feel free to spill
Sure
Fooooooine young lass from one of our fellow African countries comes to undergrad in our city.
A "princess" in her village. By the way it's always funny how Africa is the only continent that produces princes and princesses who are broke! Naija ones especially! I studied with at least 6 "Princes" and "Princesses" - Two Yoruba ones, Two Central African Zone ones and Two from the Southern Nations. All on the ready to announce to anyone who cared to listen that they were royalty. All broke!
This one was from the Southern zone. We were moving in the same circles so we bumped into each other at one of the numerous African get-togethers. Our mutual affection for partying and GIN (I was a drinker back then) made us the best of PLATONIC friends to begin with. I liked the fact that she was always high energy, always positive. You know, the type of friends you could hang out with and have roaring times with always. Never a dull moment. Like I remember this house party we went to. Summertime manenos.
She came in dressed in jeans and a tee but wearing a blue bandanna - looking all dangerous and stuff
Didn't hurt that she came and hugged me tight. Her firm bazooms under that tee pressed hard against my chest. Her body warm. All smiles. Still just platonic friends though. I had a lot of respect for her and the way she carried herself for those first few months that I knew her. One day a bunch of us (six in Total ..3 being her relas) partied the whole night and ended up at their place some place deep in the ghetto. As I told you they are all broke.
We had a roaring time. Her and I stayed up longer than the rest playing card games and swilling GIN. The song above was blasting from her boombox as we did so. As alcohol always does - it makes nothing out of something and something out of nothing - we started lovey dovey vibes. Flirting. Talking about being an item even though nothing happened that night. I was actually thinking this thing could go the relationship way given how good I enjoyed her company. Then it happened.
A few days later I bumped into her at another house party. I was with my other buddies in one corner and she came, all smiles as always, and sat next to me. Asking me to reserve the seat for her. Kidogo kidogo she stands up and goes to talk to some other friends so I lost track of what she was doing. Then the BOMBSHELL came. I scan the impromptu dance floor in the packed room and what do I see? Her literally being POUNDED by some low life Naajerian on the dancefloor. He was holding her neck. Her eyes half closed, no doubt in ecstasy. Enjoying every second of the grinding. Then had the audacity to come sit next to me afterwards. Breathing heavy. Sweaty faced. Eyes glazed over. Clearly aroused from the pounding that had been delivered. Needless to say I lost ALL RESPECT FOR HER at that moment. And never looked at her the same way again. Whenever we would meet we were still friends but that image of her pounding endured in my mind and made me social distance from her way before Coronascam invented the term.
These gels, these gels, these gels I tells ya. Isapite.
This is another song (was her favourite joint around that time) that reminds me very much of the good times we enjoyed together -always platonic- before I lost all respect for her.
As I said..bad baad baaad memory it was
Ni hayo tu
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