P.S: Not Yours Truly

P.S: Not Yours Truly

I hate makeup. Never found it worth it. And no, it has nothing to do with the fact that thrice I submitted myself to be transformed into one of those doll-like somethings these magazines call models, came with very unkind results of me looking like an unpopular Halloween comic. Those models don’t even look that great.

Still, that was then. Now, I simply picture trading all the wind that would free of charge make love to my face, just to look a few rounds whatever. I mean, where is the wisdom therein? I liked the feeling that I could wipe my sweaty face whenever and however I deemed necessary, rather than poke/dab it like an epileptic. 

Today, however, wasn’t one such day. Today had no business with what I liked or found comfortable or however, I deceived myself in my own head. Today was more of the beauty is pain, love is sacrifice day.

“If you’d wear this makeup again, I’ll clear my schedule tomorrow to take you to dinner,” his message read.

April Fools in May? Not possible! I didn’t know what to say. Couldn’t afford to say the wrong thing now; I had worked so hard to get here. The clasping V-neck tops, the condom skirts and dresses, all the bone-crushing six or nothing inch heels, sending all my comfy work clothes to a charity home since the day after his arrival; this was the evidence of all that hard work, work I could never atone for if screwed up now.

I sent a smiley. 

“Deby. Debora! Wake up. I know you’re not asleep yet. I need your help!”

She grumbled and turned her back to me. If beating her was what it would take, then oh baby, challenge accepted! I was so up for it. I slapped her thigh. “Wake up, fish! I need you. It’s important.’’ 

She turned back to me, a mischievous smile dancing on her marshmallow face. “How is her royal majesty to be consulted?’’ she laughed at how ridiculous I knew my confused face looked.  “Olodo. What do you need?” she said, emptying an entire litre of emphatic stress on the ‘Need‘. 

I spun my eyeballs. “Kunle just asked me out. Just dinner before you start shou…’’ I clasped my ears. 

“Yassssssssssss” She jumped off the bed to twerk for five seconds. ” Amen to that!”

“So what was your reply? Scrap that. I know. But how did you say it?”

“It’s why I need your help. I haven’t said anything. I sent a smiley though.”

“You what!?”

“It was a smiling smiley! How should I tell him I’m…’’ 

She grabbed my phone from my quivering figure. 

“I would love that,” she wrote. 

His response was instant. “6 pm?”

“6 pm is perfect!” she typed back and handed me my phone.

“Errrm, this is the part I get a thank you.”

I mouthed a thank you followed by an air kiss and lay beside her on the bed, trying to contain my excitement.

Debora, my sister, born three years after me, the one who knew all things trendy – boys, bags, makeup, dresses, all that stuff. And I was just there. I could only talk about books; lots of them though.

So naturally, the task fell upon her to be my makeup artist for tomorrow, create a replica of what she’d done to my face with the Youcam app that made my boss, type a reply to the picture on my Facebook story, and it was no ordinary reply. He’d offered to take me out, in public. Where we would be seen together. People were going to see me with a guy. And probably some could get convinced I wasn’t gay at last. 

 He came in his red Mercedes Benz, walked to the other side, held open the door, for me. I smiled, trying not to smile too much. Remember, lipstick. 

“Now, fling your hair,’’ Deby whispered into the ears buds. “And not so much next time.’’

I knew I was never turning down a truth or dare invite again after the epilogue- a brief, entirely tasteless, and pretty pointless dinner; I mean who wraps herself up in a black thigh-length mosquito net-like dress for this kind of dinner?– was cut short and we made for the hotel room he’d dutifully booked for the night. When his lips found mine, it wasn’t half as awkward as my first kiss five years ago. The too much saliva still made me nauseous as hell but I had learnt not to dwell on it and simply swallow. In no time, however, I found myself feeling warmer in stranger places and wishing his hand clasped my butt tighter and his tongue dove deeper into my mouth.

What I thought had been going so well was soon heading denouement’s path when the tempo started dropping. We were still standing several inches from the bed and our hand movements yet to leave the safe zones. I retrieved the hand caressing the back of his neck and felt for his belt head, intentionally missing the way, to feel the bump at the head of his waist.

The surprise from the limpness and his “Sarah, what are you doing!” left me wholly confused. I was utterly sexy, thanks to all the efforts, we were in an expensive hotel room, been kissing for over five minutes, I mean, it shouldn’t take that long to for it to harden, and in-the-name-of-finally-having-him-inside-me, what did he mean by that outburst!?

As though reading my thoughts “I’m sorry Sarah, I’m very sorry. I thought I could. But my head is so messed up right now, I just can’t. It’s not as easy as I thought. I can’t do it. I don’t know how she did… I caaaann’t.’’ Then he broke into tears, leaving me consummately confused. “I have a girlfriend,’’ he continued. “she cheated on me with a colleague last month, and I thought I could do this to get even. But I can’t. I love her. I love her so so much.’’ He’d modulated to key G now.

I’d never seen a man cry like that. I didn’t know a man could cry like that. He looked so pathetic, so sheepish. And so wet were my shoulders now. I placed his head right back on my shoulders and began to caress his back. 

“It will be alright. You’ll be fine.’’ I kept saying to him, while I said to myself could this date get any worse? “Everything will be fine.’’ I continued to say.

I felt a nudge on my left hip. I wasn’t certain at first until it began to grow stronger. 

He lifted his face to mine. Nobody had ever looked at me that way, but I knew what it was – the horny look. As if remoted, my expression shifted to the face Deby made the very first time I spoke French to her – that, what has gotten into this one? face. Next thing, his hand found its way to the hook of my coco bra, and with one expert squeeze, it came apart. Only then did I realize myself.

The earbud had since disconnected, and it had been one long, uncomfortable day. I was too exhausted to keep up the ‘exciting Debora’ act.

I knew I had repossessed my being when I saw a hand go up to his face, smack, a biting sting in my palm.

“How dare you?’’ 

Really! How dare he? Even after all he just spat? I had swallowed the slight that I was what he’d found cheap, easy to have a quickie with on the first dinner. With the vexation, I pushed him off me, hard. I think it was the shock before the energy that sent him sprawled on the floor, then I walked.


Deby was in the sitting room watching whatever when I got in.

“What happened? Did you guys go wrestling instead?’’

I ignored her and slammed the door, praying she would forget she too had a key to the room which belonged to the two of us, and just let me be. 

The bastard didn’t even compliment my makeup. 

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