I looked out the window. It was a bit windy and overcast but still sunny enough. I was decided.

“Trench coat. The black one Patrick got for me from Paris.”

“Yes,” Sola hissed. “Remind us that we’ve never had boyfriends that buy us things from Paris before.”

“Don’t worry,” I quipped in response. “The young shall grow to have.”

“Amen”, Sola answered, “And have those that won’t be deported for having irregular papers.”

I took aim and launched one of the slippers I was holding in the general direction of my giggling friend. It was artfully dodged.

“Well, it’s not as if it’s my fault he got himself deported,” I responded, throwing open my small closet to search for the coat. “You might as well have your things done the right way if you want to spend any considerable length of time abroad. They’re not like Nigerians, you know.”

“True,” Sola said. “But when you were receiving the clothes, chocolates, that LV bag…”

“I consider them pacifying gifts for dating a deportee.” I snapped. “Besides, all this…” I motioned my entire body. “Doesn’t come cheap.”

“If I remember correctly, you once dated a guy that got you one Longines wristwatch,” Sola paused for dramatic effect, “that we eventually discovered was very fake and cost him only N2,500 somewhere in Idumota.”

The other slipper was dodged as well.

“Or Segun, and that chain he gave you. That turned out to be only worth N1,500 when we tried selling it to one aboki!”

I made as if to lunge and Sola squealed. I waved as if to clear the offending memory.

“You’ve dated guys for cheaper.” I shot back rummaging through the closet.

“Lie!!!” Sola yelled.

“True.” I said, spotting the coat at the very end of the rack. I had only tried it on once before, and that was when Patrick had given it to me. It was still very black and new and still smelled of store freshness and France. I inhaled deeply. Did I like new things!!! Especially from foreign countries!!!

I stalked to the floor length mirror and held the coat out before me. Yes, it would completely match my all black ensemble.

“So where are you going looking like someone mourning a lost fourth husband?” Sola asked, still curled up on the bed, a position that had been adopted and modified little over an hour ago.

“The local stadium.” I answered simply. “There’s a match between two local clubs today. I intend to watch it.”

“Watch it?”

“Be there present,” I corrected.

“Ore mi, since when did you pick an interest in football?” Sola asked. “Abeg, tell me the truth jere. You’re going man hunting.”

I feigned offence.

“How can you say such a thing?” I shot back, while wearing the coat. “I don’t hunt for men. It’s the other way round.”

“Riiiighth,” Sola said. “And my pastor is a drug lord.”

“He might be, you know.”

“Shut up!” Sola laughed. “I know you’re not going to watch any match. Tell me what you’re going to watch. Or better still, who.”

I shrugged.

“Small football stadia are great places to meet great guys.” I said.

“Says who?” came the reply. “More like great places to smell noisy, sweaty guys watching twenty two noisier, sweatier guys chase a silly leather ball.”

“Call it what you want.” I threw back, admiring myself in the mirror. “I consider it a great avenue to place myself at a vantage point where classy guys would spot me, fall head over heels in love and whisk me off to France or some exotic place.”

“Their bedroom.” Sola offered flatly. I realized I had nothing else to throw.

“You think say I be ashawo like you? Dey there na. E go do you like film trick when I come back with a guy that will coast me off to the sandy beaches of England.”

“And who told you England is popular for sandy beaches?”

“Whatever,” I waved away again. “I’ll leave you to the sweaty, potbellied local men that you love so much.”

“Classy babe!” Sola squealed.

“Yes o!” I responded, doing a small spin on the spot in front of the mirror and nearly knocking down a nearby potted plant in the process.

“Break it o,” Sola said, eyeing me over, “and your aunt will break you. And this your trousers ehn, aren’t they a bit too tight on you?”

It was true, they did feel really tight, and I could practically hear each strand of hair on my unwaxed legs gasping for air. By the time I got back, they would have probably gone yellow from not enough exposure to air and sunlight. “Shouldn’t you wear something shorter?”

My friend was an undying believer in the power of bum shorts and would wear them to pretty much everywhere, then act oblivious to the stares and turning heads. All this in spite of the fact that I hard severally warned that most men didn’t really like manly looking legs. Sola’s, of course, not mine.

“Abeg, abeg, abeg.” I shot back. “I need to show off my every asset….”

“As few as they are….” Sola cut in.

“But still more than you’ve got.” I finished, snapping a finger at the amused face looking up at me. “Anyways, I’m just going to look for the most deserted region of the stadium where I can easily be spotted, sit there with a book and look all classy till my knight in shining armour comes to rescue me from the arms of deported men.” And with that, I picked up my designer shades, with a novel I had never opened before (it was a gift from one of my so called admirers. I had wanted to return it but there was no sender’s address. I mean, what secret admirer gives someone a book as a gift? What happened to all the perfumes and designer outfits or cheaper still, chocolates in this world?) and walked out with Sola shouting after me to get a number if I spotted an extra cutie.

The walk to the local stadium was mercifully short. Short because it was quite close to my aunt’s house. Merciful because with each step I took, I felt convinced that all my leg hair were planning a mutiny. Still, I felt good. Heads turned as I walked past and I just knew I was going to have a great day. Staying with my aunt at Lekki was definitely one of the better ideas I had had in quite a while. Of course, I only held this point of view till she returned from work and her kids returned from school and the errands started piling up.

Not to mention her personal assistant that was constantly giving me the eye.

He was cute anyway.

But who wants to date a P.A?

Besides, I had seen his salary cheque before. Not good enough for a trip to the Bahamas.

I put those thoughts out of my mind. I was here to win, I told myself. Win the cutest, richest guy that came to watch the match. I already knew who that was; I had got word that he would be at the stadium. Which was why I was headed to a place I normally wouldn’t be found at to save my life.

I arrived at the stadium and could hear noise all the way from where I stood outside. Seriously, were things this bad? This was me, outside a football stadium for goodness sake! I was sorely tempted to head back and call it off.

One of the cars parked close by convinced me that that wasn’t a good line of action.

There were two ways to get into the stadium. One would take me to the lower level, closer to….the field or whatever they called the surface the footballers play on. No, I decided. I would barely be noticed. And the last thing I wanted was for an errant ball fired by one of the players to knock me out and instantly make me the laughing stock of the stadium. The shame would send me back to my father’s house at Surulere.

Instead, I would take the stairs that led up to the top and out to the upper level of seats. Would make me look like Cinderella showing up at the prince’s ball, except in my case, there would be more yelling and no dancing.

I swore silently as I mounted the stairs. This was the very last time I would wear this pair of pants. Whichever guy I snagged today would have to pay for the torture I was experiencing now….shopping at the mall would be the very least I would accept.

Emerging at the top level, I quickly scanned the stadium. There was only a small crowd and it was packed together some distance away from where I stood. As expected, I thought to myself. Lekki Boys versus Island Islanders was hardly Chelsea versus Manchester United. Suited me perfect, anyway. Plenty of empty spaces for me to sit and look totally conspicuous in to be spotted by my prime target…..or any other alternative target that happened to be around.

And yes, I saw a few heads turn in my direction. The Tolu effect was kicking in.

I gingerly walked down to a seat I had chosen; far enough for me not to smell any possibly unwashed bodies from the crowd and high enough for me to be spotted from any corner of the arena. I glanced around cursorily like a queen at her subjects before perching my shades on my forehead, sitting down, crossing my legs and opening a book I had exactly no intention of reading. I had never opened it before, but right now, I headed straight to chapter five.

http://tolusconvos.tk/2013/tolu-personally/silly-romantic-the-tolu-effect-1-short-story-series-by-me/

*subscribing* personali i tink ur story sounds great weldone .

Cavalli: *subscribing* personali i tink ur story sounds great weldone .

thanks!!!

Nice one!

mercilize: Nice one!

thanks for reading!!!

Hmmm.. nice introduction but you havent realy told us who you are or atleast describe yourself, im guessing its a 'suspence' strategy so fingers crossed as i hope you would break it down to us soon enough tho, and who is shola? You friend or aunt, am kinda confused in that aspect too.. Nice story all the same... *following*..