Here lies Hector Jobarteh.
The most annoying man on planet earth.
The one human who believed he could get away from any transgression against me by wearing a goofy smile and calling me ridiculous pet names.
The easiest and stupidest way to hurt you was to say I didn't believe you loved me. The pained reaction it caused you was enough to exorcise what ever vindictive spirit possessed me at the moment.
I know you love me puppy, I'm sorry for all the times I did that.
2009, you signed up for a second Facebook account so you could help water my crops on Farmville.
Thanks to your dedicated efforts, I was a very happy farmer.
2010 I asked what you felt the 'L' I put in your address meant and being the most unromantic man in the world you said "ah, isn't it Leprechaun?" That's how you became leprechaun when your mates were getting Boo's.
(I did not realise you noticed I later added the last two L's until I whispered two while tracing the words on your back and you asked about the 3rd one 'my love, my light, my life').
You were too much for me the first years I knew you. Too charismatic, too daring... too infectious! With your fake Yankee accent and slight H factor.
You belonged to everyone and I had a hard time sharing.
Then you pulled that stunt - driving all the way to Uniben from Lagos to say "hi" was a rather suspicious thing to do don't you think?
*What if someone from Hall 2 saw you?!*
Before we had each other, we had adventurous eating in common; although willing to try anything the different races could come up with I did not find it funny you and Michael tricked me into eating that baby rabbit and it's still a "NO" to sushi for me.
Fairytale romance is for the books and I do believe I'm a practical female.
I was happy to mash traits from you and Martin to create Max, the love interest of Tabitha from Tabby's Tabs after I decided you were the type to love and leave but man proposes yeah?
If fate wasn't throwing us together over again after the goodbyes, it was you happening to be in the area and coming to burn my cable whenever my family or friends tried to hook me up with 'husband material 20 yards and above' I can swear you literally growled at that nice gentleman at koko house in Ibadan who was innocently keeping me company.
2013 I specifically told you we were done with whatever it was we were doing. I wasn't that into Bollywood movies to be doing shanana love with you or anyone else for that matter. Oh let's not forget those your 'sisters' that conveniently left pieces of jewellery, hair accessories and etc in places only non-sisters will find them (the look of embarrassment on your face while trying to explain exactly how your sister managed to lose said items in such places? Priceless!)
Among other things, I was leaving the country to do the things in that your book that mysteriously vanished.
You were mature about it and cool with my decision ( you even gave me ideas for the To-Do list), I was quite convinced till you took it upon yourself to personally deliver my doctors note to me in PH and hide an engagement ring in it.
You are so lucky I didn't throw the envelope in the trash like I wanted to else, looking for "something you heard fall on the floor" while you were in the shower with that tiny face towel around your man parts wouldn't have been the only awkward thing about your so called proposal.
I know "are you sure?" wasn't the answer you were expecting but who outright says no to an almost naked man dripping wet anyway? Sides you were distracting.
That's how you crept into my heart and scattered all the plans I had in my head. I wanted a husband and a shared pet, something plastic... A rubber dog maybe or a coconut plant!
You wanted a partner, a handful of children, a garden and real life pets.
We were un-alike yet in sync where it counted.
I am a planner you are a guts guy.
After I'd spent weeks planning something to its tiniest detail, you'd come up with a random idea at the eleventh hour and end up creating a much better plan than I did.
Another annoying trait you had was that no matter how much I provoked you, you'd never raise your voice or engage with me.
You'd walk away and come back later asking me if I've eaten like food was my problem.
While you claim the meals we shared while I was at Apata were what sealed the deal for you, I think we both know minus all the shakara you have to make first, you are a way better cook than I am.
Then there's my mum.
We know she scares you just a little bit (I never got to tell you; she scares everyone but it is more fun watching you squirm and act all prim and proper around her) however, she's the only one I know who would prepare Egusi without vegetables that you would willingly eat and even ask for more.
I did not trust you with money because you weren't very conversant with the word "No" you were always ready to share whatever you had with friends and family - even the bits you kept aside for the rainy day.
While you were careful never to let your generosity cause your beloved Sohna to lack for anything, I often fantasised about hitting you over the head with the spoon I was using to eat the garri we had to drink because Mr. B needed the money we budgeted for a balanced meal more than us.
We were going to grow old together, be that crazy old couple that terrorised the street kids and banged our canes on iron structures just because we could.
You said you'd shun my tradition and get a plot somewhere in Ibadan or yonder so we'd be buried side by side and frolic the afterlife together.
You never mentioned anything about leaving me with the kids you so desired, making me a widow before our 5th wedding anniversary and depriving me of the will to live.
It was always me before you cause we agreed you'd be able to cope better.
People call and ask how I'm doing.
I've lost my freaking better half, how do they imagine I am doing?
The truth is I am not "okay", "fine" or "doing better".
I am angry with a lot of people and at you too Hector.
Royally pissed, enraged... Heartbroken.
I want to write you a strongly worded Whatsapp message, or better still, summon you and give you a serious talking to.
You dying and leaving me is a selfish thing to do.
I hardly sleep these days, if I do, I wake up with a start, reach for my phone, and scroll to my messages.
I am expecting an apology.
I could not decide what to get you for your birthday this year, I thought of something belated or making a false promise to stop replacing the hankies you keep in your pocket with my brightly colored flimsy panties seeing how unprofessional it makes you look when you whip them out in public.
Now, I guess making sure you are buried in one of your favourite suits would do.
Here lies Hector Jobarteh.
Oseyi's perfectly imperfect man.
Father, Husband: Son, Friend.
