Lovely how Adam enjoyed his stay in the garden of Eden with his lovable femme. Eve was from the rib of Adam. He woke up from his slumber to see his naked soulmate, presumably beautiful, by his side and fell in love — this was the birth of love at first sight or a love that grew out of awe at how a woman came from him. Her beauty charmed him to the point of harm; the forbidden fruit was not even a worthy opponent to stop the ever flowing love of these first creatures. So it is said and duly appreciated by many that once a lady charms you, you just may never feel whatever harm she might.impose on you; it is believed that love is a charm and that love is blind. I believed it all this while, but today I believe my doubts and call forth baby cupid to the battle ground to either break its arrow or pull my trigger in a no child’s angle.

For the record, a woman is a diamond diadem or an ornament before the eyes of a man. With the incriminating application of Mary Kay, a woman is now an ointment poured joylessly on the head of a man. Charming right? To find love is now the trending issue as what hits the ears of the street is one break up or a divorce. All these may not have been so much an issue if things remained as in the days of King Solomon — the era of a legion of women at his finger tip; then, love or lust were never classified. So long as you had a tingling sensation around your trumpet, you chase the signora. What if she chooses some other guy? Then you chase another without needing to weep over a broken heart — if the heart of a man ever witnessed a slice then. Did Jesus’ restriction of a man to a woman make things stringent and almost chimerical? You do not expect me to say anything distinct from my ritual HMMM and imbibe my friend’s whistling vocation.

What went wrong really? Our problem is not finding love but it is defining the term. Love is not sexual intercourse; it is still blind; it never had a qualification but can be more enjoyed when there is a bounty of naira notes; it is a stage-to-stage thing (from feeling, to like, to stronger emotions, then love). What differentiates love from lust is not difficult to scribble but almost impossible to identify realistically. What indeed separates these terms is a question — when you saw the damsel, what did you like about her? If it is love, you normally would labour to find an answer. Believe me, I have no intention of rolling out steps on how to be a better man or woman for your spouse. It is with concern and perturbed emotional tunings plus freshly made up give-ups that I vent.

Been crushing on this girl for years. Defining that mushy feeling that love bestows on a prey was not my problem. It at one point seemed like my flattery punchlines and her shy grin headed somewhere Romeo and Juliet albeit void of an alluring vox of I LOVE YOU from her end. Oh! Foolish me. If only I had kept all those recharge card bills. I was blind to have seen that she enjoyed being called the queen and implicitly loved my role as the clown. What happens when a lady loves your sense of humour and gets jealous if you are with another girl but kindly screams NO I DO NOT LOVE YOU down every membrane your ear claims to entail? Well nothing happens — you only had your heart experience a noiseless mob justice not divested the right to be heard; c’mon it is no big deal. Damn right she was a hot girl with hot pants in blue, yellow, and green; her personality her charm, you may hate how much she hurts you with killer replies or harmful NO’s but you keep coming back for more — sometimes the virtue of ndidi (patience) has no smiling face at the end of the hardwork as very few persons now bear the name.

Earlier, before the unlucky day I met the just SMH underscored lady, there was this girl my heart failed not to turn on its HOTSPOT for. She was this slim, tall, and beautiful well composed Yoruba girl with an accent that was hard not to appreciate. When nature compels a man to be brief in height, abilities can serve as auxiliary right? So the battle for who wins the heart of this belle was quite radical but just when it appeared I was set to say AT LAST, the futility of the whole cause was a memory best shelved in forgetthisshid.com. How nonplussed I was to witness a lady that threw emotional cues as thoughtful generosity or needful reciprocity to my sincere love-polished talks, become a member of cold blooded reptiles and a miraculous frozen food. So lesson learnt was not from books but one life taught me despite my unwillingness to learn from her school of muse. Crazy life! And to think that love only comes to those who have a perfect understanding of its scope. Whether we like it or yes, she cannot always love you despite your unfailing perseverance. If she would love you, she would (your consistency is good but where you begin to beg for her acquiescence, and you get HEY YOU TOO EMOTIONAL, fault is yours solely); if you try your best and she says bounce, you proceed to other matters. She does not love you like you do does not make her a bitch, if she gives you green light and leaves you to dry outside then she is a certified bitch with no regard for your state of mind.

Level headedness is key. If you must love or date, then you must pursue such venture with sufficient expectation and not one overboard. Love does not come once in a life time (spits). If her hobby is slapping you with ignored texts or chilly one line replies, then break the cupid arrow syndrome or put bullets in her back non-literally — it is not an advice, it is what a dumb guy knows. The whole love routine is complex Blood; if you shoot her out of your life for being an encumbrancer to other love episodes, then you are most probably on the safe track. If after you take her out with your rifle and never find love again, blame me not as I am just out here to purge someone. But then, you could try loving yourself with the NO HOMO promise (laughs).

                                   OKOCHA OBED.

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