So, I Met This Girl…

This happened almost 20 months ago.

As I trudged through the darkness on the dirt road relying solely on my sense of positioning, I had a preconceived idea about my destination. I sighed softly and wished my generator was ok. My blackberry had died; there was no source of illumination. If only a car would drive by; stepping into a pond of murk was not anywhere in my plans for the night. I managed to make my way across the road and got to my destination. Gingerly, I pushed the gate open, not wanting to draw attention to the fact that “I am here to charge my phone again.”

I ventured into one of the rooms in the compound and collapsed on the bed. It felt moist. Groaning inwardly, I placed two fingers on the spot and sniffed slightly, no clue as to what it was. I silently prayed and hoped that someone accidentally spilled water on the bed. Grabbing a guitar resting by the corner and fiddling the strings like a pro, I stepped out of the room. I sauntered toward the main room, stopped by the door frame, marveled at the size and color of different flip flops with the other half of them missing. I knew I was never going to find my shoes once I had taken them off.

I heard her voice before I entered, it struck me as “one of those new girls, phew! Thank God I don’t live here.” There was always a new person at the lodge every time I got there. The night went on and we moved outside, I am sure few people know this; I am that kind of guy that sings along, it doesn’t matter the source of the music, the lyrics doesn’t matter either, I simply hum along. That particular evening, I buzzed along to a track by Jeremy Camp and that was how we met. She couldn’t resist a tune just as I couldn’t turn a deaf ear to one. We talked excitedly about our eclectic taste in music. It was a rare experience!

All through the frenzied exchange, I couldn’t make out the form of her face. I could only hear and feel the excitement in her voice.

Now fast forward some months later.

She looked gorgeous in her white sleeveless top and “polka dotty” skirt with a matching tie. Now that I think about it, I smile and shake my head. The tie was not necessary. We walked home with some of our friends from a send forth service. I am not sure if that was the first time she came to my apartment, but it was the lasting memory that I boxed up as lasting treasures.

We talked about so many things. It is funny that I cannot remember what we talked about exactly, but I remember that I enjoyed it immensely. Or maybe I felt I enjoyed it because I was thoroughly smitten. I think that day ranked the best of all memories I had stored away in my box of memories of her.

After reading her blog yesterday, it occurred to me that sometimes when we meet someone with similar passions, we get carried away and every preconceived line of conversation is gone with the wind. I felt it was appropriate to answer her question of “what goes through a guy’s mind, when girl of similar passions rambles on.” I will speak for myself and guys of like mind.

It is rare that you will find an intelligent, passionate and decent girl, who is interested in abstract stuff like you are, while still looking innocent and sweet. So when someone like her comes along, we get enthralled and awe struck.

I decided to write this ‘sequel’ because the first one reminded me of what I felt when I met her.


Really TY!!!! I remember everything from that first night. You tried to make me like mirror by Lil Wayne and Bruno Mars, pointing out all the ‘poetic’ lines and all. No, I still won’t get it!

And I got to downloading Three Doors Down and so many more. You still owe me some good band names though.

And that afternoon in your ‘apartment’ (hehe), we had the staple food of the Nigerian corper, Indomie, for lunch.

I think I remember almost everything we talked about. Definitely tops many days on my best day’s list in the Eastern state.

And did you notice your line ‘It is funny that I cannot remember what we talked about’ sounds like a line in Owlcity’s ‘Sunburn’?

Thanks TY.

I found a picture
I dug a picture

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