Revolt

7. Art Of Criteria

NB: Unhealthy criteria that encompasses only vain, materialistic and superficial things, don’t apply here.

Anjola reclined on her desk chair, and yawned—stretching out her hands to its full length, so the stiffness in her joints cracked and came loose. It was Saturday morning, and she had just completed a light breakfast of mashed potatoes and scrambled eggs, whilst surfing through the net and reading up on a particular topic, that had been quite burdensome lately.

The article she had just finished reading on her tablet, was titled The Art of Criteria, and it delved deep into the huge ocean of controversy, surrounding the grounds of type-building for potential sexual partners. It was no news around the world, that many folks had found themselves prey to the vice of craving for a person, that didn’t fit into their prerequisite. And there was a mystery behind it, that no one could fully comprehend or fathom.

The article—written by a proclaimed relationship expert—stated explicitly, that people nurture feelings for people, who don’t qualify for their criteria because of a huge variety of reasons, ranging from a thirst for something refreshing or liberating, to the thrill of experiencing something daring and adventurous. And most times, said feelings eventually wear off but one could never truly know, until they tested the turf by initiating an intimate relationship, with said person. The final inference she drew was that, if the feelings withstood the hurricane of unveiling the person’s true nature and its downsides, then it’s genuine. If otherwise, it’s nothing but an infatuation that’s of course short lived.

Anjola assessed the message in her head, all over and over again like a forensics expert at a crime scene and couldn’t arrive at a conclusion, other than the fact that it was right. It all made sense, why she was attracted to Lekan and not Delano. Unlike the former, the latter fit her criteria. Handsome, smart, thoughtful, emotionally stable and well natured—yet all these, weren’t enough to heat up feelings in her. It was Lekan, the juvenile, playboy whose traits she found winsome. It was this conundrum, that triggered her scouring spree all over the net, to source for information that addressed her dilemma and now, she had made inroads and had knew where to go from her current location.

The article advised to get closer to the person in question, and if said feelings still withstood the test of time and reality, then it was legitimate and to be taken seriously. The thought alone roused tingly sensations, within and outside her body.

For years, she had put a staggering amount of distance between herself and Lekan, for her own sake because she knew of his heart breaking expedition, and now—she was being advised to do away with said distance, and close the gap between them? While the basis of the advice was concrete, it didn’t dismiss the fact that it was a hazardous thing to do. It could be likened to the action of manually disarming a radioactive bomb, emitting toxic radiation. One had to get closer and risk exposure, just to prevent the bomb from detonating.

Anjola sighed for a final time, and cleared out her empty plate and utensils on the table. After sinking into the plush, cushion of her living room three-seater—she retrieved her phone, from the nearest stool by the base of the chair and dialed Lekan’s number.

If they were to get closer, a framework had to be laid in some sense, and she wasn’t exactly relishing the idea of building said, foundation face-to-face. Not that she detested spending time with him. Rather, it was quite the opposite. She didn’t want to lose her head, in the usual dizzying ecstasy characterized by his invigorating company. Perhaps, she could brew a little drop of elixir that would grant her immunity to his charm and wit.

“Hey, Lekan. It’s Anjola.” There was a brief pause that ensued after he picked his line, which portended the fact that he was surprised she’d call him. It was expected, because in all the times they had known each other—she had never called him. But then the silence began to stretch longer than three seconds, and she began to wonder if there was anyone on the other end of the line at all. “Lekan? Are you there? Why aren’t you talking?”