Chapter Twenty-One – The Push and a Friendly Favor

Lara was playing the game and she was winning while Kwame on the other hand wasn’t experiencing as much luck.

Dear male reader, never enter into a battle with a girl you like, to see who can get the most alternatives. You will lose. In the history of relationships, when a man begs for an open relationship, swearing that it’ll make things better, he is the same one to come back begging that exclusivity be restored.

The female specie was created to always attract. For every one girl in your DM, we have 10 boys. The amusing thing is that while you may have to put in the work to secure those other girls, we only have to post one picture. It could just be a laughing emoji or even a casual status update.

So, the next time you feel the need to challenge your girlfriend, remember that there are 15 boys outside, waiting for you to fumble.

Aah! I love being a woman.

Kwame’s competitor, Peter Agyekum was a 26-year-old man who made some good money in tech, not to mention his rich parents. Three times Lara had blown Kwame over to spend time with Peter who would pick her up in his black Range Rover and drop her off with a new wig, phone or whatever absurd thing.

I’m laughing so hard just recounting this. Each night, that Kwame spent visiting Nana Yaa, having meaningless conversations, Lara was out with Peter, dining at the finest restaurants. The queen of petty would share her escapades in the friend group but we all knew who was meant to see it.

Perhaps Kwame could have continued to bear this torment had it not been for the fact that Peter was not the only one. Yes, there were more.

In hindsight, I realize how inappropriate it is that these older men were comfortable pursuing a 19-year-old girl. In many ways Lara was a victim but then she knew how to play the game – most of the time.

Finally, Kwame had reached his boiling point. Lara had just returned from a baecation. Who goes on a baecation at the beginning of the semester? Lara that’s who.

“I don’t like that you’re going out with all these men and entertaining them. It’s not safe” Kwame whined.

“Don’t worry about my safety. I know how to take care of myself” Lara replied dismissively.

“Fine but I don’t want you to be seeing these other people.”

“Why? We’re not exclusive so what’s the problem. I don’t complain when you’re with Nana Yaa.”

“Okay. Then let’s be exclusive.”

Lara keeled over with laughter. Was that what she wanted to hear? Yes, but the vehicle upon which the proposal was riding was not favorable. It’s like eating fufu with stew. Although, we live in a strange world and I wouldn’t put it past some of you.

“No. the only reason you want to be exclusive is so you have me all to yourself. I know you Kwame. I’m the one you cheated with, remember? I’m not interested.”

Kwame left with his tail between his legs.

Ladies, you see, this is how it’s done. If you don’t give a man ‘the push’ you can expect to be dealt an unfavorable hand. Men don’t move unless motivated by the potential loss of something they want.

Think of the woman who’s been engaged for 10 years with two children to a man who’s still not sure he’s ready to be married yet. Had this same woman, woken up five years in and said “since you’re not sure you want to marry me, I’m leaving”, they would have been married for five years now and their children would not be left wondering why mummy and daddy are not married.

The push is necessary sometimes and Lara had given it to Kwame. What was he to do now? If he had proposed exclusivity and Lara had allowed her heart to leap at the proposal, she would be a repetition of Nana Yaa’s fate. The person hadn’t changed. He had only changed the rules of the game.

Now with Lara’s actions, Kwame was forced into a corner. He couldn’t have his cake and eat it. He would have to choose. Tonight, he would have to lay on his bed and decide “eeny, meeny miny mo, should I choose Lara or no”.

The results from the previous semester were rolling in and we all could tell that there was more that needed to be done but there was one among us who was far worse of. Mara sat on her bed staring at the clear F looking boldly at her. She had failed.

If you’ve spent most of your life topping your class or being above average at least, an F can seem like a knife to the heart. That being said, here’s where I tell you that uni is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced.

If you carry that same arrogance and pomp you did in High School into the university, you’ll be slapped about so violently you’ll forget how to put one foot in front of the other.

Many champions have landed in the university, failed in continuous succession and checked themselves into a mental institution. It’s sad to say, but brilliant students have flung themselves from rooftops or taking in more tramadol than was necessary. Why? Because they had been convinced all their lives that they were excellent students and yet they could not even pass a course, let alone ace it.

I say all this to say, be merciful to yourself and don’t walk into university thinking that you’ll casually stroll out like you did in primary school.

Well, that was unnecessarily dark and bleak. I wish I could avoid this storyline entirely. It still rests as a shadow over me but I have resolved to tell all, and tell all I shall.

Most of us in the group study had managed to escape with Bs and a few As. But Mara was staring at Ds and an F. She needed to do something, and fast. Her roommate suggested that perhaps she should see the lecturer involved. It could just as well be a mistake in the marking.

So, the next day, Mara was knocking on Mr. Mintah’s door. A gruff voice responded and she walked in and took her seat.

“Sir, please I checked my grade yesterday and saw that I had an F and so I wanted to come and see you today to see if something could be done about it” Mara said. She played violently with her fingers out of nervousness.

Mr. Mintah looked curiously at Mara. “And what something do you want done about it?” he asked. He looked at her from the top of his glasses.

“I don’t know. Perhaps you could remark it or I could retake it” Mara said.

“If that’s the case you can send an application for remarking or retake the exam at the end of the semester. Why have you come to my office?”

Mara suddenly felt stupid. She hadn’t thought of that. “I…um…”

“I can remark it for you but since I’ll be helping you, you have to help me” Mr. Mintah said after a while.

“Okay” Mara said nervously. She wondered what help a lecturer could need. Perhaps he would want someone to help him with his work or something of the sort. Mmhmm! Like a lecturer would want the intellectual help of a student who had just scored an F in his course.

He handed her a sticky note and she scribbled her name and number on it. Then he asked her for her student number before she left.

That night her F was magically changed into an A and there was a text from Mr. Mintah: “I hope you’ve seen my gift. How’re you?”