do
with/to the plumber’s buttocks when they meet.
You read the reply, didn’t you?
“Oh baby, I plan to suck your scrotum until they
taste like berries in my mouth…”
That was the plumber’s reply. Is this life, ehn?!
What did he say when you confronted him with
these vulgar texts? Do you remember? Did he not
snatch his phone and then wriggle a finger at you,
warning you not to go around looking for trouble
where there’s none? Did he not lie through
gnashing teeth that the text was mistakenly sent to
him?
*sighs*
This man of yours, he has hit you once…or maybe
twice, abi? Does he threaten you with a slap; is he
punching walls, screaming invectives at you?
Is he always dressed like a model straight out of
one of those fabulously retarded runway shows in
Lagos, but never compliments your own sense of
style?
It is hard, I know. But ask yourself- is this man a
keeper?
If the answer is no, then it’s time you start
thinking of another master plan.
Six months later, has he introduced you to his
“serious friends” yet? You know, the ones he
respects and honours.
Does he know your safe periods or just dumps
sperm inside of you then leaves you to go figure
your issues out by yourself? Has he ever massaged
your back?
What about cunnilingus? You heard me! What.
About. Cunnilingus?
Does he love to eat you up like a nice slice of cake
or do you roll your eyes exasperatingly when he
licks you like sour grapes, barely allowing his
tongue to touch your labia? Or wait…does he even
eat you up at all?!
Ha!
Is he judgmental- telling you what to do with your
friends, your hair, your job, your dreams?
Rate out of 10, does he make you smile right out of
your heart?
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When he makes you to do the dishies and laundry and still say you are lazy... He is not a keeper but a PLAYER