THE EMOTIONAL SCAM: RICHMAB LOVE

By Abayomi Ahmed O.

So after searching for her on Facebook without any success for complete two years, my efforts yielded fruit, a sour one though. I searched with every variance of her name. Lolade Akande, Akande Lolade, Akande Ololade, Ololade Akande… I perused the picture of every result suggested by Zuckerberg’s software with utmost care. She was not found until, wait…you gastu be kidding me….what…huh….­OMG! At last! Yeaaaaah!

I found her at last, my long lost Angel. The one who has the key to my humble heart. The moon in my dark night, the apple of my eye,the only cockroach in my cupboard, the sugar in my tea, the everything in my everything you can imagine. I can remember with crystal clear vividness all the magical times we spent together. The way we talked, the way we smiled, it felt so cool to fall in love. I could not stop staring at her always. And she always smiled back too, to make matters worse. Without any hesitation, I would buy her  ‘Lolly’ made by Fan milk for her with my transport fare. Then we would trek home. Challenge was quiet far from Mobil where my school, Richmab International School is, but we didn’t mind trekking, anything for love Bro. Did I say ‘We’? Yes, ‘We’. Ayomide and I.

Ayomide Gold is my closest pal in Primary School then. I usually changed ‘closest’ pal everytime though, but he was incumbent then and the two things that united us was the fact that we lived in the same area and that ‘We’ both loved Lolade. Yes, we love each other because we both love one girl. Such rare relationship! Such innocence! Who does that? Can that ever happen among boys again? I’ll rather die or you die, the latter is preferable.

abayomi
So Ayomide and I would spend our fare to make ‘our’ girlfriend happy. ‘Our’ sounds awkward to me too, not only you. But then we were young and innocent boys, utterly naive. We bought things for her while we trekked home happily together, telling each other how much we loved her without any bad blood between us. We chatted about her freely without any hidden hatred or jealousy.

Lolade is the kind of girl every guy will desire. Slim and tall. Now, you wonder how I looked beside her. I was not really shorter than my mates then. I started getting short later in life. I mean, I didn’t just grow as tall as my peers. Then we were all ‘kinda’ short. Lolade is very brilliant too. She was a prefect, I wasn’t. She had pink lips, and I love pink lips (even till now). She looked fragile and graceful. There is no way you won’t notice her passing by, unless your testosterone has completely failed you. If you see her, you won’t blame the young me for having such unrepentant crush on her.

So as I scrolled through her pictures, to be sure the love in my heart is not affecting my brain and in turn affecting my eyes, my eyes became jelly with affection. She didn’t really change. The beauty was intact. Her red lips, slim figure, innocent eyes, everything was still present. Except that her bosom are now forming into what can attract a man and make his jaw dangle for seconds unconsciously. She was just perfect!

So with a romantic acuteness, I clicked on ‘Add Friend’ and waited for….months. Bet why? What has happened to my sweetheart. Why hasn’t she been online. Oh…I’m not happy. Actually she has been online frolicking around, but refused to accept my friend request. Seriously? I became tense. Has she forgotten my face, all the magical times, the exchange of smiles, the lolly, the trekking home. Oh sorry, I don’t think she actually knew we trekked home. Silly ungrateful girls! They never know the hardship we go through to make them happy.

Ok ok ok, don’t let me judge too fast. Maybe she just forgot, innocently. Probably, she has passed through a lot, since Primary Six till now, a year after Secondary School. Maybe I should reintroduce myself and remind her of her long-lost lover, one of her long-lost lover.  So I did. I spelt out my name as I was called then, “Abayomi Tosin”. Actually, no one knew me as Ahmed in Primary school. People started calling me Ahmed in Secondary School after my loving, disciplinarian father used permanent marker to ‘extremely’ legibly inscribe my name fully on my bed. I was a boarder. He wrote ‘Ahmed’ before ‘Tosin’ so the name stuck. I didn’t like that at first because the name still sounded strange. Why should people know my religion through my name? But later I got used to it and later embraced it, fell in love with it in fact. ‘Tosin’ sounded girlish anyway, I finally managed to convince myself.

After all the introduction and re-introduction and reminisce and ‘memories back then’, she simply replied and I quote verbatim,

“Sori i cant remembr u at al.i dint igñore ur request.jst dnt av time 4 dat nw.bt who r u?”

Such wickedness!

Wait, I can’t believe my eyes. Is this how people forget loved ones? Is this how love is? Is this how girls are? Or, am I now so ugly? But I have been ugly since then now, if not uglier, and she loved me.

Yeeh! I have been robbed! I have been conned! I have been emotionally scammed. I lost everything I worked and longed for in three, short, inconsistence-laden,­ abbreviated sentences?
Olorun ooo!

All the trekking, all the lolly, all the time, all the heavy investments…
Mumsy usually beat me to a pulp when I come late even after lying that I lost my transport fair.
“Shut up!”, she will yell, “Why won’t you lose it, when you are too playful”.
So all the lashing are in vain? I suffered for nothing. Not even a Facebook friend acceptance? This is the greatest scam of all times. A great emotional scam.

We will fight. Lolade and I will fight. I must employ that girl. I must employ her husband. Her father, her mother, her siblings. All her family. Everyone of them! I will show her you don’t treat loved ones like that. All my investments can’t go like that. I won’t accept the insult. One bitten twice shy. In fact thrice shy

I was actually playful, Mummy was right. I played with my investments. I played and I lost.
But I will fight, I promise.

I smiled, I didn’t cancel the request. She will accept it someday. Soon.

The above story ‘Emotional Scam : Richmab Love’ is another (second) excerpt from a book I’m writing titled ‘Memoirs from the Cliff’, an autobiography.

The story contains largely real accounts of experiences and real names of persons and places.

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