Facebook Palaver

FACEBOOK PALAVER

     “This Facebook is so boring today.” Metu thought, felt disappointed.

       The 36-year-old Metu, who was still a bachelor, had been a freak of the popular social media platform - Facebook – for years. There was no day that passed that he wouldn’t sacrifice at least three consecutive hours for chatting alongside other available informal activities. He was obviously a handsome and promising young man, and his pictures cum profile could attest to it, thus no one that came across his account that wouldn’t wish to engage him on a prolonged chat.

      The remarkable thing about him was that, rather than looking out for every inspiring and entertaining aspect of the platform, each time he came online, he was particularly interested in pictures posted by his new female pals so that he would compliment them and engage the owner on an unscheduled chat. Suffice it to say that, he felt more comfortable and relaxed chatting with female folks; and there was no lady he sent a message to that hesitated replying owing to the charming attribute of his image.

       So, whenever there was no one of opposite gender to hook-up with, he got embarrassed and depressed. That was exactly how he felt on that Saturday evening as he lay in his bed in his one-bedroom-flat apartment situated in Calabar, the capital territory of Cross-River State, Nigeria. He had already spent almost an hour to no avail, yet his expectation remained high; he couldn’t afford to go offline without sending at least ‘hi’ to a damsel.

       Few seconds later having been exhausted, though still agile to mingle, four gorgeously looking portraits were posted by one of his new female pals on her wall. He quickly glanced at each of them, liked them and dropped a comment. His comment read thus ‘These are indeed pictures belonging to an African queen.’

      In a few minutes time, the lady responded ‘Thank you so much.’

      He never bothered dropping further comment on the pictures, instead he thought it wise to send a message to her inbox; hence, he wrote ‘Hi pretty!’

      “Hello handsome!” she jovially replied in a jiffy.

      Metu smiled. “I must confess,” he said “this Facebook is meant for people like you.” He hinted, hastily perused her profile to ascertain the prospect of the intended relationship.

      The profile indicated that she was equally a resident of Calabar, thus he felt so elated.

      “How do you mean?” she verified.

      “I meant, beautiful damsels like you.”

       Probably she smiled. “Are u sure?” she wrote.

      “Of course,” quoth Metu. “Absolutely sure.”

      “I’m flattered.”

      “Please don’t be.” he urged. “That’s what you are.”

      “Thanks.”

      “U’re welcome.” He typed, took a quick look at her name as written on the account. “So, what do I call you?” he enquired, ignoring her Facebook name – Abigail Johnson.

       “Abigail.”

       “Ok, I wanted to be sure.” he wrote. “You know, most people don’t use their real names on Facebook.”

       “Sure?”

       “Yes,” quoth Metu. “Especially ladies.”

       “Hmmm.” she typed. “Why?”  

       “Reasons best known to them.”

       “Alright.” quoth Abigail. “So, you are Ken, right?” she verified based on his profile name, which was ‘Ken Williams’.

       “Yea,” he lied. “Ken Williams.” He added.

        Fascinatingly, his real name was Metu Okafor.

       “Alright.” said Abigail.

       “Please,” Metu wrote. “how old are you?”

       “25.” Abigail responded. “You?” she added.

       “36.”

       “Waoow,” she typed. “You’re an old man oh!”

       “I quite agree with you.”

       “So, are you not married?”

       “Not yet.”

       “Still searching?”

       “Yep.” He replied. “So, what do you do?” he added in a jiffy.

       “Student.”

       “School?”

       “UniCal.” she replied, meaning University of Calabar.

       “Discipline?”

       “BF.” She wrote, meaning Banking and Finance.

       “Interesting.” Metu complimented. “What level?” he added.

       “400.”

       “So, you’re in your final year?”

       “Yea.”

       “Waoooow,” he typed. “I never knew I have been chatting with a big girl.”

       Perhaps she smiled. “Thanks.” she appreciated. “So, what do you do?” She added.

       “I am an engineering contractor.”

       “You must be a big man.” She teased.

       “By God’s grace.”

       “You live in Calabar too?” Abigail enquired, ignoring his profile which indicated he was a resident of the city in question.

       “Yep.” he clarified.

        The chatting, which spanned over hours, lingered till night.

        In barely two days time, they became best of friends on Facebook that they could spend several hours chatting about frivolous issues. Sometimes, he would even sound so romantic and vulgar without minding that they were yet to meet, let alone becoming real intimate friends. Funnily enough, she would respond accordingly without picking any offence; in other words, she was enjoying every bit of his company all along as if she was being charmed.

       The following week, he invited her over to his apartment, and she succumbed without even considering using delay tactics, which were synonymous with ladies. By her mode of respond, he understood she longed for the invitation.

                                  * * * * * *

       “Oh, my God ..!” Metu exclaimed on sighting Abigail as he opened his door to welcome her having received a knock. “You are indeed prettier than you look on Facebook.”

       She was dark, slim and about 5.5-foot tall, and was irresistibly beautiful. She wore ash jeans trousers, pink top coupled with pink high-heeled sandals, and ash handbag. Her hairs were newly and gorgeously plaited; it seemed she plaited the hairs purposely for the outing.

       She smiled, remained speechless, and was equally moved by his handsome look.

       He was fair, plump, about 5.8-foot tall, and was clad in white Pajamas spotted with red flowers.

       They majestically walked to the parlour and sat adjacent to each other. “You are highly welcome!” Metu exclaimed.

      “Thank you.” she appreciated, smiling.

      “Please, what do I offer you?”

      “No, don’t bother.”

      “How do you mean?” he frowned. “This is your first time in my house for crying out loud.”

      “Okay, any soft.”

      “Alright,” he said. “Please, give me some seconds.” He enjoined, stood up and walked away.

       Few minutes later, he returned with two canned malts for himself and the guest.

       While taking the drink, she slept off right in the brownish settee where she was seated.

       Sure, he had drugged her, as usual. Metu wasn’t new in the game; that was the umpteenth time he would indulge himself in such ungodly act. His womanizing nature was the sole reason he never bothered settling down, and that was also why he was making use of fake names on social media.

       In about an hour’s time, Abigail woke up only to find herself in his bed covered merely with a wrapper. She felt so exhausted, ashamed and flabbergasted.

      “Wha…t?” she shouted. “Where am I?”

        It was unarguably the most devastating and horrific moment in her entire life.

       Metu who lay right beside her in his purplish shorts, looked at her and kept calm, though felt guilty.

       What happened thereafter was more terrifying. You can’t afford to miss it! Meanwhile, if you were in her shoes, what would be your reaction afterwards? Think about it!

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