You notice her in class. She’s beautiful, busty and brainy. Three Bs in one. You get to talk to her and you exchange numbers. You promise to call her as soon as you get home.

It’s late in the night and you call. You talk for a few minutes. She tells you her full name is Amarachukwu Nnamdi. Through the call, you get to know a few things about her asides her name. Like the fact that she is single.

You start having those long chats on WhatsApp. She starts telling you other things about herself. Her fears. Her pride. The type of guys she likes. The qualities she admires in a guy. Things that could turn her on. She was sending signals but your brain was undergoing critical surgical operation by your village people. You did not notice.

The crush you had on her since the first day you set her eyes on her is growing like the strands of hair on your head. You want to confess.. You want to tell her how much you love her. But there’s no courage. You think, She might not like me at all. She sees me as a brother. She might stop talking to me if I ask her out. And who then will she tell all her secrets?!

You decide to follow your instincts that is undergoing spiritual surgery. Instincts that will be telling you to put salt inside garri even when you have a full sachet of sugar. Instincts that will be telling you to take Vitamin C and Fanta. That same instinct is what you follow. Lemme just be her friend for now. I will confess later. Or who knows? She might be liking me sef.

It’s a Saturday morning and she calls you. You are surprised. She prefers WhatsApp. For her to call, it means…. Excitement throws you off balance and you cut the call. You hurriedly wash your mouth so the odor doesn’t ooze through the phone. Then you call her back.

She gives you what your instincts have worked tirelessly on. She tells you she has met this wonderful guy. She says she can’t believe she’s so in love with him. She met him in church last week Sunday. “I know it’s early but I’m so so in love with him..” she says. You can almost hear the sincerity in her voice. She continues, “He asked me out three days ago.. I’m..I think… I’m going to say yes. Are you there?”

You realize you have been silent for too long. Stonemasons are breaking your heart into quality chin-chin sizes. “Yes yes. I’m here..” you manage to say.

“Okay,” she says. “I’m happy Ken. I’m so so happy. I hope you are happy for me..”

“Ahan! Of course. I’m so happy. I feel like jumping right now sef,” you feign a laugh. You have finally ‘confessed.’

“That’s why I love you muah. Bye bye. I’ll call you. My baby is calling.” And she drops the call.

Your WhatsApp chats is now all about Baby. Baby is handsome. Baby is cute. Baby is so smart. Baby is loving. It bores you, annoys you. Mr. Instinct knocks on the door again and mumbles in your ear, “Ahan..why so much hate?” So you respect Mr. Instinct. You become a relationship counselor. You can’t settle fights between your brothers yet you want to teach her how to have a quarrel-free relationship.

But one night, sense is bestowed unto you. You get angry. You blast her and tell her about how much you loved her but she still went for another guy. How much you did for her but she still ‘brother -zoned’ you. But hollup hollup..instead of a simple apology, she burst at you and tells you how she had secretly crushed on you, waiting patiently for you to confess. But you were being the good man. She even adds, “Are you sure your penis is working?!” She leaves your messages hanging, like the way your penis hangs in the air after masturbating with her photo. You console yourself. There are many fishes in the river nah.

Luckily for a nigger, you meet another girl. But the costume, stage, cast of the last play are needed for a part two, the same drama will play out.

After almost seven girls, you slowly realize that your village people are playing tinko-tinko with your destiny.