When men were boys – Chapter 1: Letter to a damsel

By Spencer Briggs
Twitter: @spensabriggs

Back in the day, when men were boys before the advent of mobile telephony, way before the internet, a time before WhatsApp, Facebook, Twitter, Telegram and other social media apps. Letters were the only way to express your unflinching and undying love for a girl you admired. Boys scoured dictionaries to find ‘big’ words just to impress that damsel, then words like ‘doxology’ reigned supreme.

Recently I came across a letter on social media – a WhatsApp group – that cracked me up, apparently different versions of this letter exists in cyberspace.

The original author remains unknown but thanks a million to whoever it is for bringing back the memories of the good ol’ days. Have fun reading it:

Government College
Chindit Barracks
P. O. Box 2109
Zaria, Kaduna State
8th June, 1991

Dear Cece Nina,

Time and ability plus double capacity has forced my pen to dance automatically on this benedicted sheet of paper. I hope you’re swimming in the wonderful pool of Mr Health there. I am also perambulating in the cool breeze of wellness here.

Sweetie pie, the reason why this miraculous thing is happening is because, honey, I love you spontaneously, and as I stand horizontally parallel to the wall and vertically perpendicular to the ground now, I only think of you, since you are a fantastic and fabulous girl put together as fantabulous. I implore you to decipher my anthem of love oozing out from the innermost pendulum of my thoraxial cavity.

Darling, please stop haranguing with the feelings in my heart because I love you more than a snake loves rat.

To me each day I start by dreaming of you. Each time I see you my metabolism suddenly halts and my peristalsis goes in reverse gear. My medulla oblongata also ceases functioning.

Crazy, crazy, crazy you may say but this is verily veritable. If only you knew what is going on in my encephalon you would prostrate. That’s why I need to see you vis a vis soon for a better elucidation through tete a tete. No hyperbole & onomatopoeia, simple candidness.

Only you and I are protagonists in this subtle affair. As I cogitate and ruminate over the last episode, I genuflect before the Omnipotent and implore him to let this affair emulsify.

By the way, I was bamboozled, scintillated, exhilarated, and left in a state of prolonged euphoria by the contents of your missive which was quite edifying and exalting. It left my bio-chemistry in a paradise-like equilibrium.

Empirically speaking, I love you chemically… I don’t ever want to see gloom and doom looming over your angelic live portrait. Let my appellation be scribbled across your heart, with indelible ink. If any boy tries to ask for your companionship, tell him that you are leased and caveated.

I think I have to pen off here, because I still haven’t finished studying electrolysis polymerization. But before I evaporate, I like to revitalize your memory with those encapsulating lyrics which proclaim you are the sugar in my garri and the only mosquito in my net.

Catch you later. Sleep tight and don’t let those bed bugs bite you because you are too sweet for them. Good bye for now and please send me your picture.

Your slave in love,
Alhassan Wakdok
Aka Rector of the Love Academy

These letters were not merely written they were handcrafted. If the sender’s handwriting was awful, he would get his friend or a junior student with a beautiful handwriting to write it on an attractive writing pad sprayed with perfume for added effect – we really did that? – Those were the days.

If you think this is humorous, well most of the time it worked and the girls were swept off their feet. You will see them in their hostels clutching beautifully designed envelopes.

Imagine the response when a reply comes from the pretty maiden with a picture of herself – boy!

 

Disclaimer
Names, characters, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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