How the Geek got her groove back

The small fast food outlet on the campus was crammed full with students that Saturday afternoon looking to grab a quick lunch. I walked up to the counter to place my order after which, tray in hand, I scanned the floor of the shop looking to find an empty seat. Viola! I’d found one. And that was when I noticed her; she was sitting in a corner by herself hunched over her blackberry. She was wearing a pink T-shirt, a pair of blue jeans and grey running shoes. Her face was devoid of make-up and her hair was arranged in a neat ponytail. I walked the entire length of the room and settled into the only empty seat. It was directly in front of her. She looked up and smiled at me, I smiled back. Geeky undergraduate was definitely not my type. I proceeded to do justice to my meal.
I noticed she was staring at me while I ate; it made me a tad uncomfortable. Then she asked, “Do you mind taking off your sunglasses so I can see your eyes?”
I looked up from my plate ready to tell her off in no uncertain terms. What was her business with my eyes? She was smiling. I smiled back and found myself taking off my pair of sunglasses placing it on the table beside me.
“My name is Itohan. I’m a Masters student”
I did a double take; did I hear her say Masters Student? With the way she was dressed? She wasn’t ugly, far from it. Her cherubic face was scrubbed clean and she had this quizzical half smile that seemed to play at the corners of her lips. She’d somehow managed to hide whatever feminine curves she was endowed with beneath those unflattering clothes.
“Banjo”, I replied
“Masters student too”, I added
Strangely, I found myself asking her if she cared for anything and she said she’d just had lunch herself.
I had one hour of break before another round of back to back lectures. I discovered she also had an hour of break even though we were running part time Masters Programs in different departments. By the time I was done with my meal, we were discussing like old friends. We talked about movies, books, music, and politics. I discovered we had similar interests too and all too soon our one hour break was up. As we walked out of the fast food outlet, I noticed her checking me out. I am a conscientious dresser and I’m definitely not bad looking either. I am 5’9” and dark in complexion. Though not exactly handsome, I was definitely eye catching. We exchanged numbers and went back to our separate classes.
I would love to tell you that I left her alone because I was way out of her league. Itohan was a twenty nine year old woman trapped in the body of a teenager. Without trying to be snobbish, I can comfortably say that I come from a privileged background, not to mention the fact that I worked in a multinational firm. I’d previously concluded a Master’s degree program at the Robert Gordon University, Aberdeen and enjoyed a whirlwind romance with the very delectable daughter of one of the Senators from the South-South. I meet sophisticated and classy woman every day, in fact it’s one of the hazards (in a good way) of my job. But I just couldn’t get Itohan out of my mind after that Saturday afternoon we spent together. Discounting her dress sense, she was a sweet, funny and smart young woman. I started to chase her, really chase her. Believe me when I tell you that when I want a woman, I pull out all the stops. No half measures.
I sent flowers; I took her out to dinner, sent her presents. I went the whole nine yards. She seemed to be taking my attention in her stride, though she complained a few times that I was spoiling her rotten. It didn’t matter as long as she was happy. The only problem was that I couldn’t take her out. I couldn’t show her off. I’d dated models, ex-beauty queens; nobody would understand my fascination with plain-looking Itohan. Looking back now, I guess I was too afraid of their censure, and felt too timid to convince my friends and family that beneath the geeky exterior, Itohan was all woman; pure and sensual.
Which reminds me of the first time we got intimate; I was at her tiny one bedroom apartment off campus that Sunday afternoon and she was making lunch. (did I mention that she’s a good cook?) I strode into her kitchenette determined to lend a helping hand but ended up kissing her. Somehow we found ourselves back in the living area/room, on the bed. Her citrus fragrance was heady, I felt a bit guilty like I was taking advantage of her but my body had simply betrayed my mind. The feel of her going down on me sent my guilt crashing like a pack of cards, my common sense careening out the door. Gosh!!!!!! This was some B.J.!!!!!! When I touched her down there she was soft and wet and welcoming. I sheathed myself in her warm folds and was rewarded with a satisfied purr. The release when it finally came was earth shattering.
Six months sped by with Itohan. She’d somehow come to terms with my inability to show her off. It even seemed she was content to have us meet mostly at her place and occasionally at mine. If she was sad about it, she never let it show. Since I spent so much time at her apartment, I ensured that the place though tiny, lacked no single comfort so we could enjoy our trysts. We spent many nights and many weekends after school, cooped up in that small space, with nothing but ourselves and our imagination.
Then it happened.
It was my mom’s 60th birthday party. My dad had retired as a director from the Ministry of International affairs and had gone into business after that. As expected all the big wigs in politics were in attendance. In the cheerfulness of the celebration, I saw my mom signaling for my attention, I moved close to her. She was standing with a young woman who by my estimates couldn’t be more than twenty five. I was thirty five at the time.
“Banjo, I want you to meet Senator Kolade’s daughter”, I heard my mom say
I mentally rolled my eyes in exasperation. I thought to myself, “not another senator’s daughter”
“Funke here just conclude her Masters in Canada, I hope you can make her welcome”, my mom continued, letting her statement cum question hang in the air. The tall beauty standing beside her smiled shyly at something. In her heels, she was as tall as I was.
“Sure thing mom”, I returned.
My mom gestured that I take her hand and winked conspiratorially. We’d acted this scene so many times, I’d practically lost count
As we walked away hand in hand I asked her, “So what brings you to Nigeria?”
“I’m here to stay”, she replied.
I would love to tell you that nothing happened between Funke and me. I would love to tell you that like with all the other senators daughters, we had a whirlwind romance and that was all. My mom seemed to have taken Funke under her wing and anointed her “The One”.
Itohan knew something was wrong when I stopped showing up frequently at her place. I told her I was under a lot of pressure at work, that we were working on a gas project that was taking my sleeping and waking moments. I knew she knew I was lying but she somehow accepted it and acquiesced to seeing me less and less often.
My mom kept nudging me to ask Funke to marry me. She was a bad choice for a wife either. She was intelligent and I found her attractive. And very much unlike the other daughters of senators I’d been with, she was pretty domesticated. She didn’t to hesitate to get her hands wet in the kitchen. Even the sex was good. Itohan remained my secret life.
Six months after I met Funke, I asked her to marry me. My mom went into over-drive planning the wedding. Her dreams were finally coming true.
I just had one small matter to contend with. To tell Itohan that I was getting married, well not against my wish but not exactly by my own making. For the first time I understood what it meant to be between a rock and a very hard place.
Exactly one year after meeting Funke at my mom’s birthday party, I walked down the aisle with Funke as man and wife. And as society weddings go, it was attended by the crème de la crème of society, from business moguls to top government functionaries to entertainment icons. Nosa, my best friend and roommate in graduate school at R.G.U had flown in from the U.K for my wedding. After the church service, family and friends flocked to congratulate us. That was when I sighted them. The man and woman were walking towards Funke and I, arm in arm, that quizzical half smile playing on the woman’s cheeks as she half turned to plant a kiss on the man’s cheek.
“Congrats mate” Nosa cheered
“Thanks man”, I replied without taking my eyes off the voluptuous beauty beside him. She was wearing a peach coloured number that hugged her curves in all the right places, leaving a man with ideas that his Sunday school teacher would definitely disapprove of. Her eyes were the softest colour of honey made so by her clever use of contact lenses. Funke noticed the more than cursory glance I directed at the lady and nudged me in the side with her elbow. I turned to look at her and smile.
“B.J. my man”, Nosa hailed again. I want you to meet my fianceé
I swallowed hard. He continued, “She was my kid sister’s classmate in primary school. She was the quintessential tomboy and a real pain in the neck too, especially when she insisted on tagging along with us older boys and I had to protect her from her silliness”, he jibed playfully, to which the lady rewarded him with an ineffectual swipe on the shoulder with a rolled up wedding program.
Nosa didn’t stop, “I was thrilled to find her on Facebook and all I can say is she’s the love of my life. I’m going to be in the country for a couple of months and I’m hoping that when you get back from your honeymoon, you guys can be guests of Itohan and me. She’s a really great cook.
Once again he congratulated me as he clapped me on the shoulder. He took her hand in his and they strode away. My eyes followed them as they left.

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8 thoughts on “How the Geek got her groove back

  1. Oh! How I’d like to make him squirm, the silly mama’s boy. But all is good that ends well, she got the love of her life, someone not afraid to show her off.
    Enjoyed the reading. Well done, Dawn. $ß.

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