Dial - Season 2 - Episode 94

Episode 4 years ago

Dial - Season 2 - Episode 94

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And then there was the issue of the Dial List containing the dial-listed.

I sat behind my MacBook and looked at that list, and I had never been so ashamed of myself. I couldn’t believe that there had been a time where this list had been the one most-important aspect of my life, filling it without scruples and the least guilty conscience.

My eyes roved down that list…forty-six women.
Women who had not meant anything to me, except perhaps the last two, Akos and Dede, whose association with me had been the pivotal fulcrum that had eventually brought a certain Holy Man into my life, and ended with me looking at the same list with a mixture of shame, remorse and sheer helplessness.
There were some women on that list that I had not seen for a considerable length of time. I knew of three – including my own grandmother and Akos – who were dead. There were some I had continued to see, and there were some I had just made love to and discarded. There were some I knew had been emotionally wrecked by the way I had dumped them.

I knew, without a shred of doubt, that there were women on that list that had nothing but sheer hatred for me, hatred that had festered and become cancerous, as destructive as it was potent.

So I selected the list without the title, pasted it on a new word document page, and then I printed it out. I then went to my desktop, selected the HONEYZ folder that contained the Dial List, and then I deleted it.

I deleted it from the recycle bin too, and then I sat down with the hardcopy and my phone. Slowly, I put an ‘x’ against the names of those who were dead, and ticked off those who were alive and whose numbers I still had.
And then my quest for redemption began.
As I searched fervently for my love, Abena Adobea, I personally called on the women on that sheet of paper, those that I could locate. It was a journey that was marked mostly by pain as I saw, from a different perspective, the lives I had touched in such negative ways.
To me they had just been pawns, embodiments of flesh that were dispensable and useless. I had lied my way to their hearts, flaunting my good looks and money, and dangling the irresistible bait of a humble, kind and wealthy bachelor in front of their hearts. Most of them had thought they had met that dream man, the man that had it all and yet loved them and no one else.

But, as soon as I had slaked my thirst off their bodies, they had ceased to matter, and had just become names, pictures and videos on my list.

However, approaching them from a different perspective, one of the repented sinner, I saw the results of my horrible achievements, and I was sickened at this animal that I had once been.

To some of them, asking for their forgiveness and admitting my wrongs had been the soothing balm that healed the raw pain in their hearts. Some admitted to horrible things they had planned for me, horrible prayers they had heaped on me, and some even admitted to consulting powerful fetishes just to do terrible things to me.

Some took my offer of money and request for forgiveness. And some refused the money, but cried and forgave me. There were hugs, and there were tears, and some laughter.
And then there was the other group of women that simply refused to even speak to me. They were the ones who were so hurt, so bitter, with such rancid hatred that the sight of me corroded their very souls.

They were the ones that made me spend sleepless nights.

One of them, 14. AMELIA OF KOKOMLEMLE, Head of an economic management team of a non-governmental firm, was told a visitor was waiting for her at the Visitors’ Lounge.
She came in, looking so glorious and wonderful, and then when she saw me she went berserk! She screamed, and began picking up objects in the room and throwing them at me.

The lady was so out of control that she ripped off the receptionist’s laptop and began banging it down on top of my head as if she wanted to splatter my brains on the wall. In the end her seniors had to hold her. Each time I opened my mouth to speak she just screamed shrilly and tried to get free from them and gouge out my eyes. In the end, I was told to leave, and I left, shouting ‘Amy, I’m sorry, please forgive me’ as she screamed in a demented way at me.
Amelia…