A repentant gigolo

If anybody ever told me that I would walk this road someday so soon, I would argue with the very last drop of my blood. But here I am, in my black tuxedo with bow tie, shinning shoes, crisp haircut and clean-shaved, standing in front of the aisle at St. Aquinas Catholic Cathedral, patiently waiting for her to walk down the aisle.

My emotions are all muddled up right now. Everybody seems happy, but why don’t I share the feeling of happiness? Am standing here alone (maybe not entirely alone, Adeleke, my best friend since our undergraduate days is beside me, my best man), about to take a vow, about to give away my freedom and license to explore the exotic and erotic pleasures the world has to offer, and commit to a monotonous routine lifestyle of agonizing fidelity. Why should I be happy?

But I am willing to take up this (miserable) lifestyle because of her. How a diminutive fragile being can have such a hypnotic grip over me, I cannot fathom.

The subtle tune of the hymn “Here comes the Bride” coming from the old wooden church organ geared me to consciousness; I could feel her presence in the church auditorium just as everybody rose to their feet. A slight whiff of her favourite jasmine fragrance made me nostalgic; I keep telling her that jasmine is meant for fairy tales. My heartbeat slowed down, reduced to heavy thumps, I feel my chest almost exploding as she moves closer.

My heart raced as she draws level with me. I couldn’t resist the urge to steal a glance. I turned slightly to look at her, behold such perfection, and a part of me wished time stood still, and she be like this forever. But soon, time and life would take it toll on her, and I hope I stay truthful to my vows and be there, by here side till death do us part.


by Ayomidotun Freeborn. Follow me on twitter @IamAyomiDotun.


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