“Trust me…..I didn’t mean to…..” sobbed Angela as she desperately tried to hold on to Matt’s hand. It had all gone in the wind. What had happened? Three years! Three years of solid building had vanished in an instant. Angela couldn’t hold back her tears as Matt sadly walked out without a word and closed the door behind him. She had suddenly lost it all. Everything she worked so hard to build had crumbled right in front of her and she couldn’t do anything about it. On the rummaged living room, a pair of shoes lay next to the seat.
Angela and Matt had met while in university. They were all from well-off families and met at a function where their parents were guests. From the outside, Angela was a reserved lady that liked the simple things in life despite her lavish lifestyle. Matt on the other hand, was wild and always looking for trouble. “Hi, are you taking Commerce at NSU? Because, damn that ass!” Remarked Matt as he picked a glass of whisky from the counter. Angela was taken aback. “Excuse me?” She retorted as she took a step back. “ Hi, I’m Matt but I can be yours. I’ve seen you at NSU before. Just thought I’d say hi to a familiar figure who’s not my dad.” Angela smiled back at him and replied, “I’m Angela but you can call me Ange. And yes I’m at NSU. Not taking Commerce though.”
The two seemed to have some chemistry. Matt always had something sly to say and Angela’s smile melted the hearts of the people she interacted with. Over time they became close. As they grew closer, Matt learned of Angela’s insecurities that arose from her mother’s relationship with her dad. He was abusive and constantly made her and her mother feel like lesser people. She had struggled to get over it but she was struggling with esteem issues. She constantly needed him to reassure her of her beauty and worth. Matt didn’t mind this given that had grown up without a dad and his mother had taught him the significance of appreciating people for who they were and treating them with respect.
A few months after knowing each other, they became intimate. They were inseparable. She was the six to his nine. They were taking different units so as they progressed in their respective courses, they spent more and more time away from each other. They, however, still found ways of staying in each others’ lives. In his final year of university, Matt’s mother was diagnosed with a chronic illness. It greatly affected him and he started becoming reclusive. The thought of living without his mother drove him crazy. Over time, it started to affect his relationship with Angela. At first, she tried her best to accommodate his mood swings but it took a toll on her as well. Things however, took a turn for the better when Matt’s mum improved and even resumed her business. He revived his relationship with Ange and they were once again the couple that everyone on campus envied.
Matt had fallen a year back in his studies which meant he had to graduate one year after Angela did. By the time he was finishing school, Angela was already working. Matt soon got a job and moved out of his mother’s house. Their relationship was steady and they moved in together. A couple of months after moving in together, Ange got a promotion which meant she had to take up more responsibilities. Matt supported her in every way he could. The dark cloud that was Matt’s mum’s condition rose its ugly head again and in a few weeks, she passed away. Matt couldn’t get over it and fell into depression. Everything seemed good on the outside but he was dead inside. He wasn’t the same person. He immersed himself in his work to fill the void left by the loss of his mum.
Angela was struggling between balancing her job and trying to get Matt to open up. He had, however, confided in his best friend about the impact the death of his mother had on his social life. Brian, Matt’s best friend was a close friend of the couple. He always tried to explain to Ange that all Matt needed was time to mourn and he would be back to his old self. In between trying to cheer up Matt and being the link between the couple, he developed an affection for Ange. It wasn’t weird that they would spend time together give that they had become friends and worked in the same field. They would meet up after work and link up with Matt. As time moved though, they would sometimes meet up without Matt. “Hey. Where are you? I thought we had movie night today?” Matt asked after Ange hadn’t shown up despite them agreeing on meeting. “Sorry, got caught up with work I forgot to tell you.” Matt had noticed that Ange was not as close to him but he assumed it was because of his depression.
Their sex life also wasn’t the same. Ange was barely ever in the mood and when she was Matt had a difficult time rising to the occasion. Matt got a big project that required him to travel. He was going to be away for one month. When on the trip, he tried as much as possible to keep in touch with Ange. He would call and text whenever he got the opportunity. At times, she would not answer his calls only to text back a while later stating that she was busy. One of the projects Matt is was working on got delayed and he had to go back home earlier than scheduled.
He called to inform Ange of the change in arrangements but she was not available. This didn’t bother him as he considered this an opportunity to surprise her and try to rekindle the burning love they once had. When he got to the country, he purchased some flowers and chocolate which he knew Ange liked. He took a cab home and to his surprise the door wasn’t locked. He thought she might have just got home so he removed his shoes and walked up the flight of stairs that led to their bedroom. He opened the door and was met with the rudest shock of his life. Brian’s sweaty body was cuddled up next to Ange’s in his bed. The two were asleep and didn’t notice Matt’s distraught figure standing over the bed. He walked over to his bedside drawer, took out a gun, dragged a seat next to Brian and gently tapped him on the shoulder.
“It’s…..it’s, it’s not what you thi……” stammered Brian as he tried to grab whatever he could find to cover himself. Ange could barely utter a single word. “I knew you had my back bro, but my wife’s as well?” Asked Matt as he brought the gun’s butt closer to Brian’s face. The two friends had seen each other in all scenarios, but this was the first time, one’s face presented death. “Can you make it out in seven seconds? Because that’s all you have before I end this fairy tale!” Said Matt as he calmly rose from his seat. Brian bolted from the bed but as he was trying to collect his clothes, he heard the gun cock. He scampered for safety rushing down the stairs. On his way out, fumbled over furniture.
Brian walked back up to his room. Ange was still cowered up in bed. Without a word, he pulled out a suit case, packed a few clothes, his gun and walked out. “Wait! Please, let’s talk about this! I’m sorry! Matt!” Shouted Ange as she pulled a gown from the floor and chased after Matt. She grabbed on to him but her pleas fell on deaf ears. He was broken and no amount of sorries would suffice. He gave her one last glance as she held on to his hand, shook his head, released himself and walked out. It was all gone.
When was the last time you attended a house party? Not a family gathering or a one month old kid’s birthday party. A proper house party with ratchets and a little bit of chaos. A house party isn’t a house party if someone doesn’t throw up, a fight breaks out or someone or some couple randomly starts crying. The crying bit I’m yet to understand. How is a party related to sorrow?
I haven’t been to a house party in years and I’ve started a petition to reintroduce house parties. You shall find the form attached on my next post. The few among us that have no diapers to buy, still want to get wasted and paint the town or rather house with semi-solid edibles. Just like the old days when Jesus turned water into wine because the party don’t stop till the sun come up.
I’ve mentioned a few parties I used to attend in uni and unfortunately this memory stems from the same basic friends that I had. They weren’t bad. They just didn’t know how to throw parties. I can’t recall one good house party they threw. Not a single one. The best one ended up in more than five guys looking at each other in the wee hours of the morning because a scorned girlfriend had taken all the girls with her; even the ones she met there.
So the party started like all other parties would start; with a text. “There’s a party. Bring the booze, we have the bitches.” I was young, hot, pretty skinny and looking to skin another human being. Such kind of texts got me over the roof and I spread the word to my trusted crew. I’ve never been a fashionista so dressing up was never part of the plan as long as I had fresh breath and a pack of condoms. I always though rough rider was legit until I met a girl whose ride didn’t last long enough and I had to be dropped along the way.
We met up and being the cool people we were, decided to buy a slightly respectable beverage. It was quite cheap but very few people knew of its existence and I had no money. After various lobbying conferences and secret caucuses, we bought another fairly priced bottle and set off to conquer the world with less than $10 between us. Nothing was impossible in the face of fairly shaven female crotches and a slight whiff of perspiration stemming from walking to the party.
The school was in a remote area but I had spent quite some time in the area and knew my way around. All the way to the venue we were just praying things wouldn’t follow the same path they usually did. Disaster. You remember that time traders were having a party at the temple and out of nowhere Jesus comes in, pissed as a bull in a Spanish street and whips people around? That’s how I usually reacted to these whack parties. Only difference is that I get invited. I had no whip but I’d make sure nobody enjoyed the evening. Even if it meant calling the cops on the parade.
So we got to the party, hungry and all. We were met by loud music, hanging bosoms and slightly ashy butt fissures. At his point, my face lit up. This is why they forgot to put an extra O on Monday. I was lit. I was walking up the stairs faster than you could say, “Donald Trump sounds more like Donald Tramp.” It actually does sound the same, doesn’t it? I was in the zone. My name was being called from every direction. I knew this was the party I would meet my next blog article.
I realized my name was being called from every direction because I was on the wrong floor, knocking on a random family’s door. I went back to the right floor and yes, the party was partying. Not in a good way. We didn’t know the host but knew a co-host who wasn’t really a co-host because he knew another co-host that was a co-host at another party. We got to the door and the bouncer, who I presume was the host, asked for our drink before we made our way into the party. I was at the front and pushed his hand aside and walked in. To my surprise, the ashy butt and hanging bosom, were ploys to attract us. We had been duped.
I backed out so fast I forgot ashy butt’s waist was wrapped out my arm. I’m too sleek for myself. Now there was a problem. We didn’t want to share our drink because there were no females as promised except for the chained dog that didn’t even bark when I said she wasn’t a bad bitch. Dog just lost valuable points there for chickening out. Ashy butt was with us now because she saw we still had fresh bottles and looked equally fresh, draped in cheap clothes.
The host started cussing us out and we just stood there, bottles now open, staring at ashy butt and looking for a way out. Out of nowhere, Max steps in and calls out the host. Max is our co-host. The guy that knew the guy that heard about the party from the invited guy. It was all calm at the beginning and we knew he had it all under control until he let out a yelp. Not those loud ones, the kind a puppy makes when you startle it. Brief yet definitive.
We knew it was about to go down. Before we could roll our sleeves and dish out capital punishment, Max started crying. He wasn’t folded up or being roughed up. No, Max was crying roughing up the host. In all this confusion, ashy butt had escaped and we couldn’t trace her. Things were getting even weirder by the minute. Lazarus disappearing from his tomb was straight up David Blaine but this was undocumented. The host started weeping and he and Max were comforting each other.
I’m still confused as to why any of them cried but I had seen enough and decided to pull the plug. The hookah pot they were using belonged to a friend and I decided to confiscate it. Ok, this was after we ran out of charcoal and even tried chopping wood from someone’s fence. I rushed down the stairs and signaled my friends to follow suit. We were bringing an end to this party. We dashed into the darkness with the hookah in tow.
Why we carried the hookah is still beyond either of us. We finally got to the crying bandit’s house and pulled out some charcoal. One of our friend’s girlfriend was there and ashy butt as well. Come to think of it, ashy butt was probably the most loyal stranger I’d met. She ditched her own birthday party for us. I’m sure it wasn’t because we were cool because we weren’t.
We set up the hookah and started smoking one of the most vile carbon products I have ever inhaled in my life. I could feel all the exhaust mufflers cheering me on. But why did ashy butt follow us anyway? I had no money and neither did my friends. I did smell good though. I had one of those free Bvlgari colognes and ladies love a man who knows the value of free things.
Anyway, we smoked to our feel and ashy butt had no option but to spend the night. The surprising thing is that she looked extra shiny in the morning bar the butt fissure. My condoms were still fresh, ready to protect me through another rough week. I gathered everyone to the living room and made a declaration that I would never attend a party someone I went to school with had organized.
I kept my word. For four days I did not answer to any call for a party. On Friday morning, I got a call from another friend. There was a party. In such situations I always referred to the bible and asked myself, what would Jesus do? I forgave my friends and as soon as my class was over, I bathed in cologne (still Bvlgari) and headed out for a party. This time it was definitely going to be different.