“Did she comment on my post?”, “why hasn’t she inboxed me?”, “she didn’t even comment on both my status and profile picture like she always does”, “will she accept to be my valentine anyway?”, “moreover its two days to Valentine’s Day.”
"Did she comment on my post?”, "why hasn’t she inboxed me?”, "she didn’t even comment on both my status and profile picture like she always does”, "will she accept to be my valentine anyway?”, "moreover its two days to Valentine’s Day.”
These are the pressures I took for committing to someone I had met on Facebook last year. I barely even knew Brenda. Gash why me!
She was the sweetest person I had ever been in contact with. Behaved I imagined. Beautiful she is, I claimed because of her photos I saw in her Facebook album. Eh! Anyone would fall for her!
It’s about a week to Valentines Day and hey…I am still on the move to win this charming person over. I check her wall daily. I even went ahead to play detective to see the comments she shares with other people.
I have been in contact with her for four month now and God knows she was a flirt; a nice one to be precise. The more she flirted with me the more I sunk into her dirty talk and loved her the more. We have been stuck together (on Facebook of course).
I started a Valentine’s Day countdown.
Four days to the mighty Valz day, I "goggled” a sweet status to post on her wall, it read… "I have already killed some helpless flowers for you…what else do u want?”
She wrote back! (Comment withheld), but it was good enough to raise a single man’s spirit and repair a broken heart. She makes me forget my grievances.
Two days to Valentine’s Day, we make arrangements to meet at the most cozy place around town to celebrate our love. Cash was not my problem; I had acquired my monthly salary and saved something weeks before.
The thought of taking out a beautiful girl like Brenda did not leave my mind. I have always had a phobia for dating ladies who didn’t meet my well-set standards.
The V-Day arrived. Time check is about 5:00 p.m and so I call my sweetie, Brenda, and we agree to meet at the cozy restaurant downtown where I had made reservations. Dressed to kill, in shiny shoes, black suit, and red shirt, I was surely dressed to impress. I was early by 10 minutes just to make sure everything was going smoothly.
I sat and slowly sipped my luscious wine. Shortly, I saw an old lady who seemed lost.
"I wish I would spend the rest of my life with Brenda and live through our golden years just like this old lady and her valentine she has come to dine with,” I thought.
Smartly dressed in red, she walks up to my table and inquires.
"Hi,” she greets me.
"Hey,” I replied.
"Are you expecting someone called Brenda?” she asks.
"Ahem…ummh, yaa?” I hesitatingly replied as my heart skipped a beat.
"Oh, nice to meet you I am actually Brenda,” she says.
"Whaaww… there must be some kind of mistake, Old lady, I know Brenda, you are not the one,” I say with my heat drumming.
She insists and explains about our encounter on ‘Facebook’ and all that…
I was shocked out of my chair and took off before onlookers could suspect anything. I was pissed off so much that I had to un-Facebook my account and defriend her to burry my disappointment. I had been enticed and fooled by her photos and about the flirty chats, let’s not even go there!