A keeper: (n) someone who you’d likely spend the rest of your life with if you find him/her.
My dear sister, sorry to say this, but that man you are clutching on to like the latest LV purse, is not a keeper.
I know it hurts- these truths; tearing at your insides like a savage beast. Would you rather I keep quiet and watch you mourn inconsolably a few months down the line over unrequited love and self-worth smashed to tiny bits; bemoaning time that cannot be recovered, with tear marks like a child forced to swallow pap without sugar every morning? Would you rather I turn the other way and pretend I didn’t see that gaffe- the one you tried to hide just so we can all pretend that your man is a good one?
Ah! My darling, I have a big mouth. Have they not told you? I have a big mouth and strong opinions. You see, I used to be just like you, making excuses in the name of love; twiddling my thumb, biting my lower lip and blinking a hundred times at the sight of casual love mistaken for the real thing- you know the type that comes like a whiff of a fart, leaving a foul odour behind that kills your sense of humour and blurs your inner glow. I will not let you suffer this ignorance. Haba, what else am I here for? I will tell the truth and watch the devil run mad; lay down bare facts and watch demons flee.
Does he have healthy conversations with you? Heck do you have conversations at all?! Every day you meet after work at a bar on the Island- both of you, sharing a bottle of wine and a nice dinner. You think he meets up with you because he cares? No, he is only waiting for traffic to wane before he heads back to the mainland.
You sit for dinner; his hand should be holding yours, no? But where are those hands of his? On his damned blackberry- pinging away! He is smiling into a phone, chuckling and texting. Who is he texting? It doesn’t matter. It could be Bob Marley for all I care, it still wouldn’t make it cool. With all sense of love and reason, he should be fondling your breasts…ok maybe not your breasts, but your hands- on the table, drawing love marks. That’s what a keeper does.
Where is the gleam in his eyes, ehn? The last time you saw it was last week when he was on top of you, riding you like a horse to its death. You saw it only for a split second before he poured his waste right inside your body. And then his eyes wouldn’t even rest on you for another second. Did he not roll out of bed and into the shower? When he came out did he not frown at you- still lying in bed, feeling like Monalisa (the painting)?
“You want to lie down there forever?” he asked as he dressed up.
Did you not sense a hint of irritation? Hmmmm!
My dear, he is not a keeper.
When last did he send you a random note- left on the kitchen table, stuck to the fridge? Have you ever found a love letter under the pillow addressed to you? Has he made any sacrifices lately- like waking up on a Saturday morning, ditching everything else, to drive down to the airport to pick you up (when you can easily get a taxi), with a broad JayZ-after-Solange-attack smile on his face?
Did he notice you have lost some weight? Your tummy is lean and your arms are toned- has he said anything?
Has he ever said “I love you” whilst you complain about fresh wrinkles under your eyes or when you wake up in the morning looking like a horny witch, hair like cotton wool beaten by a tornado? Does he ask about your mother? Is he worried that you are yet to get a degree? Has he ever bought you a casual gift on a sunny afternoon with no celebration in view?
Has he cooked you breakfast yet, even as you entertain yourself with a Danielle Steel thriller?
Do you still have fun debates that are funny and random and everywhere?
Ok, this: do you suspect he is cheating on you with his colleague?
Should I go on?
What about that text you found lurking in his phone? The one he sent to a number saved as “plumber” (we both know that is no plumber! Else we might be worried about a whole new issue… won’t we?); you read the raunchy text with vivid and lewd description of what he plans to do with/to the plumber’s buttocks when they meet. You read the reply, didn’t you?
“Oh baby, I plan to suck your scrotum until they taste like berries in my mouth…”
That was the plumber’s reply. Is this life, ehn?!
What did he say when you confronted him with these vulgar texts? Do you remember? Did he not snatch his phone and then wriggle a finger at you, warning you not to go around looking for trouble where there’s none? Did he not lie through gnashing teeth that the text was mistakenly sent to him?
This man of yours, he has hit you once…or maybe twice, abi? Does he threaten you with a slap; is he punching walls, screaming invectives at you?
Is he always dressed like a model straight out of one of those fabulously retarded runway shows in Lagos, but never compliments your own sense of style?
It is hard, I know. But ask yourself- is this man a keeper?
If the answer is no, then it’s time you start thinking of another master plan.
Six months later, has he introduced you to his “serious friends” yet? You know, the ones he respects and honours.
Does he know your safe periods or just dumps sperm inside of you then leaves you to go figure your issues out by yourself? Has he ever massaged your back?
What about cunnilingus? You heard me! What. About. Cunnilingus?
Does he love to eat you up like a nice slice of cake or do you roll your eyes exasperatingly when he licks you like sour grapes, barely allowing his tongue to touch your labia? Or wait…does he even eat you up at all?!
Is he judgmental- telling you what to do with your friends, your hair, your job, your dreams?
Rate out of 10, does he make you smile right out of your heart?
Do answer sincerely and make the right decisions.
Good luck! (and yes, you can drop me a line in the comment section or an insult, even, if you are NOT a keeper!!!.)