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Nigeria's leading fictional story blog - Love, trust, emotions, emotional blindness, irrationality, love at first sight, unforgiveness, engagement ring, kiss, very romantic looking.


I will best be described as extremely reserved, and when it comes to matters of the heart (love); I can be annoyingly sluggish with showing what I feel. My best moments in my many relationships have all been in dreams with imaginary perfect men who never put a foot wrong. I was fearful, detailed and analytical to a fault. For the larger part of my life, the above weaknesses hindered me from opening my heart to accept love. On many occasions I turned men down only to get home and cry myself to sleep. I thought I had a pretty good idea about love and how it should work, but the problem with all I knew was that they had not been put to test in real life situations. I had a masterful knowledge of love but only in my imaginary escapades. However a time came when I got bored with denying myself of real love. I grew bitter with myself and craved to be in love with a man…a real man.

About that time my frustration peaked, I had returned to Nigeria from Canada where the company I worked for sent me for a course. When I got back to my office I met new faces, some of whom were guys. The new faces I met were part of a team hired by my company to handle Client Service and CRM (Customer Relationship Management). They were hired for us through a modeling agency. You can imagine what they looked like. The sight of the guys amongst them made my heart palpitate. Already I was desperately searching for a man. I could not wait to put my ideas to work, to love a real man and to be loved back. With these guys thrown in my path, I hardly concentrated at work.

Three weeks after I resumed work, I was asked by the head of HR (Human relationship) unit to supervise our new Client Service/CRM team. This meant I had to always be in touch with those ‘pretty’ guys. While my boss was speaking to me, my heart was racing and ideas were assailing my mind about how to nail one of them down for myself. I already had a target, Dayo. He had briefly modeled in London before things went awry for him and he came back to Nigeria to reinvent himself. He seemed to be above the other guys judging by how he did his work, carried himself and treated his colleagues. I was pretty sure I was not the only woman at work who dreamt of having him beside them in bed at night. But I was the only one in a position to get him with regard to the influence I would have over his career at work. I still do not recall much of what my boss said to me after she had broken the news that I should take charge of the Client Service/CRM team. My only question to her was, “Please madam, can I pick one of them to work as an assistant…sort of?” “Of course! You are free to manage the team the way you see fit so long as your method gives us great result,” she replied. I beamed with a smile because finally, I was going get me a man to love me.

The next day, I went to work – but not for my company. I had spent the previous night studying the file I was given on each member of the group I was to supervise. I wanted to know how to get Dayo, or some other guy and slay him with love. I just could not wait to hear a real man say to me, “I love you” and then carry me into his bedroom to treat me like I was the ‘queen of Sheba’. It was time to live all those dreams I had dreamt for many years. Having over shielded myself from men in the past and did not really know what loving one was like, I did not know what I was getting into, and struggled to manage the surge of emotions which went through me like currents. To be fair enough to myself, I was annoyingly naïve. At the conference room I and the team converged and I introduced myself to them. One after another they introduced themselves to me. I was both strict and gentle. I didn’t want to be seen as easy or harsh. I wanted every one of them to know that I would be friendly if they preferred it and that I would also be tough if that was how they liked to work. I announced to them that Dayo would be assisting me with the job of helping the team achieve its goals. After making the announcement I waited to read their faces and to give anyone who had other ideas the chance to air them. There was none, so I proceeded with the meeting; however I kept a close look on their faces to see if I could decipher what they were thinking. Frankly I was scared. I had not wooed a man before and doing it tactfully in public scared the living day out of me. Nonetheless, I kept my cool, bellying the storm of fear which raged on the inside of me.

After the meeting I went into my office and took a deep sigh of relief, I had given everyone a valid reason to be seen often with Dayo. So it won’t get tongues wagging if we were often seen together. Other ladies who were head-over-heels about Dayo won’t see me coming until he was gone. I set up my work in such a way that Dayo was in touch with me, and not me with him. In-between our work, I gave him the impression that I was available and that he could make the move. On the other hand I also reminded him that I was his boss. I had to be patient, but Dayo’s slow pace of making a move on me was frustrating. It got to a time I almost switched him with Samson, another handsome and intelligent guy in the group. I felt Samson understood me better and picked my cues as a lonely lady like a sniff dog. One evening after work, I was feeling lonely at home when my phone rang and it was Samson. My thoughts were that he called because of work; however when I picked the call he boldly asked me if I cared to join him on an evening outing. To me, he was clearly asking me out. My legs shook and my hands vibrated. In fact, I almost collapsed into the sofa close by. When I tried to say a word I found my throat dry like Sahara desert. My long silence had completely betrayed the fact that I was overwhelmed by his request.

To regain my pride, I tried to intimidate him, “Samson, what do you think you are doing?! Are you asking me out?” My voice was not as harsh as it often sounded at work, and being a smart guy Samson saw through that. “I am not sure that is what I am doing right now, I am sorry if it came across to you that way. I felt you might be alone and wouldn’t mind to share a few bottles of drink with me at a bar.”  I had to put up another façade, “How in God’s world did you get the idea that I am alone?” “I know you are very reserved and did very little outside after the day’s work.” “Thanks for your request Samson, tonight is not the night I will drink with you. Ask me another day. I happen to be very busy right now.” I lied, I was actually sick at home with being alone. I was an expert at throwing men’s advances back at them. After all, that was what I had been doing since my preteen years. However this time I did not do it stupidly, I simply did it not to look cheap, because I figured Samson had been studying me for long and I was not sure what he might have found. The next day I carried on at work like nothing happened and Samson was his usual self, doing his work with a smile on his face and a song in his heart.

I studied him when I could and he perhaps did the same. By the time the day’s work was over, my fancy for Dayo had waned a bit; I was already fantasizing about Samson. I remember driving home from work and praying for him to call again with the same request. When I got home I got myself ready and waited for his call. It didn’t come. However another call came. Dayo was in my neighbourhood and had called to check on me. His call wasn’t the one I was expecting, so I brushed him off. But on a second thought I called him back and asked if he was leaving my neighbourhood immediately and he said no. He was actually waiting for his friend who was not at home. So I told him that I was coming out to bask in the evening breeze with him while he waited for his friend. He told me where he was and in a few minutes I arrived there in a taxi. I was spotting an adidas T-shirt and a pair of Loro Piana black trouser. I like flat slip-on footwears, so I wore one and had my handheld devices in a purse which I clutched unto. I spent about two hours with him that evening before his friend called to inform him that he was home. Those two hours were amazing for me. Dayo had knowledge about everything, and I happened to have a bent for intelligent guys. I almost asked him to take me home. Knowledge flowed from his mouth like water from a fountain. The sound of his voice was polished; it was like the sound of music. He clearly worked out a lot. As she spoke, his chest would pulsate and his biceps would firm up. I almost touched them.

When I got home I could not resist calling him to say I was home. You should have heard me, I sounded like I was already his girlfriend. At work the next day I had him pinned in my office really doing nothing. I wanted to know if he could not get it that I was offering myself to him. Sammy (Samson) came into my office severally and saw us. He probably wondered what Dayo was doing in my office that long. I did not care. Thank God I had not fallen for Samson; Dayo was my man and I was going to get him. As if he understood the reason I had him detained in my office all day, that evening he called to ask if I cared for a round of stimulating chat over a few bottles of drink at the bar of my choice. “Of course!” was my answer. Then I asked him to come pick me up at home. I liked to be spoilt with tender loving care. That was how all the men I dated in my dream treated me. When he came, I silently prayed for him to open his car door and hold it for me to go in. He did exactly that. ‘Oh God! I am already living my dreams,’ I thought.  To cut the long story short, from the events of that night, a relationship with Dayo blossomed. Two months later we were living partly in his apartment and mine. I washed his boxer shorts, cooked for him, we visited his parents together, his sisters often spent time in my house, and I would often ask him to bathe me during most nights he spent with me. I loved to be bathed by the man I love. If you asked the men I dated in my dreams, they would have told you it made me tick.

At some point I boasted to myself that my relationship with Dayo was better than the ones I had with those imaginary perfect men in my dreams. By the time our relationship was eight months old, it had already hit overdrive. I could not figure out what in the world we were waiting to get married. So one evening, while he was bathing me, I asked him what he was waiting to propose to me. In a very romantic way, he put his index finger on my lips, signaling I should shut up, stood up and left the bathroom. I had no clue what he was up to; I just sat in the bathtub and waited for him to return. When he returned, he grabbed and began to kiss me as though that was our first kiss. In my head I wondered what his game plan was until his tongue began to wander feverishly in my mouth and left a metallic object in it. I broke from the kiss and spewed the object into my palm only to see it was an engagement ring. Faster than light can travel, my eyes moistened at the surprise he pulled off on me.

I looked up and found him kneeling on one foot; the hallowed words from his lips took my breath away, “Baby, will you marry me?” Desperately, I gasped for breath, I had to blurt out my answer as if I waited a second longer he would take his request back, “Yes, I will!” I leapt from the tub and kissed him with tears flooding from my eyes. From that day our wedding plans began in earnest; I made sure all my friends and work colleagues got a good look at my engagement ring. I worked like an ant to make sure no detail was left out in my wedding plans. Dayo’s family could not wait to see us get married, especially his mother and sisters. Our wedding reception was grand and stylish; we had a very romantic looking table with white linen tablecloth covered with a pink overlay. I made sure our event planner tucked in a tiny, perfect rosebud into each guest’s pale pink napkin. A centerpiece included varieties of pink blooms, such as roses, orchids and tulips. We had masses of candles to warm everyone’s heart. We floated them in glass bowls in various heights on tables.  We had table cards printed with the “firsts” of our romance. The two of us wrote those together. We used them instead of standard table numbers — for example, one table was “First Kiss” table and another was “First Date” table and so on.

The above story was narrated by Angela Ighalo (actual name withheld) and was edited by editorial team.


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