•Friday, May 19, 2006
the script is universal. stunning looks give way to a glance, a second look, a see me see you stare and then the magical testosterone rush takes charge under patient self-control for the cultured. the mind works it all out, and the forbidden fruit turns golden and appeasing. i threw my hat in the ring; my ploy did not backfire, it gave way to a twin win; the phone number and a coffee date.
"hey, hii ni ile club ya ajabu!"
all is bliss and headed for happily thereafter until the bombshell. 'i will start the process of applying for my national id next month'. "hei, humbe ni under eighteen", my mind retorts. gentlemanship calls for withdrawal, spirituality for killing the beast within and the game plan has to change drastically. big brother has to rule over the 'shaka zulu' downstairs. being a young guardian to such a one as the one seated across the table, sunday school lore yields a guilty conscience.
it is a big no! but she wont hear of such vibe, the jewel to her cannot just slip through her tender fingers that soon. she is already on the great bermuda triangle highway, having being led so delicately.
but principles have to win. so for now i relegate to the junior league, that of playing career guidance, the honourable guardian and such lame stuff. i am determined to lead her that way, not the fast lane to the cottage!
"kumbe ni under eighteen, ningejuaje?"
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