There could be blood...

We may meet them at a house party, a gathering of mutual friends; sometimes in a bar where the music is too loud for speaking. Sometimes from twitter, occasionally at a funeral – where the grief is almost tangible – and every now and then at a wedding. If we look at the largest possible picture, the broadest possible view, we must admit that it matters not how we meet them, only that we do.

Two people arrive at a crowded event, drinks at Lagos' most popping bar. It could be any number of things, an accent, a pair of bizarrely patterned trousers, a shared affinity for a good martini- shaken not stirred. Who knows the million billion things that could inspire two people to look each other in the eye and see the glimmer of a kindred spirit?

More often than not, it happens after the sun has set. It is easy to understand why. Only then does Lagos not seem like the thief of dreams. Even if it still remains the destroyer of all legitimate passions, then it is at the very least not entirely hideous after sunset. The potholes look like art installations, each with the significance of a museum. 

It is the suggestion of thrills unknown. There's a look, a smile, a smell... Some vague impression that leads to that first hello. Most of the words that follow put great emphasis on specific questions – “What’s your name?” “What do you do?” “Where did you go to school?” “What are your top 5 films?” Their sum is the answer to the one question neither of you can answer – “Who are you?” 

You being in your twenties haven't the faintest idea. You're only just learning that you'll never truly know. So we do our best to piece it together, till there is at least the vague picture of a person. It will become clearer in time. 

Will the glimmer of something turn into something more? It depends, and it will continue to depend. Sometimes the spark doesn’t quite catch that way. The initial excitement could give way to absolute loathing, casual indifference, public declarations of mutual affection without much private conversation. And it could become something much more than you intended. There could be blood, the recognition of a similar soul in veins that aren’t your own. 

If there is blood, you will be as one. The things about the city that grate – its assault rifle wielding policemen, its high on lizard shit thugs – lose their edge. The horrifying, the disgusting, and the annoying become the fuel of bleak laughter.

You will meet many, sometimes on the beach, occasionally at the gym, ever so often at dinner. Most of them won’t see you to the brink of infinity or the beginning of forever, through no fault of theirs, only because not everything is supposed to last forever. But when there is blood, the recognition of a similar soul in veins that aren't your own, the rest as they say is history.