DIARY OF A FUNAABITE – PART 3 (MY LOVE LIFE SERIES)
By Kayode Oluwaseun David

I guess it was a Saturday afternoon. Oh, I know it’s a Saturday afternoon, came back from church and I just wanted to chill out somewhere, but the problem is where I should.

The previous night was like bad, because I broke a golden heart, Suliat’s that is. I was feeling bad not because I lose her, but because she was feeling bad. I had no choice than to call it quits, because I thought it over and over and came to that vital conclusion that the relationship was not worth it; there was no future for us. Suliat was a chronic Muslim and I was a very good Christian. Yea, you would ask, “Why did I get into it in the first place?” the truth is you would get offended, because I would take that question as rhetorical. Suliat was sweet, caring and loving, I can’t deny that fact. But, the thing is why take it longer when it’s never going to last, so I became the man and called it off.

That Saturday afternoon delivered me a pack of goodies wrapped up in a dirty polythene bag. Hahaha! You asking if this guy has gone crazy, oh yea, you are right! Because you won’t be reading this if I am not crazily in love. Wait, with whom? Read more and you would find out.

“Aloba, will you go with us to the female hostel?” That was what I heard from my bunkmate when I was lying down pretending to be asleep. That sounded like the best idea at the moment. On a normal ground I don’t do female hostels that much, but that day was exceptional, I had nothing doing and I have to get Suliat past me. So I didn’t hesitate to voice out my approval. Dressed up in a rush that I even forgot to use my waste belt, and all I did through the walk was to help myself by pulling up my trousers. Embarrassing though, I still got to the female hostel that way. Our stroll along the passages in the female hall of residence was fascinating because I have to see my female departmental mates in a different way. It was different from the usual pan caked, powdered face combined with 20 kinds of perfumes that I use to see and smell at class every blessed day. I get to see that the ones that made us say, “One night is enough for me” weren’t really worth staying an hour with. I also noticed some beauties that I don’t even take note of in class because they don’t do what the others do. Hmmmmm, irony of life.
Read more at: www.humanrefinery./2014/11/13/diary-of-a-funaabite-part-3-my-love-life-series/