BEST MAN DUTY #3

Thanks for reading, sharing and commenting so far. Please read previous episodes #1 on http://wp.me/p2tpoY-a1 and #2 on http://wp.me/p2tpoY-a4. Your comments urge us on, please endeavour to do so again today. Thanks and enjoy your weekend…xoxoxoxo

The sons of bottle just started their yeye after party when I walked into the hotel hall. There is no way I would not recognize the voice of a tipsy Femi, dude always believed he could replace the blood in his veins with alcohol but a few drops always got him on the wrong side. It was that shriek of his that welcomed me.
“All hail today’s best man. The idiot who Dorothy gave the gift of a very pretty girl yet could not convince her to attend this august night out with the clan”
The rest burst into fits of laughter. Farouk was the worst, with his wickedly irritating laughter. His was a different laugh for a different situation. The moment he laughed, I knew it was his most yab-laced one. I just did not look at any of them.
I had already played my role in making the couple miss their flight to Lagos from where they would connect a flight to their Zanzibar honeymoon. Sam looked at me with rage and fury combined when we got to the airport thirteen minutes late. He was going to rant, I knew that look. I waited for him to start as he always did whenever his short fuse got lost. My friend who is never guilty when things are not in his favour; my sure pal who always looks for who or what to blame when things do not go his way.
He looked me straight in the eye, looked to his wife and the frown on his face grew in proportion. How I measured that remains a mystery to me. He was livid with rage, and to make it more annoying, Dorothy was crying like a woman whose baby was snatched for rituals.
“I should just break your head for getting my marriage started on the craziest footing possible walahi. Which kind best man you be sef? Do you realize there are no flights to Zanzibar till Monday afternoon?”
I hated how I felt, derided the look on my face. Was it because of the Best Girl? Samo and Dor-Dor should have been on the way to their honeymoon but here I was, the best man and maybe the chief cause of their missed flight to Lagos to connect their Tanzania bound flight. I had to get a way out of the accusation, allegation and condemnation.
“See, see, stop that thing o. Nor be only me cause am. When I was signaling that you should get in the vehicle and let us move, no be say the dance dey sweet you for bodi ni?”. I faced his wife “Dor-Dor, when you dey wind your waist, you don forget say you go follow plane go Gidi? See you people should not blame a poor bachelor o”. I tried to be funny but they were clearly pissed.
“I’m sorry guys” – there was no response. “It’s a joint fault and you both know. You’re just putting it all on me because you know there is nothing I can do. I was trying to put things in place, the gifts were there and I needed to arrange how they would be well kept”.
I left them standing and entered the car, waiting for them to join me. While he was comforting her, I picked my phone and rang Femi.
“Idiot, please book the biggest suite for this fool and his wife. They missed their flight”
“Are you serious? Are you crazy? You got them to miss their flight?”
“Femi, you are a classic fool. How is it my fault? Na me say make dem dey dance when they shoulda moved? No be you suppose open your mouth like that o”
“Dot admit it, you cannot be exonerated. You were gawking after that girl when you should have taken them to the airport”
“You are a mad man. You should be given a duplex at Yaba Left walahi! Was it not you that shoulda driven them to the airport while I sorted out other things? Now its all my fault abi…”, I was losing my temper. Everyone was blaming me for what went wrong and it was not going down well with me.
“Its not all your fault Dot. Now drive”. Sam spoke from the back of the vehicle with a smile on his face, and his hand on my right shoulder. I did not even know when they entered the vehicle. I looked at him, kept my face straight and moved the vehicle. The couple tried to start a conversation with me while we were enroute the hotel but I did not just reply.
Back to the now, Sam and wife were in their suite and the drunkards had started a sort of after party to make the evening lively. I walked into the midst of my tipsy friends, neither smiling nor frowning. As I am not really a drink person, I went to the bar and took a five percent alcoholic can drink while the rest danced and partied away. I was pissed, actually much more pissed that I would be on a very normal day. They knew the best thing to do in that kind of situation was to leave me by myself and all of the clan did just that.
The pain in my neck, Femi that is, later walked up to me.
“Dude, you’re still mad at the whole clan, right?”, he said, trying to raise his voice over the music. I looked at him, looked away and sucked on the straw in my drink without saying a word. “I admit that we were wrong as well, all of us were as wrong as you were. Farouk knows you’re in that zone where no one can come to you, no one but me, me your nemesis”.
The idiot was starting to melt my heart, he knew how to humour me out of foul moods.
“For this reason therefore, I have provided one for you, the one who was staring at you all day long. She said the couple called her and the other babes on the train to join in their after party. See that useless Sam? Did he arrange any party? Newayz, your crush await”
I turned in the direction of his motioned body and caught the babe still looking intensely at me
“Na you go suffer for wetin all these people do me walahi”
“You people are crazy, and na you craze pass, shebi you know? You rile me finish come go arrange babe for me. I don dey talk am before, na you go keee me. Yaaa always using my weakness against me, you this yeye boy. How would I resist a babe like this ehn?”
I warmed up to him. He took my drink and my hand and I followed like a sheep being led to its death.
“Femi, where’s the Best Lady?” That was an innocent question from my heart of hearts. He handed me my can of drink, left my hand and looked me in the eye.
“She has gone, but the other babe you are gon’ spend the evening with is equally pretty. I noticed how she stared at you all through the wedding, and I know it won’t be a bad idea if you guys hang for the evening”. He took my hand and we got going again.

BEST MAN DUTY 2

THIS WEEK’S EPISODE  OF BEST MAN DUTY IS DEDICATED TO MY DEAR FRIEND AND BROTHER, SEYI OWOLABI. FROM THE DAYS AT OLIVET HEIGHTS WHEN WE WERE BARELY ABLE TO FEND FOR OURSELVES, TO OUR UNI DAYS AND NOW, ITS BEEN A GREAT ONE. HAVE A VERY WONDERFUL NEW YEAR, HAPPY BIRTHDAY HADJI FATHI, OWO BABA AISHA, IBERU OKO MARIAM, ADEWALE OMO ALHAJA…LMHO!!!

BEST MAN DUTY 1 IS ON http://wp.me/p2tpoY-a1

“Dude, this babe is fine. You remember when I tell you a babe fine like mammy water?”

“Which babe? Your frog eyes don begin roam around abi? Instead make you concentrate on the yeye best boy contract wey you collect from Samo. Meanwhile, your best girl no bad o”

“You and Sam are descendants of Galatians. Which babe you think say I dey talk about before? M-U-M-U. Just take your ashawo eyes off her”

“Sha face your best man duty. That fine chiquito must not pass you by o. E go pain you at the end of it all if that ever happens”

“The idiot dey gimme attitude jor. She just tie face like Otta winsh”

“You’re just dumb. You no get better babe for hand yet you dey form for babe wey fine pass all the rubbish ones you carry around. Ogbeni, clear jor”

That was me and Femi bantering the way we always did. The rubbish Femi is a pain in my neck, not just my behind. Despite his big mouth, we clicked the most in our big circle of seven friends. He was the one I run to anytime I needed anything to get done.

The few minutes of bantering were enough for me to get her attention again. Femi’s words got to me and I knew if I failed to come back to them with a ‘testimony’ after this event, the idiot was going to start my matter. You can imagine the gibberish semi and fully drunk young men would spew in their chemical filled states. At the same time, I was not ready to make a fool of myself in the name of trying to win a female’s attention.

I relaxed and waited for an opening to strike. My penchant for spotting grammatical blunders and bad pronunciation got the better of me as one of the Officiating Ministers took the microphone and started raining different gbagauns on us all. The guy looked too posh to be speaking such terrible grammar, his diction was not just it.

“Praaaaay the Lord”, he said. The congregants were maybe too excited to note that but my kind of person would never allow it slide. The naughty side of me took over.

“Haaajesuya”, I replied when others responded with “Halleluyah” of various tones and sizes. The Chief Bridesmaid looked at me, shook her head and looked away. That was the cue and I took it without delaying.

“Why are you shaking your head best girl?”

“You are why I am shaking my head best boy”

“What I do?”

“What’s with the kind of Halleluyah you shouted?”

She smiled after that, the kind that showed that she was amused by my first naughty act of the day. There was more to come if that would bring the pretty Cynthia out of her shell.

“That’s how they say it in my village nau”

“Your village? Where’s that village?”, she asked and turned to the back of the wedding programme. Her next comment gave me an insight to the reason for that action.

“Yoruba boy, No wonder. I can bet this man raining vocabs on our head is from that same village of yours”.

Cynthia was trying to take a dig at me, I was seeing an opportunity to engage her; and she was maybe making that happen rather easily after the initial forming. I would never allow pass, the chance to take on anyone who I see as ethnocentric, so I tore into her.

“Does bad vocab have anything to do with your tribe?”

“I wouldn’t know but I know Yorubas can speak bad English to raise a dead body. See Dotun, we’ll debate later. Remember our first assignment is to see this wedding to a good end”

That was a very nice way to tell me to ‘shut up and concentrate’.

“Sure, we’ll concentrate and get the couple welded. I’ll then address your ethnocentricity”

“See fine boy dey talk big English. Una try”.

I grinned and told her to look to her left where the official photographer of the event was waiting. She looked, he clicked, and deep down within me, I knew it was going to be a very fine picture.

The couple took their vows, and every other thing moved. During the sermon, I chipped in a few funny points to whatever the Pastor said to which she smiled, frowned, nodded or looked at me and shook her head.

When boredom was setting in, I brought out my blackberry and I opened my twitter timeline to check what was happening, then I heard her creamy velvety voice again, like the angels that always appear in Christian movies.

“Won’t you ever stop caressing the phone? You haven’t concentrated for a minute today”

I looked at her and made a face I was sure represented a mumuish one. That gave her the ginger to come all out at me yet again.

“You are either interjecting into what the Pastor is saying, pressing your phone or distracting me in another way”

“Wetin nah? Me and you get issue before? You already shut me up when you yabbed Yorubas and I wanted to respond ke”

“So you wanna keep doing that, you wanna keep disturbing ehn? I don meet person today”

She had by now stopped her Queen’s English and was trying to rip into me, I was loving the fact that she spoke, even if she was trying to chastise me. That did not look like it anyway.

“Are you my mama ni, abi why you wan shut me up? Best girl, just lemme alone. Allow make I freestyle”

She just laughed and pointed at me – “you ehn”. The red light of my blackberry blinked again.

“Ashewo oshi. You and best gehl don dey cozy up abi. Issokay”.

I looked up and the foolish Femi was still typing furiously. I just switched off the phone and stretched it put to Cynthia.

“Hey Mami, here’s the phone. Keep it till after the service if you don’t want me pressing it”.

She looked at me, shook her head and took it, smiling sheepishly. My game was tight already, I was crawling up and gaining her attention after the initial shakara. I decided to not be seen as a jester, so I concentrated as much as I could with my eyes darting to her and back, my mind conjuring scenes – lunch date, hangout, making out, standing and taking vows as a couple…

Service was over and it was time for reception. While we waited for the couple to dance into the hall, we interacted like we had known each other for ages. I was hypnotized as the words tumbled out of her mouth. Not one grammatical blunder and we moved in synergy from talking about weddings, dressing modes, tribe and even sport. She had something to say, and it was factual.

“This is one p I must set”

The event was drawing to a close. I was arranging for the couple to get on the way to the airport to get their honeymoon started but there was unfinished business with the ‘best girl’. For all the attention I got after the rough start, I could not bring myself to take her contacts. I was not particular about her telephone number, God punish telephone. I wanted her blackberry pin but there were distractions. By now there was another member of the bridal train with her, one I guessed was her friend. That one had been staring at me all through, I caught her more than twice but she did not stir anything in me.

Sam was calling me by now. I needed to still cozy up to ‘best girl’ but that her friend was eyeing me all sorts, someway in between creepy and disgusting. Creepy in a ‘I-don’t-mind-getting-down-with-you’ way and disgusting in a ‘if-not-me-its-no-one’ way. She was not willing to let me have the attention I earlier had and to make it worse, a rough looking guy had joined the duo. I just hissed and answered my ringing phone.

“What nah, I’ll join you in the vehicle now jor…Who says you don’t have a flight to catch, no be say I dey put things in place ni? Abeg shift jare”

I walked away half-pissed, the game was over.

“Chei! That’s how this babe just used me to pass time at the wedding. I don talk am, Sam na bad market for me”

I was ruminating and walking to the car. My facial expression betrayed my emotions. Remembering I have a Miss World contender as my real girlfriend somewhere close, I smiled like someone who won Baba Ijebu and joined the vehicle, enroute the couple’s hotel to pack and head for the airport.

BEST MAN DUTY

I don’t know why I’m starting this today but huge thanks to Ayobola Raji for forcing my hand. And the muse, the one I call best gehl for encouraging me to do a story about my Best Man duties. Finally for today, happy married life to my dear pal of many years, Tunji Jaiyeola. Your home is blessed mate.

Adjusting my gold coloured bow tie, I looked around the well-lit sitting area reserved for the couple and the train. The scenery already won me over: fresh rose flowers, a sweet creamy smell, the lighting was superb and the interior of the Church was what I call ‘splendide’. The walls, immaculately white coloured, matched with the POP ceiling. The whole scenery was Edenic, the exact one needed for a wedding.
I was looking round the auditorium, turning not only my neck, but the whole of my body. A light tap on my shoulder and I came right back to my senses, and to the task at hand, the best man job. I looked up to see my friend of twenty years staring right into my eyes, a little concerned.
“Babe hasn’t come. Service shouda started now”, the groom, my friend of more than two decades started. “She knows I hate this thing with her and disregard for time. I’m worried, this Pastor is a no-nonsense person…”
Dude was fuming, I was gawking – beautiful Church interior, gaily dressed guests, a few conquered sisters who we never thought would be at the wedding and all other ‘side attractions’.
“Dotun, I’m talking to you”, he said a bit more forcibly, stressing the ‘u’ in the ‘you’. I then turned fully to him. “Calm down oko iyawo. I’ll handle this”, I said without an idea of how to go about it.
“You well at all? What is it you are looking at sef. You just dey look around like person wey no enter better place before”
“Sharap dia ode. I’m looking to see friends and enemies and where they all are seated. There might be people to take care of and I don spot some already. The babes whose hearts and heads you played suwe with before deciding to settle for Dorothy”.
My friend’s eyes grew bigger at that instant and followed mine to the section where a bevy of beauties were seated. He looked a tad surprised to find the two people I was referring to in a tete-a-tete. I called him and told him to be rest assured no one was going to create a scene. I had successfully deflected the attack that was coming for my obvious indiscretion of gawking and looking around like a fish out of water.
I impulsively looked at my new wristwatch, one I launched on this beautiful September morning. The bride was exactly twenty three minutes late already. I brought out my secret phone, the one whose number no one knew and I dialed her. She answered on the third ring.
“Hello”
“Congrats Dor-dor. Your husband is about to lose his head in Church, he don dey para o”.
“Dotun? Whose number is this?”
I rolled my eyes at the silly question. Of what use is that to her?
Get your big behind here jor, olodo oshi
“Is that what is important to you? We’re waiting sweetheart. Get here fast you cute daughter of Mama Eve”
“We’re driving in already Dot. Just hang on, and tell my baby he’s safe”
She ended the call and I looked at the groom, who was eagerly waiting for my ‘verdict’. I smiled and he smiled too, like the mumu that he is.
“See ogbeni, I don tell you before say your mumu head just panics for no justifiable reason. Babe is around already”. I had hardly finished taking a dig at him when the speaker came to life with “To God Be The Glory”. My friend grinned, winked and smiled as we started proceedings.
Dorothy looking every bit like what a bride should was all smiles as her Dad led her to the front. Her gown was very lovely: a simple tube with a little jacket to cover her shoulders, the trend of excess make-up was one she bucked, very light one and my Dor-dor looked extra beautiful.
Sam already owns her, so I looked beyond her to the Chief Bridesmaid and I stopped breathing. The mumu Sam was smiling and grinning and did not even see me again. I did not care too, I had been eager to know how the “best girl”, as I called her, would look. I was not disappointed. It was to me a competition for the better look between her and the bride. She looked every inch the one who was breathtaking, the exact type that would always distract CR7 from taking a goal bound shot or drain Usain Bolt of all his energy, speed and stamina.
With Sam and Dorothy before the officiating minister, the Chief Bridesmaid, I mean the very beautiful and elegantly dressed ‘best girl’ took her position beside me. As a regular best man, I had met different babes partner me on the job. I knew some and met some at the wedding but this new one, looks as pretty as strange as she is, a strange kind of beauty. I looked at her and stretched out my well-manicured hands to say hello.
“Hello good morning. Honoured to meet you, name is Dotun”.
Keeping a straight face, stingy with a smile, but still the most beautiful Eve I have met in a while, she managed to respond with a nod. I looked from her to my outstretched hand, a message she got. She managed to take the handshake, with a grumble that I heard – “hello, I’m Cynthia”.
I withdrew my hand after the exchange of pleasantries. A bit of annoyance and irritation came over me for her attitude, and I just forgot about her good looks. Of what use is her good looks without a good attitude. Abeg park well jor. With that, I brought out my blackberry and sent a message to my partner in crime.

JANET’S RAMBLING THOUGHTS

HAPPY SUNDAY PEOPLE!!! I’VE GOT JANET WITH A PIECE THAT GOT ME THINKING. PLEASE READ AND ENJOY THIS, ASK YOURSELF A FEW QUESTIONS LIKE I HAVE DONE AS WELL. LET US PLEASE ENCOURAGE HER WITH OUR COMMENTS. THANKS…

Humans have perfected the act of not saying what they mean and not meaning what they say! Masking their true intention and clouding your judgement in a hazy smoke . The Yorubas will say ; hiding black spit inside and spitting out white spit.

In fact, it is extremely difficult to decipher the truth about what a person says, emotion displayed or body language message passed with accuracy with these multi layered “onionic” peels we cover we employ to mask our true intentions.

Sometimes it’s very hard to tell one’s intentions towards you. Someone can crawl into your life, slowly but systematically, taking over your heart .

They make you believe and before you know it, you get used to them. They make you believe that they are different from the rest you have ever had. You start finding ways of making things happen as hope has been activated in you. You totally get taken up by that person’s care and love. Love, care and attention can sway any man, that you know.

You start to lean on and plan your whole life into his or her schedule. Suddenly you find your life is slowly dependent on the person. You believe in everything they tell you (love sometimes makes one gullible).

You get down on your knees and thank God for sending you THE HERO. You then ignore other people that are into you, craving only the comfort your hero. You forge ahead, and are always there for him or her, giving your all.

You trust them but then one day they wake up and they start hurting you without thinking twice. They torture your feelings and break your heart into pieces without thinking of what you have gone through with them. The people we love the most hurt us the most!

Seriously sometimes I wish there was a way one could identify the REAL SERIOUS PERSON. A times I wish there is an “intentiometer” to gauge and measure intention of peoples heart. I wish that person could come with a LABEL on him or her declaring “I am fake”.

I wish there were fixed dates for one to know when one will be hurt, chucked and cheated on. Sadly however, there is no way to tell.

Seriously some people are just tourists in/to our LIVES and HEARTS. They are never destined to stay forever. They come with a packed mission and when it’s done then they show you their true colours or they open up the hurting truth.

Some people just enjoy hurting the other and I am constrained to ask why? I know that is a million dollar question anyway.

Why make someone love you when you won’t stay forever? Why make someone give you his or her heart when you are to break it? Why make someone care about you yet you well know you will disappoint him/her? Why use someone for your own benefit (anyway we are all intrinsically selfish)? Why making someone cry yet you won’t be there to wipe his or her tears? Why tell someone “I LOVE YOU” when you don’t mean it. Why raise their hopes when you are in love with someone else? Why do those dirty things behind someone you claim that you love and care about? Why not be contented with what you have? Why flirt with other people when you already have someone you love? Why waste someone’s time, energy and resources yet you plan to leave him or her? WHY WHY???

My friends be CAREFUL, be careful with your lives, be careful with your delicate bodies, be careful with your delicate hearts, be extra careful with people who tell you that they “love you”. Many don’t mean it, it’s just a common word to them. It’s just a word they tell to anyone they are interested in ; it’s just like a local song to many people. Stop wasting your TIME, ENERGY, FEELINGS & MONEY  on people who aren’t willing to waste theirs on you. When someone tells you that they love you take your time to think before telling them that you “love them too”. Stop allowing people to blind you with that word. Take your time to decide as you are testing one’s patience and seriousness. Never rush…

The writer is Obilade Oluwabukunmi Janet on Facebook