Aarrgh!!!! Everytime I’m with the love of my life or something, my girlfriend always shows up, ready to ruin the moment.
But wait! Did you think I didn’t have a girlfriend? I can’t remember never having one, since I had the first. Undull.
Are you also shocked I wasn’t mad at Mimi or Bimbo? Come on!! You should know better! we are guys, we pass babes.
“Hey babe, what’s up? Seeing your friend off?” JD asked.
I replied “No, it’s just hot inside for Karelle. So we are taking a walk”.
She said she would be inside, waiting for me. So she left me with Karelle.
Karelle just looked at me funny, while biting her nails. I didn’t know what to make out of her expression. But my senses told me not to continue that journey to the boys’ quarters. Karelle was obviously thinking same because she asked that we go back inside after some minutes. Jadesola (JD) just spoilt my little escapade one more time.
One more time, yes. That’s because it’s always happening. But she has never caught me pants down. It’s been so close but never in the act. And it’s not because I covered tracks well. “Na my mama prayer dey work”…Because I can’t leave JD oh! I don’t know why but I can’t. Not for all these Instagram babes. 1st class in engineering, daughter of a local government chairman, not skinny, not chubby, works with a generator company and earns pretty good money. We’ve been on this dating matter for about 4 years. And the most she allowed me is play with her boobs and she helps me out with her hands. Yes I said that. That’s the limit because my dear JD is a virgin. Virgin Mary. And I’m totally fine with it. But you need to understand that JD is my G. She’s my babe, my guy, my mini mother, and the one who can press my reset button.
You see, back in the university, I dabbled into a number of things. They included being the social prefect for my department’s association and also making clothes for students. The cloth making was quite profitable, at least for student, and also when Otunba decides to withhold my allowances. At a particular time, I got about the biggest job I ever had: to make 22 suits/blazers for some graduating students. This was a big deal for me, since it all came at once and they paid full amount.
I had to dash to Lagos (specifically Lagos Island) to meet another tailor as I assessed that mine would not be able to do a perfect job. Our previous specialty had shirts and trousers. Discussion with Dennis was smooth, price, style and fabric was decided upon and I gave him the contract. I won’t take you into too many nitty-gritty details but lorokan, Dennis and many other tailors, mechanics, or artisans in general, are what we call “Alakoba!!!” So I gave him a 70% upfront because I wanted to motivate him. A week to go, Dennis had only cut 10 blazers. I screamed, threatened and did all sorts, but he said he got it covered. I went back 2 days later, only to discover only 8 out of that 10 had been sewn, 6 had been cut down while 8 hadn’t started at all. He kept saying it would be done but I knew better than listen to him.
The real drama started when I asked for my money back, for the uncompleted ones. He said he had no money, except I decide to sell his machines. Man, I was furious. By the next day, only a total of 12 were ready, and then Dennis fell sick (well, according to his boy, he was sick at home, and that’s why he wasn’t picking my calls). It was Tuesday, and the final year dinner was on Saturday, and a whooping 10 suits were not available. I needed help from above and I called JD to explain my predicament. Her panic was even worse than mine. She advised that I quickly look for another tailor, and my response was ‘with which money’? But then, that’s the truth; I had to start the hunt. And I found one on that same Tuesday night but he was charging more than what Dennis would charge for a blazer since it’s ‘express’. JD offered to pay for whatever I was short of, as a loan. It had to be ready by Friday. I accepted, and work started. I called him every 3 hours, asking for progress report and he also said ‘it’s covered bro. They would be ready’.
But guess what? On Friday morning, it wasn’t. I almost fainted. I considered not going back to school. Those guys would have skinned me alive! The new guy said first thing Saturday morning. I wondered how I would be able to make it to school, which was 3 hours away and deliver, especially considering that I knew (but hoped) that Saturday morning wouldn’t work. At 7am on Saturday, my phone was buzzing non-stop from 22 student customers, who were getting scared about the outcome of their ‘best dressed’ outfit. But what could I do? I had to leave for school that morning with the 12. For once, I was glad it was a private university, and so no one could come and mob me. At about 3pm, I got to school and settled the 12 who weren’t impressed at all. And that’s the sad reality of the service industry. If the delivery/ logistics process isn’t smooth, the value of the product just seems to reduce.
The tailor called just as I was done settling these guys that that the clothes were ready and that he needs a method to deliver. I didn’t know if I should curse him out, or cry or go back to Lagos. But I serve a living God and he made a call come through. It was JD who asked on the update, and after explaining, offered to bring these clothes down with the then reigning Red cab. I couldn’t thank her enough. At 6pm, people were already tricking into the marquee for the event but the 10 men standing were red with anger. I kept begging that it would come. They knew better and took their minds off it. At 8pm, JD showed up. Oh!!! The relief was out of this world. I gave these guys their clothes, while she started her journey back to Lagos.
If I ever doubted my love for this babe, this singular occurrence cleared the doubt. As fate would have it, best dressed was among those guys, Male face of the year was part of them and also best clique had someone wearing my outfit. My thanks to God knew no bounds but my dabbling into cloth making knew a bound as that was the last time I dared to do such commercially. Till today, I’ve not paid JD though, but that’s because whenever I say ‘you are getting the money of that time’ she would say ‘no, you’ve paid in many other ways’. That’s one of the reasons I can’t leave JD. She’s what we call a ride or ride (I can’t say ride or die because no one is dying and we are Africans, we don’t play with such words).
Many days later, I was at immigration, at the airport, getting set to leave. Otunba didn’t come along but we had solo time so hours before I left. I’d miss this man so much: his drama, his sense of humor and his domineering demeanor. He really is my father!
“So this is your first time out of the country, asked the immigration officer. I just ignored him, as if Ghana isn’t “out of the country”. Then, his next demand was my invitation letter. Who needs an invitation letter to see his own dad? I tried to explain my dad was going to pick me up but he wasn’t having it. He said he would not allow me embarrass Nigeria in Netherlands, and get deported, so he would send me back here.
I almost peeped my pants (boxers I mean). How could this be happening to me?