YOUR MCM IS 25
At midnight, she changed her handle to @Fauxlaqemi as fireworks heralded the new year. She pretended that the sparks flew in honour of her new username. If she wasn’t alone in her room, she would have bragged out loud to whomever cared to indulge her; she was proud of her vanity but scared to be seen as pretentious.
“LOOOOL. You are so vain,” a random follower, @BimboAjet, once quoted her tweet when she compared herself to Beyoncé.
“Thank you so much, it means a lot to me,” she responded in witty affirmation after liking the pseudo-compliment.
She enjoyed the way the new ‘like’ icon for Twitter popped colourfully with an unhampered, confident red.
She rolled on her back, plopped carelessly on her bed and let the cool from the air conditioner in her room waft all over her. She was keen on a better online image in the new year and in a bid to follow up on rebranding herself, she decided on a new Twitter bio. She would end the year with an increase in die-hard fans, she swore.
She scrolled through her Following, searching for inspiration for a new bio. Her old one had read, “A polished ball of dirt. Bears. Beets. Battlestar Galactica.” It sounded neat, well thought-out and learned. Although, the bio was nothing of particular meaning, it simply served the purpose of synonymity with an elitist mindset.
Upon signing up on the social network four years ago, she quickly learned that it was a crime, a social taboo to openly claim or ascribe upon another tweep the characteristics of elitism. But it was okay to design your online presence in such a way that indicated you were snooty and picky about whom was worthy of your interaction - that way, one would not come off as pretentious and arrogant – because no one can force who you interact with and how you do it. She was online when @LOSGIDDY, a popular Twitter user posted an article on his blog, condemning the convergence of a socially superior clique called ‘TBH Twitter’ and she had thought it, like most online fuss revolving around the Nigerian online community, was hilarious.
She was intelligent. She understood that elitism on Twitter was not so much marked by individual handles or a bunch of handles as much as it was born out of a movement, an idiosyncratic defiance to conforming to a loose way of typing, laughing and lack of sufficient information about particular topics. She understood that elitism was not what anyone could give you – it was forcefully taken and featured by a bunch of things like proper punctuation, echoing what the already-smart said, having a niche you constantly talk about, reposting academic links in your own handle without retweeting it from the source and the ability to conjure a proper hashtag whether it blows up or not – and you could be an elitist and still be in the minority of the movement. In the days that follow, she will live vicariously through her phone, experiencing escalated events in the form of threads and quoted tweets and features of trailer jams by mean, attention seeking bloodhounds, and she lived for it.
As she scrolled on for bio ideas, she came across some that lit her creative fire:
“What good is a sword next to a shotgun?”
“Context, please. Sibling. Aspiring Bad Guy.”
“Arsenal will not kill me for my mother.”
“FEMINIST | A man’s ego can be crushed like a grape between Serena Williams’ buttocks | Mi o gbadun”
“Carbon based life-form mostly (but not exclusively) interested in books, music and movies.”
“TV shows, movies, music, food and books make me really happy.”
“Electric Lady. ARA PREMIUM. Unapologetically forward. Feminist. Cinephile. Arsenal FC. Mrs Batman.”
“Give cheerfully… love radically!!! Bear’s bae.”
“Healer. Fighter. Honorary Flapper. Poetry Lover. Glitter girl. Intuitive. Ingénue. Creative. Archangel. Feeler of all feels.”
“bad um tss”
“Former child. Reluctant adult. Whiskey enthusiast. MUFC”
“Constantly pushing the boundaries of acceptable behavior. If Im a pain in your ass, we can just add more lubricant. Budding writer. Accomplished Asshole.”
And finally, the one that resonated with her the most:
“And if there be no water, we will swallow the sea.”
She wanted to come up with something like that. In reason, it was brilliant, poetic and activism-inspired. Something about it suggested a mind full of thoughts. She wanted to have that exact image. So when she finally put thumb to keypad, she came up with: “The impeded stream is the one that sings.” It was a lure to intelligent minds as she herself was a sapiosexual. It was pure enough to suggest cohesion and coherence but mystifying enough to provoke a conversation by someone who wanted to learn or a simple follow back from an eventual die-hard fan.
It was 3:00 AM and her TL was lit with merry messages of a new year and recycled jokes about not having done something since “last year”. Her eyelids weighed a ton and they dropped naturally. She caught herself dosing so she impulsively tweeted, “My pillow feels different tonight. I hope I don’t wake up with a strain. Oh, and Happy Fucking New Year, guys,” and fell deep into sleep.
***
He woke up with his neck feeling sore and it felt like a vein had popped right into his bloodstream. He checked for his pillow and found that it had fallen off the bed’s edge. He winced in pain and immediately noticed how girly he sounded, so he grunted for a masculine effect. He made himself chuckle and imagined how many retweets the thought would garner if he put it into words, but he would not use the terms ‘girly’ and ‘masculine’ in his tweet. It was too early to strike out of social grace with irritable online feminists, so he thought about substituting the terms with the phrase ‘hard guy’. He reached for his phone and dragged down the notification panel
Gmail (3)
Medium (1)
Instagram (7)
WhatsApp (2)
He didn’t see his Twitter interaction count because he had signed out last night before he went to bed, so he signed in.
username: @TheFickleJerk
password: organisetwitter007
Twitter (42)
He got signed in and happened upon 42 interactions altogether. Before he went to bed the previous night, last year, he had tweeted, “Please don’t move to me. I do not have money. I am bad with communication. I don’t know how to do the sex. I am very annoying.”
He was pleased that he’d gotten retweeted into the new year. He had a couple of quotes on the tweet, 28 retweets and 10 likes. Even better was that his crush, @Fauxlaqemi had liked his tweet. He figured someone retweeted him onto her TL because they did not follow each other. He scrolled through her timeline and saw that the last time she tweeted was 3 days ago. He retweeted the first tweet he saw on her TL before he actually took out time to read it:
My pillow feels different tonight. I hope I don’t wake up with a strain. Oh, and Happy Fucking New Year, guys.
He got so excited; he took it as a good sign that both their necks hurt and decided to move to her that day. He imagined that the new year was symbolic of something good and if she was cold to him, he preferred it happened early in the year so he could forget about it before quickly enough.
He was going to retweet the next tweet on her TL but it was a retweet of @FantaBender’s tweet and he despised the handle. Once, his friend, @Pejasmine697 had told him that she met @FantaBender in person and he was shorter than a nap in a house full of periodic alarms. He did not exactly have a problem with @FantaBender’s height but he hated the fact that @Pejasmine697 met @FantaBender in person and they made out. He had liked @Pejasmine697 at the time but he did not shoot his shot early and the moment passed. So he skipped to the next tweet on @Fauxlaqemi’s TL and retweeted her retweet of @Mariey_x’s tweet. Her, he fancied. He’d once imagined following her and she following back almost immediately; they’d send messages in the DMs and schedule a make out session in his head. He figured that he had created enough interaction on @Fauxlaqemi’s account and if she noticed him at all, she would not be surprised if he slid into her DM.
@TheFickleJerk scrolled through his TL, and then he remembered that he would rather scroll through his Twitter List named, ‘Ace.’ It was stuffed with a handful of handles that he fancied. Some he followed, some he didn’t but they all either made him laugh, think or learn something new every once in a while. Ace members consisted of:
@_TokeA
@badt_BOI_
@I_pissVodka
@Hxgo_
@DwinTheStoic
@whotfisNiran
@TheVunderkind
@Minnie_amor
@ToluBablo
@_Ortodox
@potterswork
@thecomicalmini
@duchesskk and
@WalleLawal
The truth was that he secretly hated some of these handles and he loved how much he hid it. They reminded him of him and when he read certain tweets from them, he thought to himself, “I could have tweeted that! I am that smart!” Although, he, like most of the handles he followed, liked attention, he had learned to pace himself. He was clever, he knew that any tweet which had the potential to blow up required timing and relatable wordings and he was quite adept at that. He made most of his retweet fortune by quoting other tweets. It was not as though the tweets he quoted made no sense, he just knew the most intelligent and provocative ways to make them sting and go viral. He fancied @fkabudu because the handled also reminded him of him; she liked attention and eagerly quoted tweets just like him but you could not fault her because she did it with so much finesse and masqueraded her vantage point as one from which she cared. It was brilliant.
“Hard guy, hard guy but you wince when the angle of your pillow strains your neck and you can’t reverse car properly.”
***
She fancied the sound of Twitter notifications. If she were vocal about it, she would tweet that the buzz was such a turn on for her. She was in a danfo, on her way to Ikeja from Obalende and her discomfort was brutal. The people around her smelled of fish and the man to her right had perspiration that smelled of stale grease. She shuddered and in an attempt to ease her own discomfort, she decided to bury herself in something fun. She turned on her data connection and got a couple of notification buzzes from Twitter. She checked and saw that she had a couple of retweets and 2 likes, but the likes were of her retweet of @FantaBender and @Mariey_x’s tweets. Even though she preferred retweets to likes, she didn’t like the fact that she had no likes of her own.
She scrolled through her TL and found that @Temxtope, a handle she despised so much was trending. She thought to herself in regret how she should have blocked him earlier because she despised his gut. Truly, he was witty and maybe even a genius but she had tried to get him to notice her a few times and in those moments, he played the fool. Even when she sent him direct messages in 2014, he never replied. She got with the current trend and went through his TL, anyway. He had tweeted a thread on an experience he had with a woman who bashed his car and to diffuse the woman’s madness, he had bought a bottle of Fanta. She found it hilarious, she caught herself giggling in the bus but she quickly stopped. She had once decided that a way to deal with hated handles would be to block them but she thought it petty and a superfluous reaction to handling one’s own emotions.
*BUZZ*
She left her direct message open to anyone after realising one could get job offers in the oddest way, she did not want to block her shot at an odd opportunity. So when she got a direct message from a handle she saw often but did not follow, @TheFickleJerk, she smiled. New notification buzzes made her body move sensually. She did not think a lot of him but she thought his tweets were cool. Sometimes, a little over the top but he was definitely good entertainment whenever she saw his handle. His DM to her read:
TFJ @TheFickleJerk
“Hello, I noticed you changed your handle. The new one looks quite nice. I hope it’s not a crisis of identity or anything? LOL!”
“Haha, yes I did. I just wanted a make-over of some sort. Nothing serious.”
“Oh cool. I’ve always wanted to say you’re beautiful.”
“So say it.”
“LOL! You are beautiful. What’s the name?”
“Thank You. Can’t you tell from my handle?”
“Oh, wait! Does @Fauxlaqemi mean Folakemi?”
“You catch on quick. Smart man.”
“Yay. 10 Points for Gryffindor?”
“Nah. Sorry. Slytheren for life!”
“*Slytherin”
“LOL. That’s valid too. Do you want to hang out sometime?”
“08028850746. Call me TheFickleJerk.”
“Fine, you’re the fickle jerk.”
“Lmao I meant call me, then I simply mentioned your name.”
“I’m hurt that you didn’t think I got the joke.”
“Lol I know you did. I have to go now, my Uber is here.”
“Alright. Bye.”
@Fauxlaqemi asked for another drink, this time with less ice. She hated bar extortions that included packing a cup full of ice and filling it with less liquor than expected. It was especially a big deal today because she wanted to get slightly tipsy before her date came. She tweeted, “It sucks when your expectation of liquor intake is supposed to get you to sucking face with a stranger but it exceeds that and you have to suck his dick with Vodka in your mouth.”
*BUZZ*
10 minutes later, 39 retweets, 86 likes.
She smiled as @TheFickleJerk walked in. He was not as tall as she’d hoped but his appearance made up for her disappointment. They had talked over the phone after he slid into her DM and she found out his name but she somehow played a habit of calling him by his Twitter handle and he did not seem to mind. He was darker than her and also naturally had darker hair; his haircut was neat and well parted on the side with a clipper. She observed that the shades he wore into the bar was unbalanced on the edge of his nose, looking asymmetrically on his face. He, however was good looking; not so much to frequently post on Instagram but good enough not to be embarrassed if his pictures leaked on Twitter.
“Hello bae,” he said as they hugged, she still sitting on the stool rooted in front of the bar table, “I’m sorry I took a while,” he apologised.
“No, it’s fine. I wasn’t bored. I’ve been on Twitter.” She downplayed his lateness as she decided that she liked him already.
“Yeah, I saw your tweet on my way here.”
“Oh, you did, huh?” She asked in a sultry voice, loosely playing with a straw around her mouth.
He took her hand in his, leaned into her from his stool, their faces an inch apart, “Yes, I like. Are you going to control your alcohol?”
“I think we should both go wild, don’t you think?”
“Yes, yes. If we’re both drunk when we fuck, there won’t be stories that touch in the future.”
She knew what he meant. There had been an increase in Twitter rape stories and he feared he could be a victim, so he expected mutual inebriation.
They both got wasted and when they finally decided to leave the bar, it was agreed that he would not drive under the influence. They got in the car and she asked him if his air conditioner worked, he said yes. She didn’t ask because she needed the cold but because she observed his windows were tinted, she wanted them to stay up as no one could see them and the idea of fucking right there appealed to her.
They made out for about 5 minutes and in the middle of their kiss, her phone kept buzzing. The more it buzzed, the harder she kissed. She sucked on his tongue so hard; he feared she might bite it off. He noticed that her phone’s buzzing occurred more frequently but instead of asking why, he simply said, “Get in the back seat and get ready for head and maybe a fuck.”
“Okay, check my Twitter now, though,” she said, stretching for passage, she exited the passenger’s seat to the back seat. He picked his phone, opened the door and got out of the driver’s seat. He preferred a more comfortable entry into the back seat. As he got out of the car, he checked her Twitter and saw that before they started making out, she had sent out a tweet:
Fola @Fauxlaqemi . 7m
I’m going to fuck the shit out of your MCM on our first date. He’s 25.
He retweeted it, increasing the count to 137 RTs and slipped into the back seat with her. He heard her phone buzz as he took his seat.
“I just buzzed your phone with my retweet. Now, let me buzz you with my tong-” she shoved his face into hers and cut him short. He was talking too much and she needed him to get down on her, she moved his head towards her vagina and parted her legs simultaneously.
***
Twitter user @Temxtope signed out, heaving a sigh of relief for the peace and quiet that washed over him. Shortly after, he got WhatsApp message from his friend, @TheFickleJerk. They had met online and later, physically, at an organised football event called Twitter Premier League. They got talking and got pretty close within a year. They usually shared articles and short stories but did more of critiquing other people’s work online.
“Yo! Im at Farmcity, Ogudu. Im wasted af, can u pl s come pik us up. I just fucked this babe hehe,” read the message from @TheFickleJerk. He thought about driving all the way to Ogudu to pick up his friend and decided it was a good idea since he was bored that evening.
So he texted back, saying, “I’ll drive there in a bit.”
He already started his car, warming the engine for drive when he got a reply from TFJ, begging him not to bring his car because another one is available. So he ditched his car and got in a cab headed to Ogudu. On arrival, he saw TFJ’s car instantly. It had the only tinted windows around. He knocked on the glass and the back door swung open. He peeped through the door and saw @Fauxlaqemi sprawled across TFJ, breasts out. She lifted her head and tucked her breasts into her bra as she recognized him, just as he knew her immediately. She knew his face from stalking his Instagram. He knew her also because she had once sent a series of direct messages to him, including several nude pictures, none of which he had replied.
She sat up in a rush and said, “TFJ, is this your friend?” But she got no response. TFJ was passed out. Suddenly, she felt woozy. She swung the car door open at her end and ralphed on the floor. @Temxtope went to the driver’s seat The engine was already running. He thought about how lavishly TFJ lived, he burned fuel so carelessly at a time when fuel was precious. He swung the car into movement and drove towards TFJ’s house. He drove in silence, occasionally glancing at her through the center mirror. They had come to a traffic light when he said, “Hi.”
She wasn’t sure whether to reply or not. Even though they had never spoken, she felt like she owed him an explanation of some sort. She was still in the habit of getting him to like her but now, all possibilities of that ever happening were thwarted by what he had just seen. If she had known he was friends with TFJ, she would have never replied TFJ’s DM. Tears ran down her face but she wiped it before @Temxtope could notice. She smelled of alcohol, sperm and vomit and she was damn sure he could smell it on her all the way from the driver’s seat.
“Hi,” she replied, not looking up.
“So yeah, are you guys going home together or do I have to drop you off somewhere?”
“The next bus stop please, I’ll take a cab home,” she responded.
He nodded without saying a word. He imagined that she must feel terrible and he wondered what he could say to ease her discomfort but he just took to Twitter instead and tweeted, “Long, awkward car drives are the worst. I’m convinced those drives are a version of hell.”
He imagined that she must have seen his recent thread on Twitter and panicked immediately; what if she thinks I’m going to tweet about this, he thought to himself. He gave himself one more shot to ease her and said, “Don’t worry, this doesn’t leave this car.” He didn’t think it was smart but he said it anyway.
“Yeah, thanks.”
The light turned green and he did not stop until she reached her bus stop. She got out of the car hastily and without looking back, made her way to the taxi park close by. He drove off feeling sorry for putting her in such an awkward situation. At the next red light, he reached for his phone and searched for her handle to stalk her TL for what might arise.
No results for “@Fauxlaqemi”
***
Photo credit: Google.
Disclaimer: This is purely fiction. Similarities to Twitter handles, bios or Twitter-related events are purely coincidental. If you find this post offensive, you can reach me on Twitter at @Temxtope. You won’t get much out of it but you’ll at least know where to find me. #Blessed.
