It was a couple of weeks ago. I had a sultry day in office and so decided to take some time off at the beach – undecidedly; I worked out my way through to the ever popular-dirty-now renovated bar beach on Ahmadu Bello Way, Victoria Island. At the lovely and serene environment of bar beach, one place I love to go when I feel a notch for unique inspiration and creative ideas. As I fumbled through my bag, lifting the make-up purse over the wallet, I picked my note pad, which was wrapped in the long rope of my ID card. Settling down under one of the numerous tents that accommodated pleasure seekers and glancing through my list of probable write-up ideas I let my eyes lead me up to the shadow that has engulfed my presence. And there he stood, with glamour…. no, I cannot seem to find the right words now because his presence consumed every of my thoughts, my pen dropped and I felt my heart beat run a bit faster.
One word I can define him with ‘beauty’. Few I can qualify him with, “the handsomest young man I’ve ever seen.” Directly he stared down at me, his gaze hooked every bit of me. My senses rushed back to me and just one thought I heard; “write about this right now.” Immediately, not muttering a single word I picked up my pen, which was laying in between us like the audience. Flipping through my note pad to the next plain page, I scribbled down every thought, scene, idea and letter my pen could play with.
Lost in the world of muse and musings, misusing and misgivings his deep, rich grown voice spiked my veins back to reality “it seems I inspired your creativity.” He said. Right there and there I felt this was the right guy for me; well-groomed, crisp shirt, tailored fit trousers, patent shoes, handsome look and a rich deep manly voice to compliment it all. I sure had met a sent angel.
Of course, I’ve always been a sucker for a sexy brilliant and impossible man – just like every other lady right? But on second thought may be not. But it seemed this angel had more to him and his personality. I better get to the deal/research then. But then my mid flips to the other person, muse fit (so I call him) “or could he be gay?” right I thought, he looks too clean and creamy to be straight. Again the race will tell the winner. After I gathered momentum, I offered him a seat beside me and then I let the train move.
The discussion continues, my question, your question, laughs in between and all. As we chit chat several thoughts poured into my mind, most of which I ignored. Even if he were gay how would it really affect me; what is the likely harm I tend to get from the relationship. I summoned up and was ready to experience the thrill and frills the relationship carried. I’ve heard severally that gay men shared an amount of the soft and hard part of whoever they are and that they do not really value the ‘true reality’ of men. But no, all that still hasn’t put me off.
I did my research, found some facts for the intimate detail about ‘the’ character used in my coming novel, Melissa, who would know about this young man, or indeed his mysteriously cute acts or misacts? His friends will be useful of course. And if they had a passionate nature, natural intelligence and longed to know about the world, wouldn’t they easily read through him?
So it’s been weeks now and I’ve spent most of it asking his friends and requesting to meet up with his friends. Intrigued, I got myself invited to one of his friends’ for a get-together. I recognised some names and I matched them with gist I heard earlier. The party was fun, lots of interesting people to meet, lots of good drinks and definitely fantastic music, after a while though I noticed my ‘handsome beauty’ had disappeared so I looked around for him, no sign of him so taking my step lightly I walked around checking the house (big and beautiful I should say). Unfortunately I walked into an open room, with a glance I thought the room looked interesting. But my heartbeat increased speedily at the scene that lay before me. My super-handsome man right there on a sofa with another shabbily dressed but fine guy doing what I’ve not come to understand. I mean, what exactly I saw I’ve not come to define and understand. Cautiously I stepped out of the room, unknown to the busy lovers or whatever they were. Walking down the hall I smiled, but just then my peace returned, my mind presented me with a diary of thoughts as I returned to the party room. Somehow I felt ease, satisfied and achieved. At least I know who he is now and can give a definition to our friendship.
In the end, it isn’t my thoughts, neither his personality that undid me but his rigidly bare words. “I am made of fire and liberty, therefore live each moment as I please.” Sadly from hearing this from him, I discovered our affair/friendship/relation would end badly, with ugly feelings all around. My own feelings towards him began to cool the moment I heard those words. Full of remorse, I go back to my first love – my diary, I hope it’s forgiven me….
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