I scroll through my timeline, pausing only for some seconds to read the tweet from Nigerian Newsdesk.
Jonathan fires education Minister, eight others http://t.co/nJgCiOV06r
“Boring,” I say with a sigh. “Nothing is happening on Twitter today.”
Reaching behind me, I use my right hand to plump one of my pillows before lowering myself to it. I squirm and turn around for some minutes until I am comfortable. Returning my attention back to the timeline, I find another tweet.
“He is too short, he is not rich…” I pause to roll my eyes. “Bla bla bla bla, and that is how Aunty Beauty clocked 50 years.” I move past the offending tweet. “Last time it was Aunty Flora. The joke is no longer funny.”
I attempt a few more tweets and decide to give up.
“I’ll just sleep.”
TEN MINUTES LATER
I clutch the edge of the sink and give in to another round of laughter as Ronke regales me with stories about her meeting with the man she had been talking to online for the past two months. Straightening up minutes later, I dab the corner of my eyes with my left hand.
“What? It is true jor,” my best friend Ronke says at the other side of the phone with a long drawn hiss. “I am not going to put any effort into meeting him for dinner. His mates are coming from America with bottles of perfume while he is coming back with a small box of chocolate. Abi did they tell him that we don’t have chocolate in Nigeria?”
“You should have told him what you wanted when he asked you.”
“How was I supposed to know he was going to come with just a box of chocolate?”
I grin and lean closer to the mirror to examine the bump in the middle of my forehead.
“Lighten up jare. He might just be worth it at the end of the day.”
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