"His Story"

A few months ago, I wrote my part of the story (I'm getting married next month *yay*) and so this is my fiance, Bill's, part of the story:

She walked in with the two Bolanles while I presented my case about Elion’s faithfulness during a GRIP meeting at Mr. Biggs, Somolu. Full curly weave-on, nerd glasses, black top and zebra stretch skirt, I have no idea why I remember all these details.

After the meeting we talked and all I picked up was that she just wanted to help the world become a better place; help the poor, precisely.

“So why don’t you just go ahead and start your foundation?” I asked her, when she told me she needed a job to be able to launch TLEF. I understood her plight and offered what little meaningful advice I could without being boring. We shook hands and I thought that would be the last time I saw her.

My fiancée had just returned from the US and I was looking at getting married pretty soon. However, business had been slow for the last six months – I hadn’t received any “paying” projects and this was putting a strain on my plans to “settle down”. Housing a woman demands certain necessities, ones that I couldn’t readily afford at the time and dude was just hanging in there. Now “Elion’s Faithfulness” in paragraph one receives light.

At about that time I was squatting offices with some friends, real friends that stick closer than brothers. Apparently one of them, Zee, had offered her a chair and a desk in the same office. Imagine my surprise when I arrived at “work” about a week later and found her typing away on her pink minuscule laptop that could pass for a phone.

The “hi(s)” were said and we had small chatter. Then Zee told me she was a writer and that he would love me to teach her how to write screenplays and copies professionally – a request I didn’t take seriously, but I obliged him. Same day, I started grilling her and in my opinion I was going easy on her but in her opinion, I was a German taskmaster.

About a month later, the drama in my relationship started and (cross my heart) it had nothing to do with… (Oh, I haven’t introduced the “her” I have been making references to. “Her” is Ibi.)… It had nothing to do with Ibi but everything to do with my scrawny pockets and accounts at the time. I wonder how my fiancée had managed me till that point in my life.

Ever since we started dating in our final year in school, my pocket had always been lean even though my heart was robust with (God-given) visions and a fiery attitude towards work – long sleepless nights on things that would not pay me alawee within the next one year. If I were (in my dreams) a con artist, I think I would enjoy long cons like Yellow Kid Weil.

I was never one to worry about money; I was fixated on posterity – still am. The thing about posterity is, it might not feed you early enough, but it will take your children around the world, and their children, and about six generations after you. Well, grand visions and no breakfast broke my fiancée’s patience – patience isn't used lightly here. It is gross wickedness for a man to drag a woman along this path with empty accounts. Any woman that stays through that period of brokenness without throwing tantrums deserves a crown.

I mourned my fiancée’s departure, shaved off the beards and everyone complained – well, I had to mark the season. All through this period, I passed on what little lessons on writing I could to Ibi without clouding her with my bough of sadness. Eventually my fiancée came up in our discussions and I told Ibi everything, why I did? No idea. You can safely assume that it was the “rebound effect” – dude doesn’t have energy to debate that with you.

After spending about seven weeks writing with Ibi, my head started spinning for her. Yeah, Yeah, rebound you say. It had nothing to do with how beautiful and meticulous and petite and precise she was. It had everything to do with her heart for people. I poured out my heart to her and she said the same thing you said – rebound. A week after I did due diligence to my heart’s longing, Ibi started dating someone else. Now, that’s a classic way to spit in a guy’s face. I think our story would make good viewing for Telemundo.

I remember telling Dee that it was her heart for people I loved most when he asked me why I liked her and his response was “Na heart you go hold when you marry?”

I lost again. Departure, rejection and… I returned to the only thing that wouldn’t depart or reject me – those haunting visions. I buried myself in restless toil, shut down emotions and drove my mind and body into realms I didn’t know existed. The philosophy that season was “Work till I drop”.

About the same time she got a new boyfriend, she also got a better paying job and left for Port Harcourt. Me, forget about me, I didn’t matter as long as her life was beautiful.

About thirteen weeks after she moved to Port Harcourt, I called her just to “check-up on her” and found out that her relationship didn’t last two months. For me, that was great news. I became her friend once again, called her every fortnight, and became a shoulder when she needed one. Despite being rejected once, I propositioned her again on March 22, 2014 and she agreed. Oh! The wonders!

And oh! January 2014, “paying projects” started rolling in again. I’m still fixated on posterity, but “Sustenance bar dey now.” And I’m not letting this woman out of my sight, she’s part of purpose for me, she has become part of those visions. She’s God-given. We have our moments, those tantrums moments, but we are good for each other.

And I’m blessed she’s the one I’m exchanging vows with, come May 23^rd. I’m blessed to be doing life with her.

P/S: This is just the prelude. Our tale will be written when we are thirty years down the line.