Scribblings In Idleness: His Decision by Sanjo ‘Biodun Owojaiye
Females are funny creatures…forged by Mother Nature and fine-tuned by Father Nature. They say one thing and mean another and it is that which they do not say that really matter. If you ever want to go crazy, try to understand a woman. Be the nice guy and you will never win a fair lady’s hand. Nice guys always come last. Women are necessary evils, evils we can’t just live without. A successful love relationship with a woman is possible only if you are a failure. Women are for the good times, they flee when the rainy days descend. His childhood was filled with this and such other wonderfully odd ideas, which at that time were necessary to help guide him on the right path. Days have rolled into weeks, weeks have turned into months, and years have flown by.
Enter the present. Over the last couple of months, after giving it sufficient thought, He decided to take action to give his heart that which it craved for, something he had never done before. He wasn’t so much a believer in love, for to him, love was a sign of weakness, the entrance of love into anything, and place or event usually meant the exit of reason. His childhood lessons were ever fresh in his subconscious. Not that there haven’t been girls in his life, indeed there have been many, but those had been flings, pursued to just pass away some of his idle time. He was now ready to give love a shot.
As it is often said, the heart cannot love what the eyes do not appreciate. The subject of his affection and entreaties was a stunning beauty to behold, a lady worthy of the attention he showered on her. The icing on the cake for him was the fact that she was also very intelligent, a rare combination among ladies of this age. Conversing with her was just as pleasurable as looking at her. It wasn’t in any way an easy task but he had enjoyed every moment of the way. The hope that one day in the euphoria of her affection he would bask was a strong motivating factor for him. She provided a formidable challenge, always keeping him on his toes. Her resistance was strong and he had the unenviable task of proving he was in for the long stay. Every unreplied text and unpicked call seemed to make the prize too tall to reach but in effect it only served to increase his curiosity. He couldn’t have asked for more.
Things however haven’t turned out so well and here he was, lost in thought, wondering where it went all wrong, left with no choice but to decide whether to continue the chase or back off. Events were spiraling out of control; the whole affair was beginning to affect every part of his life. He was convinced the only reason he was yet to win her hand was because of the disastrous four letter word, love. He had truly loved her, and had sincerely played the nice guy. He had abandoned his game for love, and the old saying was fast becoming a reality. Why did he have to fall in love with a lady to whom he had to prove himself? Why neglect the advances of ladies who would readily his cross carry? Maybe as an ambitious man, God had designed that it was the difficult one he would choose to marry. Probably God wanted to see maybe for her affection he would truly tarry. But now, twenty straight weeks after, He was tired of it all.
The thrill of chasing her is a feeling that is second to none with all the conquests of the past banished to oblivion, none comparable. He would have gone to the ends of the world for her and it would not have mattered if she didn’t appreciate it. He would have challenged Napoleon to a sword fight and it wouldn’t have mattered if the war veteran beat him up, so long she enjoyed the spectacle. He is an aspiring man of respect and dignity, but he readily played the fool so long it made her smile. But there is a breaking point to everything, when derision and mockery from her end began to greet his efforts, and his ego was now being deliberately battered, and left to be trampled on by others. When the lady told him to his face, to his ears that his efforts reeked of desperation and has to think over being a friend, not even the answer to that which he sought, then he had to stop.
That he loves her does not change but of what use is love that is not mutual? After all, the only difference between love and madness is reciprocity; Love is but a short cut to insanity. At this moment, He plans to go back to his old self that has been lying dusty on the shelf. He is a shrewd and hard man, not some soft, love-stricken, affection craving guy. His routine of office and home with the occasional hang-out with the boys should be more than useful in getting over this. He would use this interlude to make peace with his Maker, seek atonement for his many sins, most importantly that of neglecting the God of his ancestors. He has two works in the trenches that require his attention, and even though he is to use a pseudonym, the works would still bring him acclaim. He loved his art and his art loved him in return, that to him is love. The affection towards her remains unchanged, but to put them on display is now forbidden. She is now a persona non grata in his life. No doubt a lot of fellows will willingly fill the vacuum he leaves but he isn’t a man without means himself and that ladies crave his hand is obvious too. While ignorant of what the future holds, He leaves the centre stage with all the confidence and goodwill he can muster, full of pride that he didn’t miss his bus, it was his bus that wouldn’t have him. The world is what it is and we are who we are. This is his decision.
What will be her Decision?