Ah…Hecareth. Nobody would understand what could bring a weakling like me together with a muscleman like he. Tall and short. Meaty and skinny. Popular and unpopular. Loved and Hated. We were the unlikely team, silently building ourselves up. HE was the one person who had nothing bad to say about Electromon. He taught me stuff. He taught me how to add a third layer to my closet (Tricol students, you’ll understand what I mean) without using a single nail.
He taught me how to use shading as method of interpreting still-life (Hey, Hecareth. Do you remember your shading of the African Dancer with Beads? You called it CHRII. I bet these people reading will never pronounce it right on the first try). He taught me a melody That’s the melodyplaying as soon as you opened this page (I added the synths and guitar). But he taught me everything I know about the Crip walk. And The Blood walk too (which very few people know about).
But you see, I was as unlucky as I was unpopular. I’d have to search through the whole pile before I found what I was looking for (you know what that feels like, right?) . And so my bad luck showed its ugly head. His parents having decided that their son had received enough African discipline, Hecareth went back to the states.
Horrible, isn’t it? I lost a brother, a friend and a coach. It’s difficult to see heterosexual guys form such a bond these days, but a man’s best friend is always a man. And if we fail to recognise that fact, we’ll play into the hands of girls who will end up in another man’s house (and that man will reap where he did not sow!). If your bff is a girl, well, you better marry her or some other dude will reap the dividends of your investments.
And Tolu…Tolu was still there. The occasional Jab at me, unprovoked. The more frequent chorus of laughter when someone dissed me. It hurt deeply, especially coming from someone who knew the way I felt about her.
Hecareth did not leave me bereft. Like a kung-fu master before his death, he gave me the last words of wisdom. He asked me:
“Peter. How do you start a conversation with a girl you don’t know?”
“I have no idea dude. I don’t talk to girls”
“Peter. You have to think on your feet. Forget all the cheesy lines you hear in the movies. They only work IN those movies.”
What on earth was he talking about? What’s wrong with the current pick-up lines?
“Okay, so I see a cute girl standing with her friends. DO I excuse her from the whole group or talk with her right there?” I asked
“Back when I was in the States, you don’t walk up to a group of girls alone. Those girls are paranoid about rapists man…you do that, they slash your throat with a blade” he said.
Oh God. My throat! A blade!
“You come with your friends, get them to push you like you’re reluctant. Then as you walk down, you add some bounce to your walk.”
“doesn’t that make me look like a weak weenie?”
“Girls are uncontrollably attracted to pain. They see pain, they go for it. They see dangerous guys, they fall for them. Somewhere in their pony-candy world, they think they can change anybody with enough love. The exception is more of the rule here”
Wow. Straight from the Guru’s mouth.
“So…I…look reluctant then suddenly confident along the way” I asked, unsure
“yes they love the attention. They want to know they’re attractive enough to make you act up for them” He said, very matter-of-factly
“okay. So I’ve got to them. What do I do next?”
“start a conversation” He replied.
“with girls I don’t know”. He might as well be suggesting I break into the Oval office
“yes of course”
“How on earth do I start? I’m not good with words at all”
“which is why you get constant A’s in English and Literature, Right?” .
“That’s different. That’s academic. And stories are easy to manufacture”
“Exactly my point. Use that imagination of yours. Spin a story on the spot”
“You mean lie, lie and lie some more?”
“she’ll kill you if she found out. Keep it simple. Your environment always provides something to talk about. For example, you walk into a crowded shop where they’re not attending to anyone. And you notice a girl you like. You can “casually” complain about it. You could even struggle for a space and help her out. Be smart. Be funny. Okay? Smart and funny.”
“Right. Smart and Funny. Smart and funny. Smart and funny. Smart and funny. Smart and funny” I chanted like a yogi trying to meditate.
“enough!” he commanded, snapping me out of my self-hypnosis.
“Now. You must repeat these things in your mind until you believe it.
“You must be bold, You have nothing to lose. you are a lion, you have nothing to fear. You are a tiger, you fight to the end. You are a serpent, you’re slippery and smooth!”
I was already charging myself up and getting into the spirit. Then he spoilt it.
“you’re hot, you’re sexy and hot!”
I could take all the lion and cougar psychobabble, but no way was I going to see myself as hot. Me, hot? Sexy? When everybody said my head was a complete polygon (tomachi said it could be plotted on paper with a construction set). Eseosa said my head was so flat, it could be used as a landing strip. Someone said I could balance a cup on my head…(well I can do THAT). So how could I be sexy and hot? Me, with a chest feebly competing with the brick walls of my class, sexy and hot? No Way!!!!!!
If I voiced out my opinions about the incident, I would have been declared an apostate by my master. So, I let it go.
Sure enough, I got my chance to try it out. One Saturday morning after we went jogging, we had hot chocolate and cabin biscuits for a light refreshment. As soon as I got my own steaming cup and mandatory two sticks of the dry cabin stuff, I took a walk towards the table closest to me. Sitting was out of the question for us that day cos the benches had been placed on the tables so that the hall could be swept.
Already seated at my intended destination was one fine girl like that in yellow house sportswear. Alone. Dami. Dami Omoshehin.
Are you thinking what I’m thinking? hehehehe
9 March 2011 at 21:20