The reeeaalll reason I was in SA was for this fancy marketing conference that brought together the keenest practitioners from across the continent. On day one I spotted her at a morning workshop. Later that afternoon we happened to sit beside each other at another. We spoke for minutes, but surely if Indomie can be ready and served in five, Chemistry should be discernible in less time.
I learned a while back that you’re more attractive to female company if your first few conversations are pleasant, interspersed with a giggle or two, and you end it. I don’t get why guys linger till they’ve run out of jokes and smart comebacks. Boxing fights have rounds for a reason; you need to regroup and re-launch. So I did like a baller and politely excused myself just when the sizzle was kicking in.
On the last day, after the last seminar, there was a mini soiree in the foyer. We ended up talking. Our conversation was so fun and meaningful; we had the same take on so many things, I was smitten. I mentally levitated when she actually took out a jotter to write some ideas I shared. She discovered I was visiting for the first time and she wrote out her number and offered to show me town…perhaps on Friday night? Why on earth not??!! About that time I should have left, rather I offered to walk her to the City Square fifteen minutes away. The night was beautiful, the breeze blew gently and the possibilities were truly endless.
Jollof Kicked In!
Somewhere along the line, she talked about being a good cook (my heart missed a beat) and I joked about how guys react when they meet a beautiful woman who knows Jesus and can cook jollof. That, my friend, was when our memorable Sandton walk took a nosedive; she wasn’t Christian. An ambitious, gorgeous, driven, intelligent beauty and she didn’t want Jesus in her life. So naturally I had to make a case for God and well, you can imagine what that did to the chemistry.
She (being a moralist) thought Christians were hypocrites, plus who could really tell if the Bible was reaalllyyy inspired by God? Where was He during her difficult childhood? Where is He now in her struggle to become rich and significant? Mind you, the hardest people to reach out to are intelligent, educated atheists; a purely spiritual matter is scrutinized through intellectual and analytical eyes. You know what’s funny? God has a weird sense of humor; he deliberately hides his wisdom from the wise. HE deliberately does that, that’s why you can never ever experience God until you put aside your impressive transcripts and Sherlock Holmes skills.
Fast-forward Friday night 9:30 pm.
Phone buzzes, it’s a text from her, which surprised me because she’d seemed somewhat withdrawn after the Jollof night.; “Hi Ben, been trying to reach you. Hope you’re still up for tonight?” I called back, the pub she was in was so noisy.
“Hey, can you come over, it’s super fun here. You must come!”
“I’m not sssuuure.” I said “I couldn’t possibly find the place. You could come over and we’d figure it out?”
“Hmmn, sure okay. How’s 30 like?”
Thirty minutes later she called to come meet her at the foyer. I was all dressed up so I thought we’d just leave. The elevator parted and there she was. Kweeerrrr, swine bog3! What-ah gerh! Not knowing, all the times I’d seen her before, she was in her conference look. Her Friday night look though, made inflammable sound like a child’s toy. Pink shorts so short it couldn’t have covered an exercise book if it was brown paper. On top of that was a regular black t-shirt and over that was a simple but elegant peach jacket that went lower than the shorts.
Maybe it was the flawless fair legs or the unexaggerated physique, but far from slutty, she was burning hot.
“Can we go back upstairs?” She asked smiling “I’d like to drop my bag in your room”
#gulp ♬…Ooh this gerh looks scandalous and I know another breda couldn’t handle it…. ♪♫
#doing the mental moonwalk cum electric dance cum azonto#
“Sure, no probs.”
Back upstairs, [Imagine if I paused here for a commercial break!]. I sucked my gut so back in you’ll have thought I was wearing a corset. I tried acting like some cool kid bi; pocketing and leaning against the wall like I was a model for some 90s catalog cover. It was lame, I had to do something! So I whipped out my cracked-screen HTC and posed with her for a picture. If only I didn’t look so silly in it, I’ll have shared it here for you to see.
So well, she got into her heels, we stepped out and those two minutes as we passed through the buzzing Maslow foyer, I felt how it must feel to be high. The porters, the tycoons, the frustrated married men, they all looked at me like they wanted to be me. Like “Who’s with that?!” Siiiaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh! Lol.
True Colors Emerge!
It’s expensive to be cool o bros, because minutes later we were at this classy bar/restaurant at the Square. Chic knew exactly what she wanted; a shot of Vodka Absolut with a mixer I cant remember. And there was me; this toothless bulldog who won’t waste stomach space on beer when there’s malt, but doesn’t mind a Smirnoff from time to time. This guy was sitting across the table from this hottie, what was he going to do? As the waiter took their orders, this Christian boy forgot about first service and second service and thought about his swag on the line. This boy remembered an SA scotch advert he’d seen and loved, and this boy looked at the waiter and said “Give this man a Bells!”
She had changed though, sounded different from when we first met. She snapped and had a fit with the tardy waiter. Maybe it was the Vodka bringing out true natures. She was apparently a third wave feminist, seemed too irritable, too haughty, too self-centered, too wild, too indifferent about opinions. With too great a sense of entitlement…the kind that erodes appreciation for the fact that it’s someone else picking the tab. By the time we were catching a cab back to the hotel I was very unamused. The pink shorts and all the bliss it represented had suddenly lost their sizzle.
I kept giggling though, like how you do when your little brother is fooling in the car, acting all untouchable because of all the people around and you know that home, cane and discipline are only minutes away. I was giggling because I could visualize how quickly I’d say bye when we got to the hotel. We were completely different. Our minds were cut out of different cloths. I couldn’t enjoy the things that thrilled her. She was a partying all-nighter and I missed my Maslow bed! I didn’t even want to try to keep up po! There was no ‘T’ in me to form thug with. Turned out when I stopped trying and became indifferent, she got much warmer. Too late ;-p…or nah?
The Club Showdown
Just minutes from when I was going to say “So are you going to meet up with any of your friends from here?” This Gh friend of mine pops out of nowhere and makes it his personal mandate to make sure the night didn’t end soon.
“Ben’s pretty friend” He started “You should show us SA night life o.” I twitched my toes and screamed in my head “Doooooonnnntttt!” like how Dexter reacted when he saw Deedee about to press the red ‘End the world’ button and there was no way to stop her.
“It’s he who wants to turn in.” she reported, “I’m game”
“Me? Have I said anything?”
This went on saah, and my Gh friend seemed so pumped. I think he thought he was doing me a favor, because he even went on to announce “Don’t even worry about how much, we got this.”
Yieeeeeee! This guy go kill me sha! Anyways, I eventually said “Why not?! It’s your call chic, tell us the next stop.”
An hour later (12:30am), we were minutes from 24 Central! Chic apparently kept a change of clothes on her every Friday. She changed into the kind of dresses you mustn’t wear with a bra on. Eeeiiiii Awurade! My friend’s excitement had waned because she’d given him some three or four rude answers bi. I laughed within. Fact is I’d never been to a club before! I always explained that I had enough sin in my life, why expose myself to new ones? But, a small part of me had always been curious. Could I discover what I was missing?
Viewers be advised, what follows must not be tried at home. I repeat, do not try this at home!
Immediately we arrived, chic was on home turf. She went a-hugging and all. Cool, no yawa. Then we had to pay to enter. Prices must have gone up without her permission, because the amount the ticket lady was asking for was a good 50% more than what she said to budget for. Because I hadn’t wanted to go (to begin with), I turned to my too-known friend. “Over to you Joe” Lol. He too hadn’t stacked enough. After we’d pulled out all our pockets, turned out we were 10 rand short. Apparently you’re always to send much more than you budget to spend on a chill spree. How was I to know??!!
Chic eventually grabbed the 10 from some thug-killa friend and clapped it in our hands like offertory from an offended choir master. Lol, it was supposed to be the most embarrassing thing ever, but I was more amused than anything else. The whole time it was happening, I kept thinking of telling you and imagining how you’d cringe when you read it here.
The second we entered the hole, chic vanished! If she’d stuck beside us, I’d have been stupefied. Even I would’ve skenched if I was her. We clearly had no wads to splash, what’s the point? In our lame defense though, most of our cash was in foreign currency. Going to the club was some way enough, I wasn’t going to melt money to finance it.
I learned that the club was deliberately small to make the fewest people seem like a crowd. Three sparsely dressed belly dancers gyrated atop three cubic stands scattered across the room. They were to keep testosterone flaring throughout the night. In the inevitable case that they got tired, there were two on stand-by. Hardly any of the guys had idle hands; it either circled a waist, held a cigar or balanced a glass. Since I had none of those (and couldn’t afford any), I had to constantly move round like I was looking for some old lost friend.
Then I got tired and wanted to sit; my Gh friend and I. O, we sat norrr, this muscled guy came to ask what we were ordering in a manner that clearly indicated “Yo. this isn’t a Legon drink-up! Spend money and sit, or take a walk.” Lol, we walked. I couldn’t fit in o people. I felt like a boil on a forehead. And I wasn’t sad that I didn’t fit in, I felt good! I felt good that my joy didn’t and couldn’t emanate from that crowd. I get twice their night-high from Psalm 23 p3. It’s much more affordable loving God o, truss me!
The irreconcilable disconnect I felt squeezing my way through the crammed 24 Central in a weird way became another sign that I hadn’t been fooling myself with this God thing after all. We really were a thing. He really was capable of giving me the kind of fun that won’t make me feel like I’m missing out. I could actually look at hot belly dancers twerk and not feel like I was missing out.
Thirty minutes later I found chic and told her I was returning to the Maslow. She understood and waved bye. And thus, a rather promising night came to an abrupt end.
PS: This was pretty long, I know. So if you actually read all the way to the end, do say hi. I’d like to say hello.
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