You Dey Make Me Kolo (2)

Food for thought; you do the dishes

There is no doubt that the dynamics of relationships between the opposite sex have been changed forever by technology.

Whatever happened to times when you and a chick you liked exchanged love letters or notes? I remember my primary school sweetheart passing me crumpled notes at class. We would bribe her desk partner with ‘Gogo’ candy to help deliver them. Who can also remember the days of love letters where the girl sprayed the letter with her deodorant/perfume (until the letter looked like akara paper) drew a million cupid hearts at the bottom, before sending it off by post with a 50kobo stamp. Nah I am not that old.

The advantage of the old style was that you and the girl could assess your handwriting techniques, grammar and spelling because there was no spell check. I had a girl who actually found my rich cursive handwriting style attractive. Besides back then if you shelled too many times with your grammar, she could drop you like a bad habit. I doesn’t want you anymore….

Even the old landline telephones encourage active participation when toasting. You had to call the girl and risk meeting her whole extended family, or even risk going all the way to her house if you could not get through. You could not drop voice-messages so there was no escaping properly chatting a girl up. It has all changed now. You could meet a girl on Twitter, ask her out via Yahoo Messenger, have a dinner date via Skype, find her cheating via her Facebook status, and dump her via BB.

My favorite one is asking a girl out via text, or asking her anything for that matter. There was this guy who really fancied this girl in his office. He managed to get her number, and called her a couple of times to ask her out but she wasn’t interested in him at all.

On a Friday night out after work, the guy had plenty bottles of cheap Harp beer, got pissy drunk and courageous and decided to send a text to the lass, who was at home.

He used a code – I 1 2 4 Q

Her reply wasn’t coded at all: Get lost you bastard, and never ever in your sad stupid life  ever call or text me again.

Technology works a treat for rebukes.

Some Nigerian ladies get carried away with what they see in romantic comedy movies. A guy met a girl at a party and they really vibed. At the end of the party, he asked her “ I really enjoyed talking to you Tosan. How and when can I see you again?”

She replied shrugging her shoulders non-committally “If we are meant to see again, you would find me.”

The guys exclaimed ‘Sweetie, you live at Agbarra with your strict aunt, and I stay in Victoria Island.  I never go to that end of Lagos so you know our paths may never cross after this, so seriously, how I go take see you again.”

The girl gave up her number quick quick.

A girl once tried to be artsy like they do in the movies by writing her number on my palm. I quickly withdrew my hand in pain, after she had written about 3 digits. This babe wanted to kill me o – she had used an Eleganza biro, and you know they have a sharp felt tip. Whatever happened to using a soft eye pencil, or better yet just reciting the damn number so that I could store it on my phone?!

So what do you say to a girl who has features like the one in this article’s picture. How do you solve a problem like Maria? Or one like Ifeoma, Bukola or Hauwa? This all reminds me of the song from Sound of Music. Sing with me:

Many a thing you know you would like to tell her/

Many a thing she ought to understand/

But how do you make her stay/

And listen to what you stay/

How do you keep a wave upon the sand?/

How do you catch a cloud and pin it down?

How do you toast a girl without breaking bank or breaking your vocal cords?

A chap much older than me, when schooling me on the relationship and dating game when I was a teenager, advised me that if I wanted to toast a really hot girl but had no courage, I should just imagine that she was taking a shit. It would make her look very ordinary and approachable

Yeah, I can see that just working now. Thanks but no thanks, I am not imagining Munachi Abi, Genevieve or Agbani Darego taking a dump in some dingy pit latrine with flies about.  I tried to use the technique for Goldie and ChiDynma and almost passed out at the thought.

She gave a smile but I got no answer though/
It took a while before she gave me a chance, she’s acting cold/
I offered her a drink she turned me down flat/
She said if you want my name you gotta do better than that/

Cypress Hill (What’s Your Number, 2004)