The man and the voice
So guy man was sitting in Mega Chicken about an hour ago. Not really sure of what he was doing aside fulfilling a daily stop by ritual. There is nothing that offers more fun to the eyes than sitting idle in a luxurious space and watching different shades of humanity do same things in different ways. For if there ever exists such a place with a balanced presentation of both glamorous and rough humans, this was the place.
Guy man sat, observed, munched some junk, felt the chilling air and repeated the same thing every minute for the next thirty minutes.
The mind occasionally prying further into ordinarily ordinary things like why she wore an incredibly mini skirt shorter than my temper, only to be pulling it down every two minutes like there were unseen malevolent hands pulling them up. Or why we wait endlessly to buy a bottle of Coca-Cola for N200 and happily pay with a smile.
Obeying this societal voice that urges humanity to go on and on until we suck humanity out of life and can no longer go on. We don’t know why we do it; I don’t know why I am wondering too, we just obey the voice.
Just when guy man’s time was up, the monotony of the immediate time past was broken by an alien intruder. Guy man beheld an extraordinary thing in so ordinary a setting.
A dashing young lady swayed in, so dashing! So dashing that you would begin to question if there is any fairness left in the world, for it is an utterly unfair comparison when you attempt to compare what I just saw and what I have been seeing. So elegant that elegance cannot just cut it. Beauty was rumoured to be in the eye of the beholder but you will be damned if you fail to behold this singular beauty. So singular and spiritual that guy man was trapped in-between standing up and sitting down, a confusion that would have been exceedingly shameful had it not befallen so many other people around.
She was a tall, dark lady with a petite perfect nose sitting below a pair of charming twinkling eyes. Her full red lips occasionally parted to reveal a graciously glittering dentition; this was an amazing grace. She wore a flowing red jumpsuit which made it genuinely seem like jumpsuits were solely invented for her kind.
Her skin was oozing with radiance, the very soul of delicacy, so perfect it should frankly be illegal.
Positioned sideways on her head was a brown woolly hat to complete the impression of someone who is very aware of her gifts. For as she stood and guy man watched, it was certain, this was the daintiest thing under a fedora. I confess that never have a finer specimen of splendour walked through that door.Surely this is God’s engineering.
A lot of things raced through guy man’s tormented mind, most consistently, the thought of when he was younger. When he could walk up to any woman and walk away the more glorified party. Now, his few liberties include mere distant admirations and gnashing of teeth in wanton regret.
Her entrance was greeted by a dozen relentless eyes fixed on her with so much commitment you would think she was that goal hard-working men were advised to fix their eyes on. Maybe it was, these were dedicated hardworking men and for now, this celestial presence was the goal. But again, man has conditioned himself to obey, obey that voice without any form of protest. So every man there obeyed the voice. The voice which told him this was too sophisticated for him. The voice that calculated all she was wearing and concluded she was too expensive for him.This voice crowned her a queen which makes a king the only thing she deserved.
The voice that only urged you to look but not too much lest you disrespect such glory. That voice, all full-bodied men obeyed with no one free-spirited enough to protest.
It was looking more likely like this beauty was going to waste away momentarily and guy man was not going to be entertained after all.
Just when guy man’s last hope on the good old human was about to be irreparably damaged. Up stepped a young man to save the universe. A hard-faced, square-jawed rugged man moved towards this lady whom better-placed men thought it wise to admire from afar. His hair was tangled, twisted and so discoloured you would never be able to guess whether it was a deliberate dreadlock or just comb malfunction.
His skin was greatly sunburned which explains the hardness; you could easily tell he used to be fairer and even bigger. When he passed, guy man could smell fresh burnt tobacco, so it’s either there is a tobacco perfume guy man hasn’t heard of or this man simply just did a smoke.
When you consider these with his unkempt grizzled bears, it is either hard times just befell him or he just doesn’t give a damn about his looks. I swear I have never seen so rough a man but yet it wasn’t his appearance but his confidence irrespective of it that baffled everyone.
No one would have offered any censure for this lady had she replied this uncouth bug with a slap.
I am sure some would have ventured to apologise on behalf of the man for daring to make the acquaintance of something beyond him.
But in jaw-dropping shock, we sat while they clearly got along.
Men would have sworn he must have known her before had they not been close enough to hear their conversation clearly. As they stood, painting a Beauty and the Beast picture, all he drew from her were genuinely lovely smiles. The same smile that got guy man tingly.
While self-acclaimed rational men listened to the unknown voice reeling out reasons upon reasons why this was suicidal, a free-spirited less gifted, less endowed man offered the bravest of protestations.
If you think Guy man is teaching about the mere beauty of a woman and how we should appreciate it, then you do yourself an injustice.
This is deeper, if you know, you know.