The Fine Boy Syndrome: Lamentation Of the Other Boy - (MUST READ)

The Fine Boy Syndrome (Lamentation of the Other Boy) - By Chat Ishaya

I quite disagree with Kwesi Armah that ‘the beautiful ones are not yet born’ (literally of course) because they have and I hate stating that fact. It hurts. The beautiful boys (men) are everywhere.They make the covers of billboards, grace the front pages of sleek magazines, take up leading roles (lover boys) in movies, … I can go on and on but I won’t, for obvious reasons.

Lurking behind their glittering façade is pride, fear and vulnerability. What more? They are so damn lazy, as they most a times, wait for opportunity to come knock at their doors and to my utter dismay, it undeservingly fucking does! (Oh Lord am about to scream). And someone had said that ‘the sun shines on all and sundry’ but just checkout these personal experiences and tell me you agree with that wryly statement…

o I strive hard to look good- the fine guy doesn’t.

o He effortlessly gets all the attention- I get less or nothing at all.

o The fine guy gets the green light- I get a grey one or worse, a black one.

o We both get the booty call but he gets the cookies. Heck!

o I make extra efforts to impress- he doesn’t yet still shines. o We both went for that bank job interview and were both excellent. The fine guy got the job, I didn’t. Come on!

Yeah, he got the charms. He is smart and calculative. The good things of life are by his side or they seem to be. Oh no Ex, how easily you have forgotten, telling me one time that all that glitters…

With his charming looks, you were right on edge. With his warm smile, you had an automatic crush. And… oh God! With all those niceties and sooth talking, you already wished he was yours. And when some days later he got you a box of your favourite chocolate (how on earth did he know that), you thought of him that night munching those chocolates to bed and he somehow crawled into your dream. The next day, you wore something nice and appealing. He complimented you and you blushed like a little girl. He could read your mind because you were so transparent. So he asked you out for dinner. You said no and created an excuse. He smiled a knowing smile and left. Damn! You bite your lower lip and called yourself a bitch.

You hated him for not being persistent like other men. Even after he left, you still stood there inhaling his eau de cologne and wishing you could turn back time. So you waited for another opportunity that seemed not to come. Days passed, not a glimpse of him nor a word. You became impatient. You cursed yourself. A week later, he was at your door. You breathed in smelt that strong cologne again and prayed it was him. Something jolted out of you when you saw him and hoped he didn’t catch the desperation in your eyes. He asked you to go with him to a reading club. Without a second thought, you declined. He looked quizzed. You smiled and told him you were not the book type. You then asked him to come in, surprising yourself. He hesitated. You loathed him for that. In the living room, you both sat at opposite directions and shared a bottle of wine talking about work, politics, trends, cars. He loved cars. You watched his pink lips and well groomed beard as he talked and suddenly you thought of those chocolates in his mouth. You caught him stealing a stare at your
chest. He quickly turned away, stood up and went to look at an abstract painting. He was shy. It greatly pleased you that he was. He asked for a refill, you did and refilled yours standing a few inch from him. As he sipped, you watched his Adam’s apple and wanted to bite his neck. Oh no, it must be the alcohol. He tilted his glass to your lips, you sipped and chuckled. Your eyes were liquid with desire. He knew. He pulled you closer and you reach for his chest. He kissed you. It felt warm. You were all over him. He was all over you. Minutes later, you were panting. He was sweating. You asked him to leave because you were on a night shift. You sneered as you watched him get dressed. He caught the sneer and sneered back. You both laughed. He kissed you on the cheek and reached for the door.

Ifeoma your friend, yes, the one that never shuts her mouth told me everything. She was ranting about how happier you are now. She also said you told her that even though I got more humour and a bigger penis, ‘so what, to hell with all that’- your very words. Chai! I swear if I were God, I will drive a dagger into the hearts of all fine men and twist it. Oh, that would be murder, right? Maybe I should transport them all to a chemical industry and get their faces acidified. Suckers!