“Nice people don’t necessarily fall in love with nice people.” – Jonathan Franzen.

•••

…and that’s perhaps, the most fascinating thing about the social arts. Any man or woman, could build a criteria for developing feelings for the opposite sex, all they want—but the truth is, most of the time they don’t control it. It’s not that we as humans have zero control over our hormones, that we would fall in love with a rat for instance, without seeing it coming but there is only a level of control we have over it, and certain tastes that influence our preferences. Any person could have a type, in which they use in filtering out potential romantic partners but chances are, they’d come across a bunch of people, who don’t necessarily meet that criteria but because they are tasteful enough, are desirable also.

I very much like to use food in this analogy. You have a favorite meal, with certain ingredients that you love over every other thing in this world. But surely, definitely you’d stumble across another meal someday, that’s nothing like you’ve ever had, and because it’s so delicious—you’d lose your head over it, and it’d become your most favorite thing. Saturated pleasure could set in, and your preference might revert back to your original favorite food, but for that short moment—you’re all about that meal and nothing else in particular.

In essence, people have types and date a lot of people that fit into said criteria, but times will come when they would be willing to compromise said types, for something they deem worthy and because this is the social arts, they might not always revert back to their original preference. It could go either ways, depending on the person and the root of the feelings.

Some people fall in love, with people that don’t meet their criteria, because said people are refreshing. E.g. A woman, coming out of a suffocated marriage and falling head over heels, with a liberal man with a new perspective of life, in contrast to her ex’s conservative and sometimes, imposing mindset.

Some people also fall in love, with people outside their type criteria because they are something new, something daring, something adventurous. They say, opposites attract and that’s only because a lot of people, are attracted to intriguing things they don’t have in themselves and so, when they see the next person that has it, and it’s all cool, then it’s something to lose their head for.

An example is a girl from the country side, and a Christian home who has been drilled multiple times, to abstain from sex until marriage, and only encourage sexual relationships with prim, and proper men. Yet, said girl meets and falls in love with a playboy or a serial charmer. Whether she resists or not, or caves into temptation to heed the man’s glaring wants, she is inevitably drawn to him and is very vulnerable.

Why? It’s because this man, is like nothing she’s seen before. He is daring, adventurous and exudes a dangerous charisma, that although terrifies her, mesmerizes her also, because no man has made her feel this way. While the basis of attractions like this, are usually short-lived, nothing is for sure exactly.

Now the big question? What can a person do, when held captive by feelings like this? The most logical thing to do is to test the basis of said feelings. To ascertain, whether it’s grounded and solid, or simply an infatuation. How do you do this? Indulge. Date the person or befriend them, but exercise severe caution so you don’t get lost in it. Get close to them in some way, so you’d get to understand and know them better, than you do from a distance.

After all this, after knowing their pet peeves, after knowing their likes and dislikes, lifestyle and all, perception of life and everything else that defines them, if after all this and your feelings haven’t faded or turned off by something you find appalling in them, then it’s something solid and worth throwing your criteria away for. But if it isn’t, then stick to your criteria and move on. After all, said criteria was made for your best benefits.

NB: Unhealthy criteria that encompasses only vain, materialistic and superficial things, don’t apply here.

Anjola reclined on her desk chair, and yawned—stretching out her hands to its full length, so the stiffness in her joints cracked and came loose. It was Saturday morning, and she had just completed a light breakfast of mashed potatoes and scrambled eggs, whilst surfing through the net and reading up on a particular topic, that had been quite burdensome lately.

The article she had just finished reading on her tablet, was titled The Art of Criteria, and it delved deep into the huge ocean of controversy, surrounding the grounds of type-building for potential sexual partners. It was no news around the world, that many folks had found themselves prey to the vice of craving for a person, that didn’t fit into their prerequisite. And there was a mystery behind it, that no one could fully comprehend or fathom.

The article—written by a proclaimed relationship expert—stated explicitly, that people nurture feelings for people, who don’t qualify for their criteria because of a huge variety of reasons, ranging from a thirst for something refreshing or liberating, to the thrill of experiencing something daring and adventurous. And most times, said feelings eventually wear off but one could never truly know, until they tested the turf by initiating an intimate relationship, with said person. The final inference she drew was that, if the feelings withstood the hurricane of unveiling the person’s true nature and its downsides, then it’s genuine. If otherwise, it’s nothing but an infatuation that’s of course short lived.

Anjola assessed the message in her head, all over and over again like a forensics expert at a crime scene and couldn’t arrive at a conclusion, other than the fact that it was right. It all made sense, why she was attracted to Lekan and not Delano. Unlike the former, the latter fit her criteria. Handsome, smart, thoughtful, emotionally stable and well natured—yet all these, weren’t enough to heat up feelings in her. It was Lekan, the juvenile, playboy whose traits she found winsome. It was this conundrum, that triggered her scouring spree all over the net, to source for information that addressed her dilemma and now, she had made inroads and had knew where to go from her current location.

The article advised to get closer to the person in question, and if said feelings still withstood the test of time and reality, then it was legitimate and to be taken seriously. The thought alone roused tingly sensations, within and outside her body.

For years, she had put a staggering amount of distance between herself and Lekan, for her own sake because she knew of his heart breaking expedition, and now—she was being advised to do away with said distance, and close the gap between them? While the basis of the advice was concrete, it didn’t dismiss the fact that it was a hazardous thing to do. It could be likened to the action of manually disarming a radioactive bomb, emitting toxic radiation. One had to get closer and risk exposure, just to prevent the bomb from detonating.

Anjola sighed for a final time, and cleared out her empty plate and utensils on the table. After sinking into the plush, cushion of her living room three-seater—she retrieved her phone, from the nearest stool by the base of the chair and dialed Lekan’s number.

If they were to get closer, a framework had to be laid in some sense, and she wasn’t exactly relishing the idea of building said, foundation face-to-face. Not that she detested spending time with him. Rather, it was quite the opposite. She didn’t want to lose her head, in the usual dizzying ecstasy characterized by his invigorating company. Perhaps, she could brew a little drop of elixir that would grant her immunity to his charm and wit.

“Hey, Lekan. It’s Anjola.” There was a brief pause that ensued after he picked his line, which portended the fact that he was surprised she’d call him. It was expected, because in all the times they had known each other—she had never called him. But then the silence began to stretch longer than three seconds, and she began to wonder if there was anyone on the other end of the line at all. “Lekan? Are you there? Why aren’t you talking?”

“Because you aren’t talking,” His deep, sonorous voice purred into her ear finally, and her body quivered involuntarily in response. She didn’t like how her body responded so, urgently to his as if they had been past lovers. She could only help but hope, her feelings belonged to the type that were short lived and infantile.

The consequences were way too abysmal and catastrophic, if they weren’t. “You don’t call me, to say hi and you’re definitely not having a change of mind now. I figured you have something to say, an information of an important nature to pass, that’s why I patiently waited for you to get on with it. Hence, my silence.” He added.

Anjola scoffed, laying down on the couch with her head plopped on one arm rest and her legs, splayed on the other. “And since when, did you become so thoughtful, huh? That you started to consider the feelings of other people?”

“When the person is capable of locking me up in a toilet, abandoning me there, conning me with a hug just to steal my keys and stomping hard on my feet, in order to throw me off balance. I think you should understand why I don’t want to sit around, and play tease with you.”

Anjola couldn’t help but laugh. Although, she knew Lekan wasn’t impaired mentally or psychologically by her stints, it was still something to be joyous about. She had caused Lekan Keye, pain and distress of some extent. “Jeez, you make it sound like I visited you in the night, slit the throat of your wife that was cuddled next to you on the bed and used her blood to write on the walls, that you’re next but before you die, you’d suffer for all your sins and wish you were dead, to the point that you’d be begging for it.”

“Melodramatic, much?” She then noticed, he didn’t sound as cheery and alleviated as always, and it was then she deduced he wasn’t in the best of moods. “What’s up? What can I help you with?”

“Why do you sound like an injured puppy?” She pressed on with the inquiries, because she had no answer for him. How was she going to say, she wanted to get closer to him? In a ploy to fully grasp the true nature of what she felt for him. “You just met someone more impossible and annoying, than you are and you realized, you’re not the best in your field?”

“I wish,” She could swear he rolled his eyes at the moment. Another bout of hesitance, was exhibited by Lekan, which also made Anjola wonder how delicate the topic was. Or maybe, she called at a wrong time and he was in the process of pile-driving a woman, into an oblivion of pleasure. That would explain the entire awkward ruse. “Oh my God, you’re not…” She trailed off in uncertainty. “Doing it…are you?”

“Doing what?” Lekan sounded genuinely confused, until he sputtered into a hearty chuckle. The laughter lasted for almost a minute, and Anjola began to wonder if its roots were ingrained in mockery at her apparent naivety. “What? Why would I pick the call, while I’m having sex, Anjola?”

“I don’t know, the call could be urgent—”

“Even so, I wouldn’t even hear the phone ringing in the first place, not to talk of picking it.” Lekan replied, and the words that would have sounded revolting if uttered by someone else, managed to carry a huge, awakening weight with it. “So what exactly is your problem, Trailer? Judging from the way, you’ve been dodging and evading my questions—it’s obvious, there is no specific, urgent reason behind calling me. Which is what is doing numbers on me. You didn’t meet another Lekan, in your bible study group in church and happened to dial my number, instead of his, right?”

“Really? Bible study group?” Anjola rolled her eyes, at his classic taunt. It was no news to everyone that she had a strong faith that she believed in, which also influenced all aspects of her life greatly but she wasn’t some country side, native girl who knew virtually nothing as regards the pleasures of a contemporary life. While she didn’t indulge in most, it was a matter of choice and not ignorance. Lekan made it seem like, she spent all her free time in church and had little to no social life. “I’d let you know that I’ve gone on actual dates in restaurants and all, after meeting men the normal way, women meet them.”

“Calm down, that was clearly a jab—”

“I don’t joke with my faith, thank you very much—”

“Got it, loud and clear.”

There was a silence that was so loud, that it became agonizing and made Anjola contemplate hanging up, before Lekan spoke up.

“I’m going to my parents’ place in a bit.”

Her brows furrowed. “Huh?”

He cleared his throat, and she used the pause to adjust herself to a more comfortable laying position on the couch, by edging up so the totality of her head rested on the pillow. “Earlier on, you asked me why I sounded like an injured puppy, well that’s the reason. About a week ago, dad told me to take over the company and I refused, so he cut away all my privileges.”

“And now you’re heading over there to, what? Tell him, you’d forge your own path and become big without his help and support?”

“No,” Lekan groaned. And she couldn’t help but feel, he wished her words were true. “This is real life, Anjola not drama. I’m heading back to tell him, I’m ready to take over the company. Knowing my dad, he’s not going to make this easy at all. He already insisted that I come over, instead of just discussing stuff over the phone. Won’t be surprised if he has some high priest over there, just so I can swear on my life that I wouldn’t go back on the decision I made, in the nearest future.”

“Oh, come on. Your dad is a very tolerable person—”

“You don’t even know him—”

“I don’t, not really but I don’t need to, to know that much. I mean, you have been his son for almost thirty years and he is yet to throw you into a ditch and abandon you. Give the man some credit, Lekan.”

“Yeah, right.” Lekan growled. “How about you? Any parent being a pain the ass…oh, fuck that’s insensitive. I totally forgot.” The sudden dip of his voice, into a remorseful, terrified one made Anjola laugh in spite of herself. Was he that scared of her? “Sorry, I didn’t mean that. So what’s up with you?”

Anjola inhaled sharply, and realized she was about to engage Lekan in an actual conversation for perhaps, the first time since they’ve known each other. Their talks usually drifted from shallow banter, in which they tore each other for the fun of it, but now she was about to reveal details of her life to him. It felt so incredibly foreign, but in a way that was familiar—like the sighting of a flying UFO. After reminding herself, she needed to get close to him for the sake of controlling her feelings and not simply for the pleasure of, reveling in his company—she replied.

“Nothing much, bored out of my mind. No one to talk to.” Her left hand clipped the phone into place on her ear, while her free right hand simply swiveled back and forth, pivoted by her propped elbow on the chair. “Tiolu, honeymoon. Adaure, my close friend from work—probably at some party. Girl is hippie, and has a very vibrant social life. Ehize, another friend isn’t the type I’d talk to outside work. Not like our relationship is strictly formal, but all we do is just mess about. It’s nothing deep.”

“Really? I thought you were head over heels in love with him.”

She frowned, and couldn’t help but sit upright on the chair. “What? Ehize? Whatever made you think that?”

“I don’t know. You were looking at him with soulful eyes, and you locked me up in a toilet after I introduced myself to him, as your boyfriend?”

Comprehension dawned on her. “That’s not Ehize, silly. That was Delano, and trust me, I wasn’t looking at him with soulful eyes. He gave me a very expensive compliment, and the resulting smile had lingered in my eyes. Nothing much.”

“Hmm,” His curiosity seemed aroused. “And why can’t you talk to this, Delano guy?”

“Because I’m not interested in being more than a friend to him, and that would definitely happen if I talk to him more.” She let out with a breeze. “I was his plus one to the C.E.O’s birthday party, two evenings ago and it was…just there. Yeah, just there. We had a good time, and he made it subtly known that he’d like to date me but he’s not just it. At all.”

“And here was I, thinking he was totally your type.” Was that a sound of triumph in his voice?

“What do you think my type is?” She returned to her previous laying posture.

“Well, of the top of my head—a God fearing man, that would contribute an immense lot in you making heaven.”

She grunted. He was at it again. “That literally covers any type of man, to disfigured and paralyzed even.”

“Okay, okay. I guess it’s somebody devoted then. Good looking obviously, but I don’t think you care too much for that to prioritize it over stuff like intellects, emotional maturity. You’re a very matured person, Anjola. People like you don’t really have types. So far as the person looks good enough, and is proper and other stuff I’ve mentioned earlier, you’re good to go. Anytime I think of type, all that comes to my head is, three piece suited, house in Banana island and a fleet of Ferraris.”

Anjola chuckled again. “Not like, that isn’t nice. Yeah, you’re pretty correct. Prim, proper, intellectual and of course, good-looking. Looks aren’t top priority, but it’s very important. And you’re right to think he is my type because I thought he was but then, after spending the evening with him…I realized, he’s no fun.”

“No fun? As in, cracks dry jokes? That’s the worst. Having to fake laughs.”

“No, he doesn’t crack dry jokes. He is just…stiff. Almost nothing fun about him. I asked him what he does for fun, and he replied with jogging and reading business books. He also thinks music is distracting, and can’t really stand watching a movie. I mean, what the heck? Basically everything he does, adds value to his life. And that’s a good thing of course, but there should be some things you just do for entertainment sake. Just because, you love doing them. I didn’t even believe people like him exist. He’d probably live till the next century, because he never does anything unhealthy.”

“Interesting. And of course, you find these things undesirable.”

“Hell, yeah. I’m not going to get married to someone whose idea of fun, is volunteering extra hours at work, to help crunch more figures or attending seminars and refresher courses, for a honeymoon.” Anjola iterated with disdain in her voice. “In case, you’re wondering how marriage suddenly came into the equation, you should realize people like me don’t bother dating people they don’t see as potential marriage candidates.”

“That’s quite obvious, it’s on your vibe resume. So, what exactly do you want Anjola?”

“Are you my genie?” She scoffed. “I still want a modest man, that’s sensible and all but it’s of no use, when he’s no fun and he’s all stiff. But then, maybe fun is relative because I know a number of women at the office, that definitely think Delano fun and engaging. Maybe, the problem is with me, I don’t really know. But at least I know, Delano isn’t what I want.”

“You know, in situations like this—” Lekan seemed to sit up in his chair also, as indicated by his mild grunt and a shuffling sound. “—it could be possible, that your mind and emotions are clouded. Clouded, in the sense that there is someone close to you that’s well suited to your tastes, but because you want something else and even, unconsciously have your mind set on it, it would make the other person look bland and distasteful. Sure, Delano might do a lot of healthy things for fun, but in a parallel universe maybe, can you seriously tell me there is no chance, that you’d find those traits of his sexy, because it is indeed healthy and tells of intellects and a healthy life?”

Lekan’s words impaled her, like a tongue of fire and as if she were candle wax, she melted into herself and the realization, that it was plausible. Delano seemed to have no facet of recklessness to him, and in the past she was sure she’d have prided herself on the grounds, of finding such things desirable but now it was the other way round? Now she wanted someone carefree? And it wasn’t that there was no dazzling element to him. She just felt it was mostly inadequate. Could it be because her mind was set someplace else? On Lekan, perhaps. Was that why she found Delano lacking in charm and charisma? Because he didn’t measure up to Lekan’s overboard vibrant aura? If it were so, it all made sense.

“I am right, am I not? If not, you wouldn’t be so silent.” Lekan’s words pulled her out, from her haze of thoughts. “The words are sinking in, and you’re realizing that they are nothing but the truth. So, tell me? Who is this person that’s clouding your mind? For some silly girls, it’s probably a celebrity they can never get in their life, but surely not you. Right?”

Anjola didn’t know what made her tell him the truth, but it was too late before she realized the magnitude of her action. And the words were too consequential, to be retracted.

“It’s you, Lekan.”

“Me?” She could swear, he didn’t feign his surprise. He was genuinely shell-shocked. Could it be then that she didn’t appear fazed by him, like she thought? She didn’t give her façade enough credit then, if that were the case. “Wow, um…that comes as a huge surprise, because I know I don’t measure up to your criteria in anyway.”

“Yeah, the more reason why it’s all confusing.” Anjola didn’t want to think about the looming consequences of admitting her feelings to Lekan yet. It was too torturous, to fathom just how much nuclear power it carried. Just how much it changed everything. “I’m sure your head is about to burst. Just don’t get any ideas. It doesn’t necessarily change anything between us.”

“Ah, well.” Even Lekan, god of mischief couldn’t hide his embarrassment. “If it’s any consolation, I’m very, very, equally attracted to you Anjola and I mean it.”

“Of course, you do. I’m a woman who is pleasing to the eye.” She shrugged. “Isn’t that like, your own criteria? Aren’t you attracted to every single pretty face?”

“If she’s flat, nope. I don’t care how pretty she is.” He interjected, with a snarl.

“If she’s flat? That’s a degrading word to call another human, Lekan. Objectifying women is offensive. Don’t refer to her like she’s a laptop screen.”

“Hey, all I did was share my opinion. It’s not like I said it to her face or something.” He defended himself, and she couldn’t help but shake her head and wonder how she found such, crudeness attractive. Something was wrong with her. “Saying it to their face is what is offensive, and I’m not. I’m talking to a physically endowed person who is very, very un-guilty about it—”

“You’re a pig, Lekan—”

“And you love me. You admitted it.”

“No, I said I have feelings for you, brother. It’s a long ass way to go from there to love and I’m not sure, I want to go on that journey with you.”

“Oh, but you’d be missing out on an awful lot.” He chuckled in a devilish tone, that incited cold chills to streak down her spine. “As long as I’d love to stay longer, and advertise my market and why you should indeed, patronize me—I have to go. My meeting with dad, is in two hours. I have to get there early, like it’s a job interview or everything could go wrong again. Talk to you, later. I love you.”

“Ew, get out of my phone.” Anjola grunted, before hanging up amidst Lekan’s raucous laughter. She sighed and slid her phone, on the stool behind her head on the arm rest and closed her eyes. She planned to observe her siesta, before coming to grips with the fact that her relationship with Lekan had veered abruptly into a new lane.

***

Darasimi was the fire extinguisher of the tension, burning atmosphere.

As Lekan sat across Kunle and Darasimi in the common room, with two adjoined stools demarcating them—holding a plethora of confectioneries and mugs of tea, he feared the house would have been gorged down in unease, if not for the presence of his mom. At strategic intervals in him and Kunle’s crucial conversation, she’d chip in with light hearted remarks that helped in trumping the escalating hostility. But now, the final moment had struck and it was almost inappropriate for her to interrupt. He could only help but hope for his sake, that things pan out well eventually.

“By agreeing to be the heir of Keye Conglomerate,” Kunle was dressed in his usual indoors attire, of a flowing grey Kaftan, while Darasimi had an Ankara shift gown on. He didn’t know why the man had to draw up a contractual statement, he had to agree to and sign before the whole ordeal was finalized.

Fine, he wasn’t the most devout of sons but that didn’t make him a backstabbing, hateful person. He had no order side to choose. “You agree to adhere to the rules that bind every worker of the establishment. Show up early to work, dress appropriately, exhibit proper behavior and mannerisms, respect the hierarchy of power and do your utmost best to serve the company, in order to elevate its status and broaden its horizons.”

“Yes, I agree.” He nodded curtly again, with his hands clasped on his thighs. “It’s like I’m being initiated into a cult.”

Kunle didn’t justify his quirk with a reply, but only proceeded onto the final page of the laminated document. “During your grooming, you’d be drilled excessively by me and there is no stipulation whatsoever, to what kind of activities and working conditions you’d be placed under. You must without debate, do all what you’re needed to do. Suggestions and questions are welcome of course, but if they are baseless they would be discarded. You also need to convince the board in some way, that you’re the man for the job.”

Kunle shoved the document aside to the nearest stool, and sat up—peering intently at Lekan, through his polarized, oval lens shaped glasses. Lekan’s throat bobbed in anticipation of what was next. “Lekan, I have to say I’m impressed with the way you’re handling this. You caved in quite early, and you’re actually not running rampant about the place and being snarky. But then again, it’s your glimpse of a harsh life that brought you scurrying back here, not necessarily your passion for work or business or anything, but then I guess that’s enough drive for you since you want a secure, comfortable life and pretty much don’t have interests asides women and partying.”

He remained mute.

“I guess that’s all,” Kunle removed his glasses, and placed it into the pouch before setting it on the stool also. “Resume work on Monday, and we’d begin from there. You’re free to leave.”

“Don’t leave, yet.” Darasimi gave her husband a look of reprimand, before turning on him with a smile. “Have you been in contact with your sister? When was the last time, you spoke with her?”

Lekan grimaced, and swallowed hard. He hadn’t anticipated an interrogation in anyway, especially how pleasant Darasimi had been all day, in keeping the tension from capsizing. Now, she was the stimulator and he had no defense, whatsoever to her attack.

“Um, not really. You know, they’re on a honeymoon. I don’t want to bother them, ‘cause they’re probably having the time of their life.”

“Yes, because you’re an extremely considerate person.” Kunle sneered, from where he sat and tended to his nails. He was using a manicure set to swab the insides of his fingernails, clean. Why the man didn’t simply just cut the nails, was beyond him. It wasn’t like he was some young, radical man who took pride, in long, sleek fingernails. “And it’s now, they have a lot of free time you can’t call them. Is it when they’re back in the city, and deep into their work, that you’d call them? Sometimes, I just really wonder about you Lekan. Sometimes, I wonder if you care for anything that’s not yourself.”

Darasimi flashed her husband another look of caution, before addressing him again. “Oya, pick up your phone and call your sister, right now. I know, if we let you leave this place in the hopes that you’d call her when you’re chanced, you simply wouldn’t.”

He didn’t bother protesting, because he knew the war was long lost. Retrieving his phone from his pocket, he dialed Tiolu’s number and waited.

“Lekan?” Tiolu sounded perplexed, as he did—some hours ago, when Anjola pulled a surprise call on him. “This one that you called me, I’m sure you’re at dad and mom’s, or they’re over, whichever and they’re forcing you to call. Don’t worry, you don’t have to stress yourself. Just keep on talking at intervals, as If I’m actually here. I’d give mom a call later to confirm we had an actual conversation. I’ d be dropping the phone now.”

“C’mon, don’t be dramatic—”

“Dramatic, really?” He thought she was being quirky, but it was then he sensed the hurt in her voice. “Fine, I get that you’re a jerk and an acclaimed one at that but I’m on my honeymoon, okay? It’s supposed to be one of the best moments of my life, and I’m your twin sister. The least you could do is act like you care. So yeah, I’m dropping the phone because I don’t want to talk to you. Bye bye. Like I said, keep on talking to the phone as if I’m still here. You can hang up in the next ten minutes. It’d fool dad and mom, perfectly.”

“Tiolu, come on.” He sighed, glancing in the direction of his parents and grateful that they seemed to be floating about, in a bubble of their own, oblivious to the conversation he was having with Tiolu. “Fine, I’m sorry. I’d try check up next time—”

“I don’t know if you assume, everyone is going to fail at their first marriage and marry couple of times, that they’d have to go on another honeymoon, so I really don’t know what you mean by next time—”

“Tomorrow, as from tomorrow I’d make more efforts to contact you. I promise.” His gaze was still on his folks, still conversing with each other. Luckily, he had gotten his apology in already by the time Darasimi finally looked his way. “Things have just been a bit tough for me, lately also but it’s nothing to worry about. It’s been taking care off.”

“I see,” Tiolu replied. He couldn’t help but wonder what she was doing at the moment. There was loud, audible background chatter in the background, which meant she was at public scenery. Perhaps a park, or a concert. “This is the point where I go on to ask what’s new with you, or how you and your girlfriend is fairing, but we both know that’s a dead end. But really Lekan, I know you don’t do all of those relationship shit and all, but do you really intend on living this kind of life forever? I mean, everyone has to settle down at some point. You should start getting comfortable with the idea, and try your hand out at a relationship at least.”

It was absurd, broaching such topic with Tiolu but then, anything heartfelt between them these days was mostly absurd. “To be honest, Tiolu. I’m actually considering going into a relationship with someone and giving it a trial. We’d see how it goes.”

“Really?” She was taken aback. “Good for you. Just stay away from all my friends, please and let it not be anyone of them that you’re considering for a girlfriend. I don’t need to return to Nigeria and start tending to the broken heart of my friend, immediately.”

“C’mon Tiolu, have some faith in me.” Lekan laughed. He knew Tiolu only implored him to consider a relationship out of impulse, and hadn’t put much weight into her advice. And he also knew, she would oppose with every being of her existence if she found out, it was Anjola he was considering pursuing a relationship with. It only connoted that fate was on his side, because his shot with Anjola had materialized when his sister was in another continent. He could only hope fate also had an happy ending for him and Anjola, and didn’t result in something disastrous. “I am actually planning on changing, and leaving my ruthless ways behind.”

“Na so dem dey change,” She scoffed. “Just stay away from my friends and anyone else I care about, thank you.”

“Alright, but when they start to get jealous of my lucky woman, I hope you bring up the fact that you were the one who soiled their dreams. And it could have been me and them, but their friend is a bad belle.” He quipped. “So I trust you’re doing fine, and that Dayo is giving it to you, good.”

“Lekan!” Tiolu exclaimed, and he knew she was red with embarrassment at the moment. “That’s just…just stop, okay?”

“What?” He feigned innocence. “Dayo is all about that geek vibe, but I’m not naïve to think the lad doesn’t know how to get down and dirty. You’d be surprised at how skilled people like him could be. I hope you didn’t make the mistake of underrating him. You’ve probably paid the price, anyway.”

“Dad and mom have both, strolled out of the room, right?” Tiolu sighed, refusing to respond to his jab, directly.

“Neh, they’re still here and they’re smiling, because they know I speak nothing but the truth.” Kunle and Darasimi indeed had grins on their face, and the latter kept shaking her head while the former tried to scrub his face clean of the smile, to exude apathy. “Anyway, keep on having fun and make sure you have plenty of it. If possible, store it somewhere because when you return back to this shitty country, well I don’t need to tell you how it’s going to be. I have to go now, good night.”

“Goodnight, Lekan. Give the phone to mom, let me have a word with her and dad.” He did as he was told, and handed over the phone to his mom. Darasimi’s face brightened up instantly, as she barraged Tiolu with a stream of questions bordering on her welfare in the local dialect, Yoruba. Lekan fiddled with his fingers to while away time, and couldn’t help but feel comfortable still in the presence of his father. As if Kunle read his thoughts, he spoke up.

“You better get comfortable with being in the same room with me.” His voice was almost taunting. “You’re going to be getting a lot of that, in the coming days.”

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Enjoyed the little exposition on the tenets of attraction? I sure did.

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