21/06/2025
IF I HAD KNOW
I once followed a talking stage to the club — not because she asked, but because I wanted to. A calculated risk. And trust me, I didn’t come unarmed.
I wore a black button-down shirt that hugged the gym work in all the right places, some fitted pants that whispered “intentions,” and cologne so potent it could convince a nun to text back. I looked like I smelled of danger, desire, and questionable decisions. I was the problem. And I knew it.
She, on the other hand, walked in like temptation dipped in trouble. Short dress. No respect for temperature, tradition, or the laws of physics. The kind of dress that made you forget your grandmother’s prayers. It was giving “ruin your life real quick.” And I was ready to be ruined.
We danced. She whined her waist like she was trying to dislocate logic. I kept the drinks coming — smooth ones, fancy ones. Somewhere between the third and fourth round, I remembered: she did say she doesn’t handle alcohol well. Did I stop? Nope. I was deep in my villain arc.
Then it happened.
She leaned in, lips close, and whispered, “Daddy, I can’t wait to feel your arms around me… take me home.”
Immediately, I activated. She was talking spicy and I was fully marinated. We dipped from the club faster than the DJ could mix in Burna Boy.
Now here’s the plot twist — “home,” according to me, was my apartment.
On the way, I made a mistake — the kind men write apology paragraphs for. I called my guy, put the call on speaker like an idiot and said, “Bro, this babe don high... She’s moving mad. Tonight’s in the bag.”
And just like that... the game shifted.
She giggled like a drunk Disney princess and said, “Wait, baby… let’s swing by my place first. I need my toothbrush and a fresh set of panties. I’m spending the whole weekend with youuuu.”
I nearly crashed trying to turn into her estate.
She stepped out of the car like she was floating on temptation. Leaned into my ear, soft lips brushing my skin, and whispered:
“Wait for me, daddy…”
That whisper? That whisper could bankrupt empires.
I waited. Engine humming. Heart racing. Imagination running 4K HD visuals.
She never came back.
Instead, sis went inside, locked the door, took a bubble bath, slipped into pajamas, and slept like Jesus rocked her to bed personally.
By morning, I had 20 unanswered calls, 6 voice notes filled with confusion and desperation, and one single text from her:
“Miss me?”
I blocked her. Everywhere. Immediately.
