This morning I remembered that time I dated a yahoo boy whom I knew was a yahoo boy. Hell, I even lent him my laptop once for his runs.
I remember feigning ignorance and trying to convince myself that I believed he sold clothes for a living. But even I knew that that was BS considering that my friend who hooked us up had told me he was one of the most successful yahoo boys in Lead City University and he spoilt his ex girlfriend senseless. Somehow she believed that I could be the next girlfriend and also get spoilt, and give her her share of the cake.
I was a graduate, a practicing lawyer, he was in University, he was younger than me.
I didn't expect anything to come out of it so I assented to giving him my number, just to please her. But three hours into our chat and we fell in like. By the next night we were in intense like and for the rest of the week we were in a "where have you been all my life?" state of mind.
We would chat from morning to night and talk all night and soon, we needed to see each other. That first date was extremely juvenile. We met at O'Jez in the Surulere stadium. He showed up about two hours late with 5 friends all dressed like mini-Wizkids. I wanted to die.
I, on the other hand had my hair braided back, wore a cute little black dress and black pumps with minimal silver jewelry. Bobo wore baggy jeans that was belted beneath his butt while green boxers alone covered said butt, he wore a sleeveless vest baring skinny dangly arms covered in meaningless tattoos, he had big studs in both ears, his hair was relaxed and his long neck looked like it was about to snap into two pieces for it was burdened with many heavy-looking silver chains. Oh, he also had grills in his teeth too.
His friends were similarly dressed.
I looked like an Aunty that came to give errant school boys a lecture on the wages of sin and misconduct.
He had an uncanny resemblance with Wiz Khalifa in physique, tattoos, drug use (skunk/weed) and dressing. Wiz Khalifa also happened to he his role model and his best song was "So what we get drunk? So what we smoke weed? We're just having fun, we don't care who sees. So what we go out? That's how it's supposed to be. Living young and wild and free" and that was his personal motto.
Anyways... 5 minutes after they arrived I told him I needed to leave. He was upset but I was adamant. We both got up and as we walked to his car somehow our hands found each other and we locked fingers and walked quietly hand in hand. Despite everything, one thing was obvious, the feelings were real, they were intense and they were mutual.
We talked all the way to my place and on getting to my house, sat in his car and talked some more. Eventually the kisses came and it was like we couldn't stop. We were out of breath but we couldn't stop. We seemed to have fallen in something that looked like love!
Aye. Early next morning he called my phone and all he said was "Nwando I love you, I don't care what anybody says, I love you". He repeated this again and again and again. The butterflies in my belly fluttered their wings so hard that I nearly threw up from excitement.
Our affair had a fairytale like nature and just like my friend had promised, he begun to spoil me silly and just as I'd agreed; she got her own piece of the pie. It was big enough to go round.
At a point his laptop went bad and he had to use mine for business. I disapproved of what he did but I when I wasn't pretending to ignore the facts, I told myself "a man's got to do what a man's got to do".
Everything was great. Dating him was a trip! As a boyfriend he was ten over ten. 🔥. He. Was. Everything!
As a person however, I had to peel the scales off my eyes and be honest with myself. He was immature. Yes he was 2 years younger than me but he was an adult, yet he never could act like one! He dressed like a teenager. He not only joined bad gang, he was leader of the bad gang! He was high half the time. He swindled people for a living thereby causing some of them untold pain. And his only career plans for the future involved being the most famous yahoo boy from Lagos to Malaysia.
I couldn't deal. I mean, even as I was high off dopamine, I still couldn't.
So I left. (Not as easy as it sounds though).
But sometimes I look at the bigger picture and I've got to ask. If, for instance, we were married and/or we had a child together, would i still sit on my moral high horse and leave because he was a "yahoo boy"?
If I left a boyfriend because I didn't like that he "pressed computer" to make a living and take care of those around him, realistically speaking, would I leave a husband in politics who like almost every Nigerian politician, steals from the country?
Honestly, I think not.
In restrospect I'm not even sure if I walked because of the yahoo thingy or because my baby was a juvenile delinquent or because I kept having recurring nightmares of policemen storming our hotel room and being thrown into jail as an accomplice. LOL. The facts have become slightly blurred with time.
In any case, my conscience wouldn't let me be great and just enjoy the money. I couldn't stop thinking about which widowed old woman on the other side of the world was crying because the man who had promised her love and marriage had disappeared with all her money, and her hope...
So that's as far as it goes with this memoir. Do you have any thoughts, comments, observations or similar experience of your own? Please share.