₦airaland Forum

YoungBruzzy:
Kayo80, hope you're doing good boss.
It's been a while.

I was sick, that's why my pace of posting reduced. I'm fine now, but I went somewhere to rest.

I'll be back posting next week. Thanks for checking up on me.

Chapter 9 : In Lillian's Universe : Part 3 (Confusion)


Daniella and I saw each other many times after her first visit to my apartment, and it wasn't always at my place. Most times, we would hang out at bars, drink and talk about crime, and what made career criminals choose a life of crime. Hanging out with her was sort of a form of escapism for me. The fact that I didn't have to think of getting serious with her and we could talk about something we both had in common was fun. 


When Lillian got to know what was going on between Daniella and I, she said at last I had someone to help with my pent up sexual energy. She didn’t seem to have a problem with it, but with time, I noticed a sort of jealousy there. They weren't close friends, but attended the same church, and stayed a few streets away from each other. The thing with Daniella wasn't premeditated and had happened so fast that I hadn't had any time to do any research on her. But still, I didn't feel I was in the wrong, as I wasn't in a relationship with Lillian, and even though we had been lovers in the past, she was just my friend now. I thought she wouldn't have any issues with my new friendship with Daniella, but I was wrong.


On many occasions, before Daniella came into the picture, Lillian would always joke and say things like, 'you know I love you' whenever she helped me with something. I have always believed a lot of truth is shared in jest, so I would wait till we had time alone, and let her know I still had feelings for her, and that we could rekindle our love. But she would always shut down the idea, claiming she liked me as a friend, and nothing more. Considering the fact that I had dedicated most part of my adult life to achieving my goals I always thought maybe I wasn't good with reading the room, and so would try and go the physical way with her; less talk, more action. I would move close to her on the couch while at her place, touch her face seductively, and all, and she would complain and ask me to stop. 


One weekend, while spending time at Lillian's house, I got a little carried away with her resting her head on my chest, and started caressing her. She got angrier than I had expected, flared up and started saying all I wanted from her was her body, that I never liked her. Before I could respond, she said the fact that I was sleeping with Daniella and still could think of even touching her sexually was disrespectful to her. I knew what I did was wrong, so I apologised, but I knew she had been looking for an opportunity to express her displeasure about the fact I was romantically involved with a friend of hers. It seemed like Lillian didn't want anyone to have me, even though she didn’t want to date me either.


That day, I left her house on a bad note, with unresolved differences. The following day, I called her to apologise, and promised I would never ever make any sexual advances towards her ever again, and that I would respect our friendship henceforth. She was happy about this, or so I thought. 


Later that day, I decided to visit her to seal the deal. She was walking a male friend out when I got to her place, and she asked me to wait for her upstairs in her apartment. The guy was one of her ex-boyfriends that I was familiar with. I had gotten to know a lot of her exes; for some weird reasons, they always flocked around her, even after years of breakup. 


I was waiting in her kitchen, helping myself with a glass of cold water, sitting on a tall stool by her kitchen cabinet when she walked in. My eyes went straight to her chest; under the fluorescent, I could see ample amounts of her breasts bursting out of the top of the black blouse she had on. I hadn't noticed this when I saw her earlier, I thought to myself. She asked if I would like to eat spaghetti and fish as she walked over to her pot. I said yes. My laptop bag was still hanging on my shoulder, and she suggested I go and drop it in the room and wait for her. 


She lived in a three bedroom apartment, with one of the rooms subleased to a university student. The other two rooms were hers, and most times when I came around, I always stayed in her extra room. But as I stepped out of the kitchen, she said out loud that there were a lot of mosquitoes in the guest room, and suggested I go to her room instead. What's really going on, I thought to myself as I removed the bag from my shoulder on my way to the room. 


I pulled out my laptop as I walked into the room, and put my bag on the small free space I found on her makeup table. My reflection in her mirror by the table showed me the progress I had made with the fifty pushups a day routine I started two months ago; my biceps were bursting out of the ash coloured t-shirt I had on. I cracked my neck a few times, before turning around and walking over to the bed. I had spent a couple of nights at her place since we reunited, and never got intimate with her. They were nights I caught strong winds of inspiration to write, and I didn't want to go home and risk losing the flow. Those were very creative nights. But I had a strong feeling this night was going to be a different kind of night.  


After dinner in bed she asked me to get a movie ready for us to watch on my laptop, while she went to shower. I had my head buried in my laptop browsing through downloaded movies when I heard the ‘pop’ sound from when a light switch is pressed. The smell of perfume soap filled the air as she walked into the dark room; my laptop gave off enough illumination for me to see she was in a see-through sky blue nightgown, with nothing underneath.


She slowly got in bed with me and asked what movie we would be watching for the night. We were both lying belly down, side by side, with the laptop at the head of the bed. I gave her three movie options and she chose Marvel's "Black Widow." 


We weren't halfway through the movie when she started slowly using her foot to caress mine. Considering the conversation we had earlier in the day, I was surprised she was the one now initiating this move. I decided to feign ignorance for a few minutes, till she stopped, then I slowly shut the laptop and turned to face her. The room was totally dark now, and all I could see were her eyes. Her breathing pattern told me she was in the mood. I moved closer and started kissing her gently. She moved in even closer, and her soft breasts were now pressed up against my chest as we engaged in a session of passionate kissing. 


After a while, I gently pushed her on her back. While leaning over her, I started to get out of my t-shirt. She helped me out of it quickly, and we were back to kissing. This time, I was on top of her. When she pushed me back after a while, and was attempting to get out of her nightgown, I suddenly had a rethink. It will amaze you how fast the human brain can work in a couple of seconds. This morning, she said she didn't want anything sexual in our relationship again, but right now we were about to go all the way. I thought of all the things that would change if we went through with this, and I just said, "stop."


She froze, and stared at me confused. I slowly lay on my back and said nothing. She leaned in to ask me what was wrong, and after staying silent for a few seconds, I told her I wasn't comfortable going ahead with what we were about to do. She was dumbfounded for a few minutes, and I could tell she was pissed off. After a while, she sighed and lay on her back. 


We both stared at the ceiling, deep in thought. No words were exchanged again that night till we both fell asleep.

Kawo9ze:
True, there's much traffic on twitter than here though I still prefer nairaland cuz of its free mode
The story will have to be catchy if you opt for twitter

But Twitter is free too.

Kawo9ze:
If you thread that path, you may not finish it till forever o

lol!

What's up guys...to the writers reading this, where else do you post your stories asides from Nairaland literature section? A frined of mine came to see me last weekend and saw me uploading a chapter of my story on here, and he was shocked that I still post stories here. He suggested I post on Ttwitter instead, claiming that Nairaland was not what it used to be. I just shook off that thought, but last night, one of my readers commented on one of my stories implying that nairaland was dead. It got me thinking.

It's not like I want to stop posting on nairaland, but I would love to know where online I can get a lot of hungry readers. Thanks in advance.

nastynic:
Bruh, you ma know say NL don die na. Run am for boys sir

lol

Kawo9ze:
18 out of 150
Its much o

If I can't get 150 people that want to read a story for free, on a big platform like Nairaland, why proceed with writing It?

Chapter 8 : In Lillian's Universe : Part 2 (Daniella)


The following day, I was home watching documentaries on Idi Amin Dada, trying to get into the mind of a ruthless killer when my phone beeped. I ignored it at first, but when it vibrated again, I picked it up from my bedside stool and saw the messages were from Daniella, the shapely girl from yesterday. She introduced herself, and asked how I was doing. We had ended up talking briefly just before she left Lillian’s and had exchanged digits, but I was surprised she was the one hitting me up, instead of the other way around. I had found out she was doing her Masters in Criminology at Lead City University, which was on the outskirts of town. Being a crime writer, this new knowledge increased my curiosity in knowing her more. But never did I think she would be chatting me up the very next day. 


I hit her back with, 'how are you doing' and she immediately responded with 'fine.' We chatted randomly for a few minutes, but  when she hit me with, 'I'm here alone with my teddy bear' I knew her intentions. I sat up in bed, my mind racing, thinking of what I was about to get myself into. My mind told me no, but my body said yes. I took the discussion down another path, but she brought it back to her intent with the question, 'where do you live?' At this point I decided to play along with her. I told her where I lived, and asked if she knew the neighbourhood. She said yes. When I asked her to come over, I wasn't at all shocked when she responded with, ‘okay.’.


She said she had to run a few errands, but would be at my place at noon, and asked if I would be home. I looked at my watch, noon was in two hours. I still needed time to soak in what was about to happen, so I asked her to make it 1pm instead. She agreed. After ending the chat with her, I dropped my phone, shut the laptop and got off the bed. I had a lot of work to do. 


I kept my one bedroom apartment from before I became successful, and used it as a writing spot for when I didn’t want distractions. That was where I was, and the place needed a little tiding. The good thing about living in a small place with very little belongings is that you can be done with cleaning the entire place in under an hour. I had just a bed, bedside stools, a reading table, and two wooden chairs in my room; no TV, or home theatre system. After cleaning up, I needed to get some groceries, so I grabbed my car keys and stepped out. 


I had bought my white 2007 Kia Cerato when I started making money 3 years ago and by the time I got rich and moved to my new apartment, with a new car, I decided to keep the Kia in my old apartment. I didn't drive it much, but it was very reliable, and kept me grounded. As a crime writer, having a double life helped with my creativity, and I intended to keep things this way for as long as I could.


On the drive back to the house from the mall, I saw the realtor that had gotten me my apartment on the road just before my street, and he waved me down to inform me that my rent would be due next month. I smiled as I told him I would pay on the due date. It was funny how I used to struggle to come up with my rent in the past, now the same money I could spend in one day on a date. 


When I stepped back into my apartment, I dropped all the paper bags on my reading table and carefully pulled out the bottles of Guinness Stout, along with the bottle of Smirnoff Ice. I had forgotten to ask her what she would drink, but I remembered her having a bottle of the Smirnoff at the party yesterday, so I bought it anyway. On my way to the kitchen with the three bottles, I thought  of my generator and whether there was still fuel in it. After shutting the refrigerator door, I remembered I still had a gallon of fuel in my store. 


Back in the room, I pulled out the half a dozen packs of air fresheners I had bought at the mall and went ahead to hang them on the walls in my bathroom, kitchen, and at every corner of my room. When I was done with that, I got on the bed, and opened my laptop to continue my research on the former Ugandan president. 


I was engrossed in the videos I was watching on Youtube when my phone started to ring. It shocked me when caller ID showed it was Lillian calling. She never calls, she prefers chats, so this surprised me. I was even more shocked when I picked up and she asked if I was home, letting me know she wanted to come over. One thing about Lillian, she loves her work more than anything in the world, which was the reason she liked people coming to her instead. I always asked her to come see me, but she always said no; why today, I thought to myself.


She felt dejected when I told her I wasn't home. I could tell from her voice that she knew I was lying. When I ended the call, I looked into space for a couple of minutes lost in thought before resuming what I was doing before the call. 


I was dozing off on the bed when my phone started to ring again. This time, it was Daniella. She was at my house gate, and asked how to locate my apartment. I told her I would be out in a minute. When the line got disconnected, I got off the bed, smoothened it out, and stepped out of the apartment. On the walk to the gate, I was thinking of how the visit would turn out. Even though I had an idea of what she wanted, I still didn't know exactly how things would play out. 


 My compound had two buildings, with a total of twenty-two mini apartments in them, so there was always someone coming, or going. She was in a navy blue gown, similar to what she had worn yesterday; tight fitting, making her curves pronounced. A smile appeared on her face as she saw me stepping out of the gate and she moved closer. Her beautiful chocolate complexion was shining under the sunlight. She smelled so nice when she gave me a hug. I could see a few of my male neighbours staring at us from where they sat on the short fence of a mosque opposite our building. I was sure they would have made a move on her if I had wasted a little time coming out. 


On our walk to my apartment, she told me how her place is not really far from my place, but that she had never been in this part of town before. When we got in, I asked what she would like to drink while I pulled out my bottle of stout from the refrigerator, and she said nothing for now. 


We both were seated on the edge of the bed, talking when she said her back was hurting and asked for permission to lay down on the bed. Things were moving even faster than I had anticipated, I thought to myself. Now, we both had half our bodies lying horizontally on the bed, with our legs still on the ground. She was laying with her back on the bed, while I was propped up with my arm supporting my head.

I would never consider myself a casanova, but when it is very obvious what a girl wants, I am never a slouch in such situations. I started caressing her lower arm while talking, and then I slowly worked my way up to her upper arm. She turned and faced me when my hand wandered off to her bra strap. Now we were facing each other, faces inches apart. I stopped what I was doing for a second to read her reaction, my face showing no expression. After a few seconds, I continued with my actions. A slow smile appeared on her face; and when I leaned in for a kiss, she met me halfway.

Bam17:
I thought I was the only one complaining about ghost readers. Nairaland has a lot of them. Don't know if it's pride or what. Just don't know. They think writing a story is easy. Sha, don't even want to get started on them.

lol! I understand you.

Bam17:
Mr Kayode, my Mentor I greet you, Sir. It's been long. How are you doing? Really happy you're back Please don't leave us again. I missed your stories. Oh, and I owe you many thanks. You motivated me back then. Can't wait to learn more from you.

Yeah, it really has been a long time. Good to have you back too.

Chapter 7 : In Lillian's Universe : Part 1


One thing about being 40 and single is that all your friends and relatives keep asking you one question; 'When are you getting married.' It gets to a point, you stop picking calls from some specific aunties. I remember one of my aunts said she saw it in a dream that I was going to get married in a certain month. I was under a lot of stress to make her dream come true that my ulcer got serious and I had a case of internal bleeding. After spending 3 weeks hospitalised, my family members let me be for a while.


I was chilling at home one day, going through Facebook on my laptop when I saw Lillian's post advertising her fashion line. She was one of the lovers I had in my struggling years. Meeting new girls had become really exhausting, and I was in the mood to socialise with someone that already knew me, so I chatted her up. I was surprised she responded, because the last thing she had said to me back then was that she never wanted to see me again. Lillian had been happy with us being in a no-strings relationship, till one day she gave me an ultimatum to make things official or leave her alone. When I couldn't, she blocked me on all platforms, except Facebook. 


After chatting with her for a few hours, on and off that day, she invited me to her church. It was a new generation church, and they had given their members a target to bring in new people every Sunday. I agreed to come, but I said I wanted to see her before that day, so we agreed to meet the following day. 


Lillian was always busy with her fashion line, and asked if I was comfortable with us meeting at her fashion school, instead of at a restaurant. The place was located in the centre of town, and I already had some business to do around there, so I agreed to it. 


Her spot was well furnished, with over a dozen sewing machines in the main room that housed all her students. One of her other rooms was used as a showroom, and another as her office. She was really entrepreneurial, and I was impressed with how she had grown since we last saw each other. 


At the time, I had decided to hide my wealth from girls, so I went there by public transport. She had not changed much physically; average height, not fat or slim, but a bit busty. Her caramel complexion was a little more polished now than I remembered it being; a sign of good living. On our walk to her establishment from the bus stop, she said nothing about our last conversation before she cut me off back in the day so I didn't bring it up. 


It was 7pm, and all her students had left. We sat on a couch in the receptionist area and caught up on old times. Old habits die hard; I got a little bit too comfortable sitting next to her on the comfy couch and I started caressing her. She didn’t let the act go on for too long before sternly asking me to stop. I respected her request and kept a little distance between us. 


She spent the rest of the night talking about her new church family and how they had been a strong support in her life since coming out of depression last year. There was a spark in her eyes as she spoke about them, and I was happy for her and couldn't wait to meet all the people she had been telling me about.


I spent the next few weeks in Lillian's world. I was having writer's block working on a new short crime story, and her fashion school was refreshing to come to. I would sit around, just listening to her talking to her clients, and interacting freely with her students. I have always believed the saying that truth is stranger than fiction, and the more I listened to people's stories, the more my belief grew stronger. My lightweight Chromebook laptop was always with me, and I typed away whenever I felt a rush of inspiration. My poultry farm had CCTV cameras, and motion sensor fluorescent light poles installed in every corner, so I could monitor everything on the farm on my laptop.


Lillian understood me well, was very lively, and she lived a very flexible life; these were some of the characteristics I was looking for in a potential partner. But when I told her I wanted us to give dating a shot again, this time seriously, she declined the offer. She said she would rather have me as a friend. I didn't feel offended about the rejection, I was just surprised because I knew that was what she always wanted. But that was three years ago, and people change. 


Her rejection didn't change my visits to her spot. She grew up with a very large family and always loved having a lot of people around her. I became part of the new family of friends she had created for herself, and became close with her friends. She used to always say she had a friend she wanted me to meet, saying she would love it if I could date her. That always confused me, because even though she had told me she wasn't interested in dating me, she was still very clingy; sitting pretty close to me on the couch whenever I came over, or holding my hand when she would walk me to the bus stop. 


When she finally did introduce me to her friend, Hellen, I found out it was someone I had seen in her church a few times. She was a cool girl, funny and jovial, but I wasn’t physically attracted to her. So I just made her my friend; someone I would talk to every now and then on the phone, but nothing more than that. 


And then the day that changed the dynamics between Lillian and I's friendship came. She invited me to a get-together party she was having at her spot. It was a busy day at the poultry, as I had just closed a deal for a monthly supply of 500 chickens to a restaurant. I had to be on site to monitor my workers as they butchered and dressed the birds for delivery. But Lillian kept calling, begging me to come for the party, so I finally agreed. If only she knew how me being at that party would change everything between us, she would have let me be. 


The party was filled with Lillian's friends I already knew, and some I didn't. It was almost over, with the music turned low when this curvy girl walked into the room dressed in a sky blue body fitting gown. Her hourglass shape caught my attention immediately, and I had to look away when I noticed I had been staring at her too long. She was what Gen Z calls slim thick. After greeting Lillian and a few other people, she came and sat on the couch right next to me. Without saying a word to each other, I could feel the sexual tension between us. I couldn't help myself; it was like some sort of magnet was drawing me to her. I would later learn that she felt the same way I did at that point.

Kawo9ze:
Years now and you haven't completed this story kayo80

I'll try and complete it after the story I am currently working on.

But I will say this again (cos i have said it many times)...when you're not getting "likes" on a story, you get less motivated about it. And when you abandon it, the ghost readers start coming out of the woodwork to complain. lol! If you scroll up, you will see that the last chapter of this story only got 'one' like...but like 5 people complaining about me not posting again. If you like a story, 'like' it...it takes less than a second to do so.

Chapter 6 : Re-entering The Dating World at 40


When I decided to start dating again, I realised most of the women in my age range were already married with kids. I didn't want to go for girls I was 10 years older than, but technically, I had no choice. And then, I never could get through the talking stage. I dreaded this stage so much, because the questions from the girls were always the same. ‘Are you married?’ 'Why are you single at this age?' 'Do you have children?' 'How old did you say you were again?' These are some of the questions I get asked by the women on the first date. Although it is understandable that they ask these questions, it gets exhausting going through the scrutiny every time. 


Anytime I get asked the predictable questions, I usually remember the one time I interviewed GT The Guitar Man back in the day. I worked briefly as an entertainment reporter for a magazine in Lagos back in 2009, and handled all the celebrity interviews for the company. The interview took place in his car, parked outside his house. Immediately after answering my last question, he let out a huge sigh that made me laugh. He let me know he was tired of answering the same questions over and over. But when he was driving me to the bus stop, he was genuinely excited discussing American Hip Hop music with me. Just like him, I was exhausted after the series of predictable questions I got asked by women on the first date. I knew they were doing their due diligence by asking those questions, but I just wanted to skip those questions and talk about fun stuff, not questions that reminded me of my age. 


There is only one year between 39 and 40, but I realised if I told girls I was 39 and single, they didn't look as shocked as if I told them I was 40 and single. 


I had a flashy car, dressed nice, and looked great for my age, thanks to my athletic figure, so I had no shortage of women's attention. The only issue I had were the questions, or knowing whether they really liked me or they were just coming around for the money. After a while, I decided to try reconnecting with some of my old flames from my university days that were still single. I was able to find three. 


Chioma was the youngest in our set when we were in school, so she was still 36 when I found her. We used to have a mutual love for rap music, so I felt we would at least have something to talk about. We didn't get to see each other before I removed her from my list of prospects. She was an entirely different person now; all she wanted to talk about was Jesus. I had no problem with overly religious people, but we were no longer compatible. 


The second was Zainab; a girl I had dated briefly back in school. She was now a bank manager in one of the oldest banks in Nigeria. We were reconnected by a mutual friend who stayed in touch with her all this while, because they were both bankers, and had worked at the same bank at different times. The problem with her was that she never had time. Even when we would go on dates, her phone would ring constantly and interrupt our conversations. After a while, I decided it was best we just remained friends.


The last was perfect for me; she was everything  I wanted in a woman. Shade hard a warm personality. She was brown complexioned, beautiful, and average in height. She had also maintained her slim physique, which made her appear younger than she was. Most of all, she didn't ask me multiple questions concerning my single status at 40. 


Shade and I had been very good friends in school. I got to know her when she intervened after a lecturer had sent me out of the lecture theatre during an examination while I was looking for a sharpener. If it wasn’t for her, I probably wouldn’t have written that examination. I looked for her to say thank you after the paper, and from there, we became good friends. Reconnecting with her was thanks to Facebook. I was surprised she still had her infectious smile, and hadn't let the societal pressure to get married rub her of her sparkle. Ironically, she said her mom had been asking of me for some weeks before I reached out to her. It all felt like it was meant to be, until one day when I found out we were both AS genotype. 


I didn't immediately give up on our love after that; I believed I could find a way around the complication. I was still doing research on a way out when I got a call from a close friend of mine. He was out of town, and his son with sickle cell had a crisis. The hospital wasn’t comfortable with just the boy’s grandma being the only person to stay the night with him, and my friend called on me to help out. This was a friend that had helped me on many hungry nights in the past, and I knew the son since he was a baby. I was even at his 16th birthday party just two weeks ago, so I agreed to spend the night at the hospital with the boy. I didn't sleep throughout the night; the boy kept crying from excruciating pain. The nurses would come over to administer painkillers in the form of injections, but he would start crying minutes later. I would massage his legs and arms with aboniki balm for several minutes before he would be at a state that resembled a little comfort, but after a few hours, he would be in pain again. It was very painful watching him go through so much pain all through the night. 


The following morning, when my friend and his wife got to the hospital, and I narrated the whole ordeal to him, he didn't seem shocked. He thanked me, and said it was what he had to deal with anytime the boy had a crisis. When I got home that day, I knew I had to kill my plans of marrying Shade, as sad as it seemed. If we go ahead, knowing the possible outcome, then we would be very selfish parents. We agreed going our separate ways was the best for the both of us but still remained friends. 


After ending things with Shade, I spent a lot of time on my poultry farm. I rented a furnished apartment close to the place, and was there every morning by 6, even before my workers arrived. I loved nature, and there was abundance of greenery around the farm. I loved sitting on a tree stump close to the chicken pen, listening to birds chirping, and chickens clucking, waiting to be released for the day. My birds were not cage raised, but free ranged. Watching them roam the length and breadth of my land chasing insects before they got fed was always therapeutic for me. 


After the two weeks spent on my farm, I decided to give the dating world another try. This time I decided to try out the church scene. It ended up being more interesting than I thought it would be.

Chapter 5 : My 20s & 30s (Part 2)


Sometime in my late teens, after overhearing some guys in my neighbourhood calling me Mandela behind my back, I started dying my white hair. But by my late 20s, I no longer cared about the patch of white hair on the right side of my head. I would live it that way, and only occasionally dye it black when I felt like it. 


I had started working as a supervisor at a sausage factory shortly after my national youth service, and one day while eating during lunch break I noticed a new industrial attachment student staring at me. In the factory, we had our lab coats, facemask, and head scarves on at all times, and the only time we got to see how each other really looked was at the canteen at lunch break. I was wondering if the girl was staring at my white hair and I got uncomfortable.


I caught her staring again the following day and I decided to talk to her after lunch, but she beat me to it. I was inspecting a small assembly line with about a dozen workers, when she slowly walked up to my side. She stood there and watched what I was watching for a few minutes before turning to face me and asking me why I was so quiet.  It hit me off guard. I didn't expect her to be that bold, especially to her superior at work. The management had advised the supervisors to have limited interaction with the factory workers to keep the respect, but unlike my fellow supervisors, I took things a bit too far, and applied that to all workers. 


That day, we exchanged phone numbers, and continued to chat after work. It was clear to me now that she was never staring at my white hair; it was just a simple case of physical attraction. Jade was just a few inches shorter than I was which was tall for a girl. She was slim, but also curvy at the same time; Apart from having a warm personality, that was another of her qualities I was attracted to. With her brown complexion, I saw her as a rare Benin bronze sculpture. 


Even though we never made things official, we got called into the HR office one day for issues concerning inter-office dating. I guessed the mutual attraction was obvious to everyone else. We made conscious efforts to reduce our interaction during work, and saw each other more often after work. 


I was 27, she was 24; I felt it was a perfect age gap for marriage. And then I was hit with the bombshell when I had walked in on her talking to a guy on the phone at the factory canteen. She didn't deny who he was, and told me they had been dating on and off since her first year at the university. I had not officially asked her out, so she didn’t owe me any explanations. I was just vexed that she had allowed me to fall in love with her knowing she had someone she was already dating. I had a feeling she was waiting for  me to ask her out, so she could break up with the guy. But I just didn't like the whole thing, so I slowly withdrew from her.  


I left the company a few months later to start my master's program at my alma mater, but Jade and I remained friends. With a lot of free time on my hands at this time, I started reading motivational books. I got hooked on books like Rich Dad Poor Dad, and Think and Grow Rich; I read them over and over again. These books changed my way of thinking, and I no longer wanted to be a worker; I wanted to be a full time entrepreneur. At the time, I had an entertainment blog I was running as a hubby, and I decided to take it as a full time job. The year was 2010, I had been running the Hip Hop blog for two years at the time, and I saw a lot of prospects in it. It was my way of earning dollars, which was my ultimate goal. I saw the advantage of that over earning in Naira long before most people my age did. 


The numerous motivational books I had read at the time had made me understand that no great deed is ever achieved without sacrifice, so I was ready to sacrifice sleep, pleasure, relationship and any other forms of comfort just to make my dream come to fruition faster. I threw myself into my blogging career full on. The years that followed were the toughest and most challenging years of my life. 


I wasn't making any meaningful money from the blog in the beginning, and I depended solely on an allowance I was placed on by a relative who believed in my dream. The only issue was that the money she was giving me monthly was barely enough for feeding. I didn't want to get a job as I believed in total focus. I would blog for 14 hours daily, 7 days a week. I wasn't taking care of myself, and having a girlfriend was out of the question. My brother and I were renting a 3 bedroom apartment together at the time. A lot of times when he would go out clubbing with his friends, they would always be amazed at how I would blog all through the night while they clubbed. One morning, when I let them in after they had been out clubbing all night, my brother shook his head and said something I would never forget. He said, ‘when you make it in the future, people will believe it was luck. They would never understand the amount of work you had to put in to become successful.’


I had blogged for six years without earning anything substantial till an investor came in. I remember the day he gave me a cheque for a million naira. It wasn't what I was expecting, but I had worked myself to exhaustion at the time, and I needed a break. The year was 2014; I remember going to shop for some clothes, paying for a 12 month internet subscription and buying food in the house. After six months, the whole money was gone, and I was back to working long hours like a slave on a plantation in 18th century America. 


It took me working on my blog for 8 years straight with no reasonable income to realise that the particular niche I had chosen for blogging wasn't going to get me any headway. I quit and got depressed. I had spent almost a decade of my life on a project that didn't amount to anything. At this time, most of my friends were already married and doing real good financially; I was still broke and single. On many nights, I had suicidal ideations, but close friends and family kept me going. 


I had always had a passion for writing stories, and I decided to start writing crime stories for sale on the internet. My years of writing multiple articles for my blog daily paid off as I had become a very fast writer and creative thinker; I was able to churn out multiple crime stories in a very short period of time.


Within a year of my writing career, I was already making enough Dollars to live a better life. Although I wasn’t at financial freedom status yet, this was a lot better than my former life. 


I decided to relocate to Ibadan from Lagos as I felt that would help me further focus on my new career path. This decision paid off. I was able to work long hours with little to no distractions. And the more work I put in, the more my income grew. 


After working at my writing career for 5 years, I looked up one day and realised I was there; I had gotten to where I had always wished for. My 5 bedroom dream home was almost complete, I lived in a well furnished apartment, I owned two cars, I ran a successful poultry farm, and had millions in the bank. I never wanted to be a billionaire; I just wanted to attain financial freedom doing what I love, and I had achieved the goal.

I remember the first time I drove my 2020 Toyota Camry past the security of the mall I went to regularly in my neighbourhood, and the security guards were all smiles, greeting me, expecting me to tip them some money. I shed tears as I sat alone in my Camry at the carpark. A few years ago, I was looked at like a man with no bright future, now I was being looked up to by strangers. 


My dream had become a reality, and I was rich, earning 10 times what most of my old friends were earning. But another reality hit me; I was 40 and single. Damn!

YoungBruzzy:
Your work rate on this street is second to none, ngl
Your consistency and ability to deliver >>>>

Keep up the good work boss

Thanks for this comment. I really appreciate it.

Chapter 4 : My 20s & 30s (Part 1)


Everything comes to an end. By 19, I had to go and live with distant relatives because I was partying too much, and I hadn’t been able to pass my JAMB exam after three tries. I lived with the family, on and off, till I turned 20. It paid off, because I finally got a great score in JAMB; a strong enough score that got me into the University of Lagos with no hassle. 


At this time, most of my other friends had gotten into universities around the country. It was like a new start. I was a small fish in a big pond. I was able to attract females with my height, good looks, and knowledge of popular culture in my teens. Here, things were a little different. To get the hottest girls, you had to belong to a club, live off campus, or have a cool car. I tried to play in the big leagues for a while; stealing my mom's car to school a few times, and going to club parties. But that wasn't me. After my first year, I settled for a low-key lifestyle. 


One day, while home for the weekend, I reconnected with a friend of mine, Isioma. She used to be shy like me back in the day, but now she was the opposite. She was bold enough to tell me she used to have a crush on me, but not anymore. I laughed it off, because I knew the attraction was still there.

Standing at 6 ft 2, most of the girls I had gotten involved with in the past always had to look up at me. I liked the fact that Isioma was tall for a girl; it was a turn on for me. Also, she was a lightskin beauty that didn’t let her beauty get to her head. We officially started dating the following month. I was 22, and she was 21. 


In my third year at the University, after dating Isioma for about a year, she started hinting at marriage. The finality of that scared me, because I was just 23. She was 22, but was already done with the university, and waiting for youth service. One day, she asked me what I could do to improve my finances so we could get married. She said it as a joke, but I've always known that a lot of truth is shared in jest. Her parents knew of our relationship, and I guessed they were somehow behind this. As much as I loved Isioma, I didn't think I wanted to start a family at 23. I thought the whole thing through for a couple of days, and decided to at least go ahead with the relationship for now, and see how things go. 


Because of my love for movies and music, I believed opening a shop where I sold DVDs and audio music CDs was a great idea. I told Isioma about it, and gave her the breakdown of how much it would cost; one hundred thousand Naira. The following week, I got a call from her, asking me to go and collect the money at one of her dad's establishments. That afternoon, I walked out of the building with a bulky brown envelope in my hand; there was exactly one hundred thousand Naira cash in it. This was 2004, and as at then, that was the most amount of money I had ever had in my life. 


The first thing I did was rush to the bank to open an account, as I didn’t have one at the time. My parents gave me the empty shop in front of our house rent free, and I used a little over fifteen thousand to furnish the place. The remainder of the money was used to equip the place with the latest DVDs. This was before movie downloads, and the business was a huge success. It boomed, and I was making money for the first time in my life. Money gives a man confidence; I didn’t understand that till I started making my own money. I was able to see Isioma more often, and recharge my phone to call her every day. 


Business was great. The only issue was that my studies started to suffer. And when I decided to reduce time spent on the business and focus on my studies, my business started to suffer. 


I was in a dilemma; I  had to choose between my education and my business. I was in my final year at the time, and thought the best thing was to take a break from the business for the last 6 months of my university days. When I closed shop and decided to focus fully on my studies was when I discovered how behind I was with my studies. Everyone was already half way through their final year project, and I hadn't even met my project supervisor yet. I became overwhelmed, and it affected my relationship with Isioma. When you're fighting for your life, time flies. 


After one year of a very shaky relationship, Isioma and I grew apart. By the time I was doing my own youth service, and I had time to myself, I tried to rekindle things, but it was too late, she was already seeing someone else. 


About a year later, when I saw her wedding pictures on Facebook, I shed a tear. I went down memory lane, thinking of all the ways I could have made things work between us. She tried her best; one year of her life, she reached out constantly, trying to make things work, so I never blamed her when she moved on. It was all my fault. I can never forget her for the way she loved me unconditionally. I can never forget her for helping me set up my first business. Isioma brought a lot to the table, but I just wasn't ready.

Chapter 3 : My Teen Years (Part 2)


When my mom got an opportunity to come check on me at the clinic, I was feeling really sleepy. I guessed it was the effects of one of the shots I had gotten from the nurse. My mom hadn’t closed from work yet, so she took me to her colleague's apartment, just across the road from the clinic. The lady was about my mom's age, and she seemed to know me pretty well, as she called me Dada number 2 with a smile on her face when she saw me. My elder brother and I had dreads when we were kids, and the Yoruba language name for a dreadhead is Dada. 


I remember laying on her living room couch as she told me she had to go out, and would be back soon. Before she got through with explaining herself, I had already dozed off. When I woke up a couple of hours later, I took a few seconds to recollect my thoughts before opening my eyes. In those seconds, I could sense someone in the room. When I opened my eyes, sitting on the couch opposite me was the most beautiful light skin girl I had ever seen.


She sat with her arms on the arm rest, and her legs curled up on the couch. It was like she had been watching me sleep. She smiled when she noticed the confusion on my face. "Hi...how are you feeling?" She said with a soft feminine voice. 


"I'm fine." I said, and sat up immediately. I felt really vulnerable in the sleeping position I was in. The headache was gone, and my appetite was back. Just like she had read my mind, she asked what I wanted to eat. She said her mom had made me spaghetti before leaving for her night shift at work, but asked if there was any specific thing I would like to eat. Not wanting to stress her out, I said the spaghetti was okay. 


She left the living room for the kitchen, and was back with the food and a bottle of water in less than five minutes. She let me eat in silence for a couple of minutes, before asking me how the food was. I said it was great, and she smiled. It really was great, and did a great job at waking up my taste buds. From there, the conversation went to our favourite foods, and favourite snacks, to our favourite hubby. Unlike talking to the first girl earlier, with this girl, I was actually attracted to her. Every minute we spent talking, I was already planning in my head on how our wedding was going to be. It's laughable now, but that was just how magical the whole thing felt back then. 


Her name was Rosemary, and she had just finished her SSCE, while I had just concluded my SS2 final exams . But it didn't phase me, because I was always older than most of my classmates, as the gate accident I had as a kid had delayed my schooling. And from examining her all night, she didn't look older than me. I assumed we were probably the same age. 


By the time my dad and mom came to pick me up, it felt like we had known each other for years. But this was the 90s, and there were no GSM phones, or social media. And like a light from a matchstick, our fire burnt bright, but not for long. 


The following year, when I got through with secondary school, I went into the partying phase of my life. My brother was a popular guy that always had money, I was a DJ in the making, and my cousin Susan that lived with us had a lot of beautiful friends. We had a big house with no adults around most of the time. After attending a gig one day, we got an idea to throw our own party as we noticed we had everything needed for that. And that's how we got famous for having parties in my house every 3 months. It was a very interesting time in my life. Our parties always had abundant girls in attendance, which made it the talk of the town in our neighbourhood. I remember one particular party we had where a girl came with rollers in her hair. Her hairdresser was taking too long to be done with her hair, and she came like that so she wouldn’t miss the party.


I became a ladies man in this phase of my life, but the problem was that I wasn't dating any of them. My cousin, Susan travelled back with her brother during this time, and three of her closest friends in the neighbourhood became my close friends. They would come over to see me with their friends, and those girls also became my friends. Sometimes, I would have about half a dozen girls at my place watching movies. With time, my friends and brother's friends noticed this, and took advantage of it. I became the number one matchmaker amongst my friends.


I had so many female friends at the time that people would invite me to parties with the hopes that I would come with girls. I remember one particular event that remains fresh in my memory after all these years. It was a birthday party being held at the beach. The celebrant was a rich northerner's kid, who was spoiled silly by his parents. He had got word out to me two days before the event that he would be sending two cars for me to fill up with girls. As I said earlier, there were no smartphones at the time, so I had to do real work, going to the girls' houses, one by one. Some didn't want to go, because it was far from home. But I got enough girls interested to make a statement. 


I remember being awestruck when I walked out of my house on the d-day to two black Mercedes Benzes parked outside, with executive looking drivers, ready to go. It felt like the scene from Coming to America, when Prince Akeem’s dad came from Zamunda with his convoy in search of his son. You have to understand that I was about 18 at the time. This was before Yahoo boys made things like this achievable for teenagers. 


I took the drivers around my neighbourhood to pick up the girls, and I remember the look on the faces of boys as I picked up girls on their street and drove off. The experience was priceless.


The beach party was fun; great music, abundant food, and great people. The celebrant gave me a wad of cash once we arrived, and asked me to make sure the girls got the best treatment. 


This phase of my life was when I had the most girls around me. I had so many of them in my reach, but I was too busy matchmaking them at a fast pace that I never thought about myself. The thing I was doing was so magical to me, and I wanted to remain selfless. I thought if I got serious with one girl, then the rest wouldn’t want to be around me any longer, and I would no longer be the match make king anymore. Since it gave me a sense of self worth, I decided to remain single.


At the time, I thought I would be the match-make king forever, but nothing lasts forever. Nothing lasts forever.

yungfla:
Nice.. Storyline quite interesting & amazing dexterity👊 keep it up man hw can one get your books I mean your works like PDF files.

Thanks.

For now I only sell my books on amazon.com