The thought, ‘who watches over honest, single girls living in Lagos?’ echoed through my head as I strolled from the small shop at the gate towards my modest apartment within the large family compound.
Just as it had popped up, the idle thought fizzled out quietly and I was left wondering what had originally triggered it. A sharp pain from somewhere on my left hand drew my attention downwards to the source of the pain. Distracted by my sudden thought and somewhat disturbed by another nagging one, I had been absent mindedly twisting my middle finger at the place where the wedding band is usually positioned. By so doing, I had worn the flesh sore, thus drawing blood. A slight shudder ran through me at the delicate implication of my action. Why the suppressed rage?
Suppressed or not, the truth was that I was really disturbed at the genre of conversation that had just transpired between I and the individual at the small shop by the gate and try as much as I might, I could not shake off the feeling that I had somehow triggered the approach and genre of conversation. I was also trying my best to convince myself that the subtle implied meaning I perceived was nonexistent. But deep down, I knew what was being implied.
However, to my reasoning, there was no justification for the implied meaning. I couldn’t find any and I felt sorry that my inopportune situations had made me subject for such intentions. Did I exude a particular aura that provoked these perceive yet unwanted advances? Was my appearance unseemly? Quickly I scrutinized my appearance to verify this claim. I was attired in an ankle length plaid, brown skirt, a cream colored jacket and a darker shade of cream inner camisole. My appearance was nothing less than proper. I felt certain of it.
At the same time, I knew that my appearance had always been decent so I couldn’t have in any way provoked the advances on my own initiatives. Still pondering over the real reason for this, the faint strains of a melody flittered towards my from a neighbor’s window. It was the song “Forever Young” music by Jay-Z feat. Mr. Hudson and the realization suddenly hit me. The real reason for this unsolicited advance: what is it about the adult male that he is forever seeking to perpetuate his youth by continuously seeking out younger and even younger female conquests? Was it an underlying aching need to remain forever young? Maybe it was. Maybe . . .