CHRISTMAS DATING Episode 3 – Michael Ituma

CHRISTMAS DATING
Episode 3
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When I say that my Jojo was a sweet guy I’m not being hyperbolic. He was sweet inside out. The way he approached issues, the way he kept his cool when I made him angry, the way he corrected me when I was wrong. Sweet through and through. Even when we had sensual fun.

Sometimes I wished I met him a long time ago, before I met Jimmy — the first guy, before I met the argumentative Philip — the second, before Somto wooed me for three months only to have sex with me and dump me same night, before Kofi, the last guy ran away to his place in Ghana with the money I loaned him.

I broke up with Philip because of a misunderstanding that got physical. He was insecure about me, about my relationship with other people, especially male folks.

He always accused me of cheating on him. He would take my phone from me against my will and have me unlock it. He would go through my messages in my inbox and social media.

He as much as took my calls to be sure I was not seeing or talking to another man. It was tiring. It made me sick. I kept trying to fix his excesses just so I wouldn’t be the cause of misunderstanding in our relationship.

Everyday it was a different style of misunderstanding. One day he took my boss’ call on my phone and shunned him. My boss for goodness sake. And guess what? I was sacked. And he was happy about it. You see what I had to put up with? You see why Jojo was my favourite?

I gave up eventually. I was tired of being called cheap. I was tired of being a man’s punch bag. I was sick of his excessive demand for bodily connection. I wanted so much to let go of his hands. There was nothing like love still binding us together. I never even had the kind of chemistry with him, that I had with Jojo.

So I gave up.

“Phil?,” I said while he was whining and whining about my being unromantic and docile. “I’m tired. I want us to stop.” I was looking in his eyes.

“Stop what? I’m trying to correct you on. . .” he was saying when I cut him short.

“Phil? I’m tired and we need to stop. Whatever this thing between us is, it’s not working and it has to end.” I was bold and audacious.

He looked at me and laughed diabolically. I could see the manliness in his gesticulation when he said I was joking. I tried to let him know that I had broken up with him a long time ago and that I couldn’t continue to pretend any longer.

Things got really physical between us that evening, I felt my brain would pop out from my skull. He gave it to me really hot. He put me in my place. He made me sink into my own ocean of tears. I cried and cried that evening. I wished I never met him.

Guess what Phil did? He locked the door and went his way for one week. I was inside his house for one week. And when he returned he knew certainly that it was over between us. He didn’t utter a word. I said nothing. I walked out of his house, out of his life.

Now, with Jojo it was a different case. Dude never felt insecure. He was an absolute lover of peace and calm. I was so into loving him that I didn’t realize that we hadn’t known much about each other’s past relationships.

Sweet Jojo! The absolute best. His contact on my phone was saved as Sweet Jojo. Sometimes in my house, I would just sit back and watch him carry himself like a king when he walked to the fridge or to tune the TV.

After the incidence at his place with his asthmatic condition, I persuaded him into coming over to my place more often. He had no choice. I told him there won’t be any hair for him to cuddle if he didn’t come over to my place.

And it worked. I still wonder what was special about my hair. He told me he would rather skip eating Jellof rice for one full year than go one week without running his fingers over my hair, into my scalp. So he came over every weekend.

I was washing the dishes after making some Egusi soup for dinner when he walked in with my phone ringing in his hand.

“Sugar!” he called from the sitting room. “Your phone. It’s ringing. It’s your boyfriend, Michael,” he was laughing mockingly.

I looked at him strangely as if I had never seen him before and looked into my phone that was still ringing.

Michael. . .it was written boldly. It was the name of the caller. He was a colleague at my place of work. I picked the call and gave Jojo a sharp look as he tried to pilfer a piece of chicken from the tray on the desk. He quickly took it and ran back to the sitting room.

My mind was on Jojo the entire time while washing the dishes. On what he said about the caller. My boyfriend? Why did he say that so lazily, as if it meant nothing to him, as if it didn’t concern him? Was he not supposed to ask me whom Michael was? Just like Phillip always did?

“Sweet Jojo. . .” I whispered as I pranked him with a piece of my chicken. He almost took a bite and I quickly removed it from his face. He looked at me sharply and smiled.

“Why don’t you ever get offended when a man calls me? You don’t even bother to ask who the caller is. Don’t you feel like. . .” I paused when he gave me another sharp look.

“Sugar, I am blessed to have you.” He paused to take a sip of his juice, then pranked me with a piece of his own chicken. I giggled like a toothless infant.

“I can’t feel insecure about you because you’re a sweet soul. And no matter how much I try, I can’t have a sweet soul all to myself. . .” he said so lazily, if I hadn’t been acquainted with his manner of speech I would have thought he had something up in his throat.

“What do you mean you can’t have me all to yourself?” I snapped.

“Chill, momma. Chill! What I mean is, every sensible person who crosses path with you will want to have you as a friend. So why should I deny them the privilege?”

“Even if he is a guy?”

“I want you to feel loved by any person possible. They were there for you before I met you. So you have to be there for them, too. I shouldn’t be a reason not to.”

That night, Jojo took me far beyond the sky. A place where only him and I felt the warmth of each other. Somewhere close to the moon, very close I wished we didn’t return to my bed.

Then he kissed me into sleep and tucked me into the blanket. I dreamt about him, about his tall, dark manly figure, about the peace of mind he gave me, about a future with him as the mother of his children.

To be continued. . .

— Michael Ituma