You see ehn, I told the girls at the bridal shower,
“This wedding? I’m not just showing up. I’m securing a husband. One of the groomsmen must fall for me. And by fall, I don’t mean like me but I mean love me!”
Laughter filled the room as I did a slow spin, tossed imaginary gele, and added,
“My dance steps go speak in tongues.”
Fast forward to Saturday,
Wedding day.
Asoebi slayed.
My face was beat to perfection. My gele? It sat like it had PhD in confidence.
Then came the dance parade.
Each bridesmaid was paired with a groomsman.
And the moment I saw my own pair, Bode; tall, brown-skinned, confident, and moving like Burna Boy’s cousin. I knew prophecy had come to pass.
The DJ dropped the beat.
The crowd screamed.
And our names echoed like it was destiny:
“CYNTHIA AND BODE!”
As we stepped out, I whispered to my girls:
“Watch me collect ring through vibes and dance.”
But no one told me Bode was an actual dancer.
Like, real dancer.
Brother was twisting waist, doing legwork, moonwalk, and even Azonto revival.
And me? I panicked.
So I brought out my emergency move: ‘Gbese.’
One high leg. One quick turn.
The world spun.
And I fell.
Flat.
Like Jesus at the foot of the cross.
Lashes flew left. Earrings right.
One of my gele pins pierced my shoulder.
And Bode? This so-called “man of my dreams”?
He pointed.
He. Laughed.
He even bent and held his stomach as he laughed harder.
From the crowd I heard:
“Omo, she wan secure husband but na the floor secure her!”
But then…
Out of nowhere, Philip, the bearded, quiet groomsman with a calm smile stepped out from the lineup.
He rushed to me, gently helped me up, and whispered,
“Don’t worry. Even stars fall. But they still shine.”
I looked into his eyes.
My lashes were gone but my heart fluttered.
He helped me dust my outfit. Held my hand.
And walked me back with pride like I had just won the bride price olympics.
Later that night, he brought me a bottle of malt and said:
“You know… I loved the confidence. But next time, maybe don’t jump that high.”
We both laughed.
That fall didn’t give me Bode…
It gave me Philip.
And as I tell this story now,
He’s the reason my phone rings every morning with:
“Good morning star girl. Still shining?”
Moral of the Story?
Not all falls are failures.
Sometimes, the wrong one needs to laugh… so the right one can lift you.
And yes, TGIF with love stories >>>
Sophy Bless
You see ehn, I told the girls at the bridal shower,
“This wedding? I’m not just showing up. I’m securing a husband. One of the groomsmen must fall for me. And by fall, I don’t mean like me but I mean love me!”
Laughter filled the room as I did a slow spin, tossed imaginary gele, and added,
“My dance steps go speak in tongues.”
Fast forward to Saturday,
Wedding day.
Asoebi slayed.
My face was beat to perfection. My gele? It sat like it had PhD in confidence.
Then came the dance parade.
Each bridesmaid was paired with a groomsman.
And the moment I saw my own pair, Bode; tall, brown-skinned, confident, and moving like Burna Boy’s cousin. I knew prophecy had come to pass.
The DJ dropped the beat.
The crowd screamed.
And our names echoed like it was destiny:
“CYNTHIA AND BODE!”
As we stepped out, I whispered to my girls:
“Watch me collect ring through vibes and dance.”
But no one told me Bode was an actual dancer.
Like, real dancer.
Brother was twisting waist, doing legwork, moonwalk, and even Azonto revival.
And me? I panicked.
So I brought out my emergency move: ‘Gbese.’
One high leg. One quick turn.
The world spun.
And I fell.
Flat.
Like Jesus at the foot of the cross.
Lashes flew left. Earrings right.
One of my gele pins pierced my shoulder.
And Bode? This so-called “man of my dreams”?
He pointed.
He. Laughed.
He even bent and held his stomach as he laughed harder.
From the crowd I heard:
“Omo, she wan secure husband but na the floor secure her!”
But then…
Out of nowhere, Philip, the bearded, quiet groomsman with a calm smile stepped out from the lineup.
He rushed to me, gently helped me up, and whispered,
“Don’t worry. Even stars fall. But they still shine.”
I looked into his eyes.
My lashes were gone but my heart fluttered.
He helped me dust my outfit. Held my hand.
And walked me back with pride like I had just won the bride price olympics.
Later that night, he brought me a bottle of malt and said:
“You know… I loved the confidence. But next time, maybe don’t jump that high.”
We both laughed.
That fall didn’t give me Bode…
It gave me Philip.
And as I tell this story now,
He’s the reason my phone rings every morning with:
“Good morning star girl. Still shining?”
Moral of the Story?
✨ Not all falls are failures.
✨ Sometimes, the wrong one needs to laugh… so the right one can lift you.
✨ And yes, TGIF with love stories >>> 😍
©️ Sophy Bless