I heard a story from my friend today, and babe, the thing enter me for body. I consider it very instructive. Let me give you the gist.
My friend is a chef – a very great one at that. Recently, he spent some months in Port Harcourt while studying to bag a degree in Catering and Hotel management. He was narrating his time there, the temptations he encountered, and how he fought them with me.
While he opined that South African ladies, somewhat, have more pronounced posterior symmetry than their African counterparts, he mentioned that those in Port Harcourt didn’t lag behind too. So like most young men, he was faced with this peculiar feminine temptation. But he chose to be responsible to himself, his faith, and the young lady to whom he had pledged his heart.
In all, there was one particular lady who took an interest in him. This lady was not only pronounced posteriorly, her anterior cambers were reputable. Of course, she had all the right to be interested in a young, handsome, and promising young man like my friend. But this one wanted something more than just the casual interest. She wanted something deep, something deep enough for his pants, but not his heart.
For a long time, my friend boasted of his strength against the temptation and carried his shoulders high, this reflecting in his previous conversations with me, until the day the strength of the mighty began to fail. He looked ahead and saw beyond the layers of fine clothing into the possibility of the beauty that lay quietly underneath. He swallowed at once.
He was between the Red Sea, far away from home, and he had one decision to make.
He knew fornication wasn’t a long process. It was just one comment, one action, at the right time, and in the right direction. He knew how to respond to the waiting, eager, desiring, and expectant ears of the lady which will then kickstart a series of conversations and actions, that will then, shortly, culminate into him ascending and descending her ventral concavity.
As he watched the lady run to him with arms wide apart, he battled with the possibilities of what such an impact could evoke. In that instant, he felt a sudden surge of strength and concluded the only way to escape this temptation was to gbé body and flee completely. This he did by avoiding that incoming biological weapon of, in this context, peculiar destruction. So he survived.
But that’s not the gist sef.
He was narrating the experience to his babe some days later, as their custom of friendship and accountability was, and her response is where it gets interesting.
The babe looked at him like a mother would her curious child, smiled, and said to him:
“Well… I saw it ahead by revelation and I prayed for you.”
I was like… Damn. Word of knowledge to Badt.
She had seen that a certain kind of temptation was coming her boyfriend’s way, and she had prayed for him. Prayed that his strength would not fail. Prayed that he will be true to his true identity. Prayed that the good in him will lead him.
She didn’t second guess. She didn’t feel insecure. She didn’t feel jealous.
She wasn’t bitter. She didn’t think she was doing too much.
She knew she was the help he needed at that time.
I hope we are given to these kinds of things.
I hope we are sensitive enough to perceive these things.
I hope we are intelligent enough to know what to do with such perceptions.
I hope we won’t be carried away by the men vs. women fight that pervades our social space.
I hope we won’t be concerned about proving a point when we see the other at a point of weakness.
I hope we are not the type focused on settling scores.
I hope, like a team, we can face life together.
I hope we can be the strength for each other at moments of frailty.
I hope that being rooted and grounded in love, our union is built on trust and faith in each other.
I am the ImisiOluwa; and I love you plenty.