Dear Tweet Crush

Dear Mread,

During a meeting with my boss today, he caught me smiling for no apparent reason and gave me this really confused stare. But, that’s not even new. I catch myself smiling a lot these days, sometimes I even Laugh Out Loud and it’s always because I remember something you tweeted.

Your sense of humour is epic! You really have no idea how many screenshots of your tweets I have on my phone. With every one of your tweets, I’m amazed at how your brain functions. You have the most randomly intelligent thoughts and you dish out the words like a master. You make the possibility of me being sapiosexual a thought but I’m not even going to claim I am because these twitter people don’t know how to observe chill when someone uses that word. They just pounce on you.

Funny but none the things I even feel for you is sexual. And it’s not because I still don’t know what you look like because since I started following you in December you’ve had this picture of beautiful blue skies as your avatar. But I’m not complaining. I’m not any a hurry to see you. Mystery and suspense is intriguing and incredibly sexy.

Nevertheless, thanks to my graphic mind, I have a picture that fits this character that you are perfectly. In my head, you’re a tall, say 5 feet 11, dark-skinned geek with full eyebrows, big brown eyes that sparkle with enthusiasm, full luscious lips, a dimple on your left cheek and when you laugh, you laugh out really loud. But Mread, even if you look nothing like this, then the way you look must be the best a man can look. Gosh! You’re just so perfect in my eyes. And who knows, maybe seeing you might kill all this fire and I don’t want to risk that.

I’m at a loss for words to describe what you do to me that makes me yearn for more and more of your tweets. Mread, you close work at 4pm right? Cos your tweets pause at about that time and resume at about 6:30pm. I just rush all the way home within the time frame so I can catch your tweets stream live and feel your mood and coolness oozing through my phone screen. I noticed you complain about Ikorodu traffic many times, and each time I imagine I’m right beside you keeping you company so you don’t even have to tweet about the horror. Lest I forget, I open your TL on a separate tab on my office laptop so I can stay refreshing every 3 mins or so. LOL. I’m not even ashamed to say any of this. After all you don’t follow me back and I don’t bother tweeting at you. I continue to watch you silently, fantasizing and hoping you won’t notice me. I really am just content to love you from a distance.

I’ve never been one to read romance novels so I never had fantasies of a hunk that I want to fall in love with. In fact, maybe I had never really given the idea of my kind of man a thought. But you, my darling, have given form to my ideal man. You come across as a balanced man, able to hold your own on every subject. And when the most ridiculous questions are thrown at you, you answer with such grace. Could this be love? LOL These unidentifiable emotions. Saying I’m in awe of you probably sums it all up. Maybe that’s why I named you my DREAM and turned the letters around to MREAD to mask my obsession.

You’d never get to read this. Or maybe you would since I’m posting it on a friend’s blog soon. I hope that when you do read this, you feel butterflies in your tummy as a sign that all this is about you.

Truckload of hugs and kisses,
Keysha.

PS: I think your friends with protected tweets are really annoying cos they keep making my work of following your conversations impossible. Ugh!

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I think Tope (@TS_Tiana) got this tweet crush thing figured out right. I hope we have a guy respond to this soon LOL.

Master of the Game

Bolouere (@boluxxxx) is back with another of her Nollywood hit scripts for our reading pleasure and discussion. Enjoy

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I let out a sigh of relief when I heard my maid chatter gleefully after she let my best friend in, “Welcome aunty, my madam is seated at the balcony” I had been drinking and had various thoughts swirling around in my head. I watched her walk through my tastefully furnished, arabian-themed lounge to meet me in the balcony. She looked really lovely. “Deinma, you look really beautiful” I told her as she got on the balcony. Yeah I never had a problem telling her that even though I was much prettier. She ignored my compliment and her face gave away her alarm as she saw how washed up I looked and made to hug me tightly. “You aren’t ok darling. What’s the problem? Where’s your hubby? What’s going on?” I burst into tears and tried hard not to choke as I spoke. “That’s why I called you, Femi is cheating on me”. “Oh dear God”, she exclaimed as she took me back into her arms as I sobbed uncontrollably. Who better to call than a best friend in times like this? She was playing her role well, she always did.

Deinma Jaja. We had met while in university and clicked because we had similar interests and were also the coolest and arguably smartest in our class. We did a lot of things together even though we were competing most of the time. At a point, our rivalry put a strain on our relationship. People always tried to compare us and that never helped either. I was laid back, she was the bossy one. I was also the friendlier one and that usually gave me an edge whenever we were put put up against each other in the court of public opinion. I had just won the class award for “the most admired girl” in class over her for the third time running when we had a spat over a minor loan issue. “All this flattery is getting to your head abi”? She blurted out as we exchanged words. “Better don’t try acting like you are ‘ all that’ around me cos I will put you in check!”  “You are just being stupidly jealous as usual” I retorted as I stormed out angrily, going further not to speak to her for three weeks. We made up when she gave me a book which became my favourite: “48 Laws of Power by Robert Greene’. We hugged and continued being friends. Somehow we always found a way to always work out all our issues even if we were still constantly trying to outdo each other. I clearly valued our friendship and my coping mechanism was to always let her play boss in order to avoid spats.

Three years after graduating, we were both married, led beautiful lives and were still best friends. She had her fair share of life’s issues. She had not heard from her husband in 10 months at that moment. He had just got up, packed his bags for a business trip and had never returned. He hadn’t contacted her and she had no clue where he was or if he was dead or alive. I mean, she wasn’t having it easy and I was doing all I could as a friend to stay supportive of her as she hoped, prayed and expected him to return. At that time, she had been in distress and I had been the comforter.

I was jolted back from my wandering thoughts as her voice came through, asking me about my marriage breakdown. “Are you sure? When did you find out? How long has this been going on for? What are you going to do about it?” Wasn’t it weird how we had switched places? The advice she’d struggled to take from me then now flowed seamlessly from her lips. I answered all her questions. I told her I didn’t know what to do. I was travelling to the Bahamas for three weeks in two days, I hoped to clear my head out and make decisions after I returned. She stayed with me for a while, cheered me up and gave soothing advice. I managed to smile as she screamed “Be strong sexy mama” as she got into her car and drove off while I watched. What a good friend she was.

I still had these thoughts dancing around my head as I walked through my lounge to the bar and poured myself another glass of Scotch. I downed half of the glass then walked over to my bookshelf situated at the adjacent end of the room. I shifted a couple of books aside to reveal a mobile phone I almost never used. I didn’t have to wait for long before the light blinked as an indicator that a call was coming in. Were human beings so predictable? Even down to the exact timing of their actions? I smiled as I held the phone to my ear expectantly and listened as Deinma spoke “Hey Femi, she said she’s gonna be in the Bahamas for three weeks, we gonna have such a fantastic time”. I ended the call. I had heard enough.

I had bugged Deinma’s line and listened to her calls a month after I found out she had been sleeping with my husband. This was three months before her husband went incommunicado. Was I hurt? Initially, yes. Right now? Hell no! I grinned happily.  I had some packing to do. I was meeting a fine gentleman in the Bahamas. Pablo, Pablo Jaja. Yes, Deinma’s husband. I made him leave her for me after I found out she was sleeping with my husband. Did I mention I was prettier and brilliant? He clearly loved the combo as he had always been attracted to me. I giggled as I replaced the cellphone in the bookshelf. My eyes fell on a book I loved so much. “The 48 laws of power” given to me by my own Deinma. I smiled as I recited the first law; NEVER OUTSHINE THE MASTER. Yea he’s called the master for a reason, he’s got better GAME. If only she had read that book for herself. Little wonder I was always a step ahead of her.
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Do two wrongs make a right? If they went hand in hand, maybe?