DOES IT REALLY MATTER?
Have we given inordinate heed to the redundant stuff in our relationships? Do we shape tycoons out of our partners or build affection that’s gonna rear? In the name of cursing phrases, I would really support the idea, for it’s given rise to such claims, “Money doesn’t buy happiness. “Not that am holding up the scrapping of such couches, but since when did a starving woman sleep happy? In which century did we get such notions, coz it’s entirely not in my world. From when did an empty stomach be at fence to the proximity of happiness?
Relationships give a knock on the same door over again. Does it really matter if we hook up at ice cream shops rather than exorbitant dates? We all wanna have a love tale that we glimpse at in the movies, but no!! I ain’t gonna pretend uttering a foreign language in the name of being out with my guy.
Yeah, I said it clearly. Am not gonna pack myself in those mettalic chairs claiming to be having fun, when in the genuine sense, I just wanna combine both our plates served with the best meal order and throw it right at your face, pull you up and question you close, right in the eyes, “Boy, what are we doing, Let’s get out and have some fun.” Because frankly, dates are my worst nightmares.
Eighteen wasn’t the age for me to veer and clock to adulthood. And till date, I still persist that I embraced maturity at nineteen. I would wanna rewind us back to seventeen. To those adventurous days. Do you remember the tiny girl y’all saw walking reliantly day in day out, with that black trouser? She’s the one that was within an inch to spoiling herself at her teens.
Oooow yeah,,,”The Black trouser.”Not that it was the only fit I looked good on, but I had no doubt it was the most comfortable cloth I could find in my wardrobe. It was comfy enough to an extent that people’s opinions on my looks played no importance. I could roam amidst a thousand eyes without even a thought of looking at my back. Honestly, how can a lady spend an entire day without appointing someone as her mirror?
That was the self confidence I had, till I met this guy. A guy who only saw beauty in dresses and vast ear jewels. To be sincere, I couldn’t keep up with those stuff that made me endure a drag. But guess what, in a flash, I disclosed myself in a red beautiful dress with huge dark trinkets. That was the taste of despise, for I found no pleasure in that look. But since it moved him, did it really matter?
