I am always late for appointments, and I never learnt to change this trend. It is not normal, despite this is Lagos. My case is so bad that I won’t be surprised if I arrive late for my own funeral. But I got to our rendezvous 5 minutes and a few seconds past the time. This is the earliest I have ever arrived for an appointment. I was surprised Fisayo was not there waiting. I expected her to be there already running out of patience and beginning to throw tantrums like media people are won’t to do. She lives closer to the meeting point at Debonair Pizza Hut, since she lives few plots away on the same Adeola Odeku street, VI, and I was coming in from Okokomaiko near Badagry.
I called to see how far she was from the rendezvous; and after the 5th ring of my 10th dial, she picked my call and her voice came shrilly over the phone “stop calling me, I am driving… more on”. Whatever “more on” means, I don’t know. It must have been French for “Darling” although. It wasn’t too clear, I’m sure she’d covered the mouthpiece when she said the last two word. I was going to ask her to repeat her words more slowly, but the network had become garbled. She dropped the call, cutting me off in mid-sentence. Then I remembered that it was a Traffic Law offence in Lagos to make or receive calls while driving. I forego (foregone, fore went, whatever) re-dialling her number to spare her being arrested by LASTMA officials. I wanted nothing in the world to inter with my date with the delectable Fisayo, the Sweetest Voice on Radio.
After about 40 minutes, my chewing Gum had lost every trace of it’s initial sweet taste and my jaws were aching; and I have finished two large bottles of Eva water, and my ass almost freezed out by the Air Conditioner, and my phone battery down to one bar, I called Fisayo again. She picked on the first ring and her voice came blasting at my tired ear drums in barrages of imprecations. The garbled network didn’t help my comprehension of why the sweetest voice on radio sounded loud and harsh. I pulled the phone away from my ears for a while, I put the phone back to my ear and the voice had become clearer. What I heard before the phone went dead was “…I told you to… stop calling… I… on my way… Idio…”
I hate being punctual at that moment. And after many frozen moments, she arrived and I got rewarded for my fortitude and long suffering: Fisayo hugged me so tight that her airbag-like breasts were pressed flat against my chest. Although, the kiss I expect to get on my pouted and ready lips landed on my cheek as a peck. As a christian, and a conservative one, I turned the other cheek and another peck landed on it. I wasn’t expecting too much, so I was content with what I got.
Most significantly, I learnt some very crucial life lessons that can save me time, money and my life in future. I learn’t both the art and science of Sign Language. Now Sign Language is not all about those moronic hand gestures one makes to communicate to deaf people (my apologies to People Living With Hearing Disabilities) not like making a cutting motion across your throat to signal a lady that you love her, or pointing your middle finger to heaven to mean “Fuck, Eww!”. There is a way the Spanish and Latinos do it when they mean “Puta” which rendered in English would mean “pussy cunt” or “ass whole”.
Now the Secret of the sign Language which I discovered today is this. You can know if your date is feeling you from how firm her handshake is, or how tight she hugs you. That’s one
Two: you can decipher from the way she cocks her head if she’s still listening to your “cock&bull, or bored to death already;
Three: you can tell if she’s married-and-searching or single-and-searching from the redness of her Lipstick and how she wears her ring and how much she flashes it in your face.
Fourth and finally, from the manner, and how often she cross and uncrosses her legs, you can tell if she is going to fuck you on the first date or not. No academy or Lifes Coach can ever teach you these useful life’s lesson. You learn on the date. If you are punctual to class.
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