Double M Ammanda

Ok. If you are listening to this podcast, then I am sure your relationship status is one of these four. It's either you're single, dating, married, or confused. Something is telling me you're confused, but that's not my problem. My problem is that I feel like, when it comes to relationships, I am too qualified to be single.

I am not trying to blow my trumpet or anything, but I feel like if dating were an exam, I would pass with flying colors. If dating were a food, I would be the balanced diet. Guys, I am intelligent, sexy, handsome, rich enough, and loving. My voice is everything a lady needs to hear. So why am I still single? Why?

They say never count the ladies you dated in secondary school as part of the actual relationships you ever had. But I am going to take an exception here. I can't start my story without talking about Ammanda. She was the first girl I ever liked in my life. Double M Ammanda. This girl opened my eyes and served me the forbidden fruit.

Today's episode is titled Double M Ammanda. This is "Why am I still single?" by CheckEdgar. Edgar doesn't lie. Let's go!

Alright, alright, alright. To really enjoy this podcast, please relax and use headphones. I assure you, it will be better. Since this is the first episode, there are a few things I want to get out of my chest. I have dated before. My last relationship was in 2019. Two years after I graduated from the University of Lagos, UNILAG. Since then, my relationship life has just been a struggle. Dating has suddenly become hard. The girls you like don't like you; the ones you don't like love you a lot. I don't know why life is like that. But it's super annoying.

Why do I want a relationship? Because "social media people" will not let me rest. If they are not teasing you with their partners, they are wearing matching pajamas, or they are exchanging gifts and flowers. I want flowers as well. I want to do the things everyone else is doing. Post a picture of me and my baby on Twitter and say nice words like my view, her view, and our view, as you view from your phone. I want my baby to wake up to voice notes like,

My darling angel, I didn't sleep all night; I was just thinking about you. If I had my way, you wouldn't leave my arms forever. You complete me, my love."

I want to try breakfast in bed and watch her say,

"Eddy, baby, you did not have to do that. Awwn"

All other lovey-lovey things. I just want to pepper some people and make them scream God when?

By the way, you will not believe the things I have tried. I have joined dating apps, gone on blind dates, looked for church girls, joined wild groups, prank people to get babes and tried dating my friend's girlfriend.

I once lied that I knew Davido to get a girl like that, and there are a lot of stupid things I will later reveal in this podcast series. I have been served breakfast, and I have served breakfast, lunch, and dinner to someone's daughter.

When it comes to my type, I ain't got no type. I like all types. I have tried dating different kinds of girls. tall, short, dark-skinned, albinos, identical twins, fat, super fat, extra fat, as thick as custard or Akamu, older, Christians, Muslims, sango worshippers, and even a blind girl. Before you say I am lying, she wasn't really blind, but her eyes were everywhere, so I thought she was blind at some point. She couldn't look into my eyes when we had a serious conversation; one eye was past 3 and the other was 4 minutes after 6. See If you are offended right now, then this is your time to leave. I am going to say a lot of nonsense, so brace yourself, okay?

There is another school of thought that says I am always the issue. Some people say I lack patience, some say I don't know how to search properly, some say my spec is too high, some say I need to understand how a woman's brain operates, some say I should wait for God's timing, some say I lack the technical know-how, and my brother said I need deliverance.

So whether it is a spiritual or physical issue, you guys are the judges. You can always send me an email at edgar@checkedgar.com, leave your comments on my website checkedgar.com, or send me a cute friend's number, not the ugly one that likes money but the cute one that you think would fit me perfectly. You could also drop your number, date me, and get married so I can end the podcast in quick time. Absolutely, the podcast ends the day I get married.

Okay, I feel I have said too much about nothing. Let's get into the first story, ladies and gentlemen. Double M Ammanda.

By the way, let's take a moment to thank our sponsor for today's episode, T&E Gifts. The ultimate gift shop to get affordable and valuable gifts for those you love in Nigeria. Visit www.tande.com or tande on Instagram today to get your mind blown away. Now back to "why am I still single?".

Also, for those sending emails on how they can support me or the podcast, kindly subscribe to my YouTube channel, CheckEdgar, or visit the website www.checkedgar.com daily for blogs, videos, and other entertaining content. You can also donate on the website or join my Patreon if you like me that much. Everything is on my website.

The first story starts with the first girl I ever liked in my life. I was in secondary school, SS2, in the year 2000 and something. Before I met this girl, all I ever cared about was reading and passing my WAEC examinations when I got to SS3. My mother would always tell me that "the house won't contain us if I don't pass my WAEC examination.". By the way, our house was literally small, so I knew she was not joking. She meant it.

Back then, in secondary school, I was an average student, out of 31 students, my position was like 16th, 17th. Somewhere in the middle.

While in school, I used to sit at the back of the class for two important reasons. One, so that teachers won't easily spot me and call me to answer questions, because they usually only call those who would never get the answer to their questions to answer their questions. So me and my guys, we liked the back seat.

The second reason was that when I got home and showed my parents my report card from school, I had a solid reason to defend myself on why I came 16th, 17th, or probably 20th in class. My defense was that I sat at the back and couldn't see or hear the teachers properly, and for some reason, it always worked. My mom would always complain to me about my sitting position in school, but she would never come to school to complain. Every talk always ends with the rhetorical question every dumb child has heard. "The people that came first, do they have two? You already know the rest.

My secondary school was a very crazy school, somewhere in Ibadan, Oyo State. I think that is part of the school's problem. All the ladies were forced to wear the same hairstyle, so they all looked alike, and as for the boys, you dare not have hair on your head; your head had to reflect the sun; that's the only way the school authorities were certain that book would enter your brain. Also, our uniforms were massive. The shirt was so big that three or four people could fit in properly, and as for the trousers, let's not talk about that; my dad mistakenly thought my trousers were his one time when I washed them. It was that big.

Only the bad guys had fit uniforms in school, and they always got flogged every Friday for slim-fitting their clothes. I did not have the liver to chop cain; before you flog me, rivers will flow from my eyes. I couldn't chop cain to save my life. The only cain I liked back then was sugarcane. I would cry before you even started; it was that bad. There was this one time I acted like I fainted in JSS2 when I was flogged by my math teacher Mr Ogbu, only for me to actually faint when they kept flogging me. It took another teacher to resurrect me with flogging. God punish that man.

Dating in secondary school was weird. The girls liked three types of boys, the smart & rich, the fast, and lastly, the bad guys.

I was not smart; Me, I am rich, but my father was not that rich. Speaking of speed, my skinny legs could only run into trouble, and I did not even look like a bad guy. Sadly, I looked more like a girl. It was that bad; even a blind girl would not date me in her dream. I wasn't ugly oh, but I was not the dream guy every girl wanted. I was just there and I am still here. Waiting for someone to date me.

Girls in my class had ranks, the finest girls were either taken by senior boys or by the best guy in class. So the average boy had to struggle for the girls that were left. As for the ugly and dumb boys, the closest thing to dating was when they wrote it in their notebooks, the date of the week. No jokes! If you were ugly and dumb in my school, you would never have a girlfriend. Never!

Now let me tell you about the Ammanda. I was in class like every other student at the back; we were having biology when the school principal brought this young lady and her mom to our class. She was fine. She wasn't in uniform, so she looked fresh. Her smile made your mouth open wide, and she had dimples. The girl was about my height and skin color. Her sandals and hair had colors like police sirens. It was beautiful. Everything about her made sense except her angry mother. The women kept complaining about everything. She complained about the classroom size, about dust, and about her books. Everything was getting the woman upset. We were told that Ammanda was going to be joining us and that she was a transfer student from the US.

Immediately I heard US, I got interested, not just me but everybody. She introduced herself and told us her name, Ammanda Akwa. Her mom, however, informed us that her first name had two Ms. Her mother said Ammanda lived most of her life in the US, but her name is with two Ms because she is Igbo. I thought that it was cute. It was paining me that my name didn't have two letters; Like two Ds or As. EDDGAAR.

A few minutes later, it was breaktime, her mother had left, and I feared that an intelligent individual would steal my shot if I did not shoot this while it was still hot. By the way, my voice wasn't this deep, it was tiny. How I got a deep voice should be another podcast on its own.

Ammanda was sitting in front, writing her name on her new textbooks, with one Oyinbo looking pen like this. I debated within me for a while and then I walked up to her I said,

"Hi," she said "Hi", I said "my name is Edgar", she said "Hi", I said Hi again, and she said Hi again as well. It was weird. We looked at ourselves for like 10 seconds without saying anything. Then I said "I like your pen" and then I heard her say her first few words, "Do you want one?"

It was like the ground should open and swallow me, I was smiling like a fool. It sounded like she said, "Do you like me?". After a while, I said, "Yes, to the pen.

She went straight to her bag and gave me one. It was green, I remember. It felt special until she gave three other coloured pens to three other people in my class, but that's not the point; she gave it to me first. By the way, the pen never worked, but like I said, that's not the point. She gave it to me first and only mine was green.

In dating, there is something we call a green light. A green light is the first sign a lady makes to show you she could be interested. The green pen was the green light. I knew I had to make my intentions known and better understood. At that point, she was more important than anything else, even my WAEC.

So after school, just before her mom came around, I walked up to her again, and I said hi, She said hi again, I knew I had to make her speak some more, so I said, Err, I miss going to the US. You needed to see her face, she was so excited to hear that. Now the truth is, at the time, I had never even been to Abuja, talkless of the US, but I have watched a lot of movies, and if you give me a second to speak, fam, you go hear my accent, fam.

She was like, Wow, that's lovely, Where did you stay in the US? It was at this moment that I knew I messed up. So here is a tip: if you're going to lie, make sure you gather enough information before you start. I was close to saying UK, I said New York, then she said, "oh that's lovely. I stayed in New York too. Where did you stay in New York?

Since I didn't have a clue, I decided to switch things up. I said, "I don't believe you, can you tell me where you stayed?" She said she stayed in the Queens, and then, as a sharp guyman I said I stayed in the Kings.

Yes, I messed up, but I felt if there was a queen somewhere, then there should definitely be a king, you know. Like, who did the Queen marry?

She laughed really hard, She then told me the four words I would never forget in my life for so many reasons, She laughed and said, "YOU'RE A FUNNY GUY"

That moment, right there, was when I cracked a new code about dating and opened the door for the ugly and poor guys in my school. You might not be rich and smart, you might not be fast, and you might not be the baddest guy in school, but if you're funny you stand a chance to date any girl you like.

Soon after, her mom came around, and Ammanda left. For the first time, it felt like I was first in class. I was like finally "I don get babe". My purpose in school was found. You know good things come to those who wait. Look at me, she isnt from Kogi or Kaduna but from the U.S., Igbotic U.S. Double M Ammanda.

In other news, so many guys in my class had gone to her to say hi, but the best they got was a pen. Not even a green pen. Maybe blue, red, or yellow, but she didn't say "You're a funny guy" to any of them. It was just me.

When I got home that day, I couldn't eat. The scenario was on repeat in my head. You're a funny guy, You're a funny guy. I didn't care about my assignment, all I wanted to do was practice the next joke to tell Ammanda. I wanted her to say this time, "You are a very funny guy," and maybe "I like funny guys" after that.

So I started writing jokes. I bought a new notebook just for jokes. At the time I wrote down the basketmouth, "there are two things involved" joke as a backup if all my original jokes failed. At the time, I was new to YouTube. I would watch a night of a thousand laughs and pick funny ideas from it.

School became very interesting, I started going to school early just to see Ammanda and her mom come down from their vehicle. I even changed my seat, you will not believe I started sitting right behind her, second roll.

Ammanda's smile was everything. She wasn't even hard to convince, small thing she don laugh. There was one time I cracked a joke about my parents, and she couldn't stop laughing. It was bad. Have you ever laughed till the point where you start crying and then cough, only to laugh again? Ammanda would laugh, especially when I insulted my father. And I enjoyed insulting my father, just to make her laugh.

Until one day, she asked me what I would love to be when I got older. Now, Initially I wanted to be an engineer growing up, but after failing junior WAEC, the school changed my engine and moved me to art, so my career changed to law. I wanted to be a lawyer. Every art student wanted to be a lawyer at the time; only the dumb and ugly ones chose music, fine arts, cooking, or fashion design. But most people wanted to be lawyers. So I told Ammanda I wanted to be a lawyer.

The next thing she said was, "naaa it wouldn't fit you, you should be a comedian." She started laughing.

I didn't think it was funny because, then, comedians were broke, poor, and ugly. Just browse on Basketmouth, bovi or I go dye's old pictures. You would be amazed.

But when you're in love, nothing simple upsets you. So I decided to fake a laugh too, so that it would look like I was cool with that.

I asked Ammanda, What about you? You would not believe it.

She said she wants to be a police officer. Her mom is a police officer, and it was her dream to reform the police force. It was like my ear was paining me. No wonder her shoes and hair had siren lights.

You left the U.S of A, to come and change the police force in Nigeria? What a miracle. I remember growing up and playing police and thief, but I have never seen anyone who wants to be a policewoman in my life. Even the women in the police force, how many of them chose to be in the police force?

Anyhow, sha, my love didn't shake, as she is bringing cases, I am judging them. Police and lawyers are first cousins; we can still work together.

We would spend time before the assembly, during break, and after school talking about us, and when I got home, I would write more jokes for Ammanda.

Until one day like that, I was going through her school bag when I saw one pink Oyinbo book. The book looked nice; it had one small padlock. When I asked her about the book, she said it was a diary.

We talked a little about her diary, and then she told me about her first boyfriend in the US. I was interested. She told me his name, but God knows I didn't put it in my memory.

She said a lot about him, he is tall, has broad shoulders, he is brilliant, and has blue eyes. At first, I was like, "ah ha, how come he is everything I am not. Are you using style to send me a message" then she now added, "He is an amazing writer, his poems are so sweet, it was his poem that made me like him.

Ahh, when I heard that, I felt stupid. So the code was even a poem and not a comedy. A whole Edo William Shakespeare like me.

See, every girl has something that gets them. Some are poems, some are chocolates, some are cars, and most are money. Whatever it is, find it and use it. God help you, if you find a car babe, and you're sending her chocolate. God help you.

Back to the story, Ammanda said there was one time he read a poem to her and that it led to her first French kiss in front of the whole class. My stomach started paining me. French kiss because of a poem. At this time, I didn't even know what french kiss was. I had never received an edo or yoruba peck, talkless of French kisses. And you dare not kiss in front of the whole class in my school. Kissing happened in the darkest corners, and it was very short. The finest girls in school then hardly kissed boys on the lips or said "I love you". The closest thing you could get was girls calling you goat or fish, cow. That was how you knew the pair that were dating. But I don't blame them; 80 percent of the guys in my class had swollen lips and big mouths. It looked like if you kissed them for long, they would swallow your tongue. So for their safety, they avoided kissing.

But Ammanda was different; she wasn't like them. After that day, I knew my strategy had to change. I tore up my comedy book and became Edgar Allan Poe Eriakha the poet. The only problem was how to infuse a poem into our discussion. And I wasn't romantic; I knew nothing about romance; she was the first girl I liked. So I asked my friend to help me.

You know, we all have that one friend, who doesn't have any girlfriends or likes anyone but knows everything about dating. I had a friend like that. This guy wanted to be a rapper. So I told him to write me something sweet. Something that would make a lady fall in love, I did not know that the letter would make her fall away. My friend said he would give me one of his top collections. He took some days, and when he was done, he kept it in my book.

I got home that evening, and I read it. To be honest, it was not bad; it felt like the perfect poem for an Oyinbo girl. Nigerian girls would slap you if you tried it, but because of her mentality, I knew things wouldn't be the same.

So this is what the poem read. I may not get the words exactly, but I can remember some parts of them. It started with something like

Love is a big word, they say But the feelings I have for you are older than today Every night, I pray Bla bla bla, you say

Then it had something like

I don't want to talk too much, I don't want to rant But let me be the elastic in your pant.

Now I wasn't going to add that last line, but my guy was like, it would burst her brain. He said every good poem needs to end with a mad line. A brain bursting line.

So I rewrote it in a new piece of paper like four times because of my bad handwriting. The poem had my name and Ammanda's name in it somewhere. I remember that I even forgot to put the second M in her name. It looked too good to write again, so I left it. When it was good to go, I kept it in my biology textbook and went to school the next day.

On that very day, she didn't come to school, so I had to keep it until the next day. I have never protected my biology textbook like this. I didn't want it to land in another girl's hand. This one was special for my Double M Ammanda.

The day I gave Ammanda was special. I walked up to her and asked her to explain something from the biology class. She tried to explain but found it difficult. So I brought my text book, Sharp guy. I gave it to her to open. When she did, she saw the poem but passed it like it wasn't her business. Then I told her to check the paper because I wrote something interesting.

Now, for like a minute she didn't say anything while she was reading, I knew she had finished reading when she laughed at the end. She said it was nice and funny. But for some reason, i wasn't happy, nice to me that time sounded like below average and as for funny she has said that one before.

The next thing she said burst my brain. She said, "Can I keep it? It is really nice. It is the first poem I am getting in Nigeria."

Before unko, if you don't keep it, who will keep it? She smiled again, and she hugged me. I wanted to die. It was at that point that I knew I was making headway. Then she asked if I would write another one? See me nodding like an Agama lizard. What other job do I have? Yes I will plenty.

The love story was great but short because the next day, Ammanda came with her mom as usual, but this time she didn't come to drop Ammanda off; she came to see the principal.

During breaktime, Ammanda, Ammanda's mom, the principal, and Mr Ogbu, the math teacher, entered the class. Everyone got up to greet them. Next, the principal addressed us. He said that someone in our class has committed a sex crime. You needed to see everyone shouting Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus. Even me, I was shouting Jesus. I did not know I would soon go and see him. You see that Mr Ogbu, he gets paid more for flogging than actually teaching math. Once you see him, just know that someone is about to get buried. I did not know that day it was going to be me.

Next thing, the principal brought out my poem. I wanted to die. My name was written on it, so I couldn't lie. He called my name and asked me to come out. I was shy. I came out confused, like I didn't know why they called me out. I don't know who put the mouth of Mr Ogbu in the matter, he was just saying nonsense from the corner.

"At your age, you're sending love letters, Romeo, you don't know common indices and logarithms, but you can compose love letters, Wole Soyinka.

Everybody in the class went AHHH. Like they don't do it too. The principal was disappointed. First he asked me to read the letter to the whole class. I wanted the ground to swallow me.

I took the letter and started reading in fear. The lines that made sense before became very foolish in my eyes. "Love is a big word, " they say" Who are they?

Everyone was holding their laughter. Ammanda wasn't happy, her mom wanted to piece me alive. When I read the last line, even the principal couldn't hold his laughter. I wanted to tell him that I wasn't the one who wrote it. The stupid guy who wrote it was laughing too.

Next, they said I should apologize to Ammanda's mom, she was angry for three reasons. One, I talked about Ammanda's pants; two, I don't look like someone who has a destiny; and three, I didn't spell Ammandas with two Ms in the poem. She hammered that last point ehn. She said if not for the principal, I would have been writing poems in prison.

I sha apologised that I was sorry and that I would never, in my life, write her a poem or disturb her in class. Ammanda's mom wasn't satisfied, she wanted me to promise not to talk to Ammanda again. I promised, using my father's life never to say a word to Ammanda. Ammanda didn't say a word throughout the whole time.

Next was Mr. Ogbu. Mr. Ogbu left the class for a few minutes and came back with two long strokes of cane. His canes had names. I think it was Sodom and Gomorrah. My principal said I should count the words in the poem, that is the number of strokes I would receive before inviting my parents to school. I looked at the boy who wrote that poem, and I knew we had a fight after that day. The words were 32. Mr. Ogbu told me to touch my toes and remain there. You stand up, I start afresh.

Mr. Ogbu flogged the life out of me; it is one reason why I think I can never be fat. This man flogged me like I killed his wife. I thought I was going to die. Everyone was laughing at me. I was running from wall to wall, he was shouting that the students should hold me down like I was a thief, Ammaanda was looking at me like she was a Nigerian policewoman.

Menh, after that day, my love for Ammanda and Oyinbo girls in general died. I and Ammanda didn't speak to each other for, like, two terms. I returned everything she gave me, even the stupid green pen that did not work.

Nobody in my class liked her, by the sound of Ammanda's mom, every knee must bow, and every tongue must confess that they didn't want trouble. That woman beat up a teacher one time for jokingly calling Ammanda "our wife.".

I don't know where Ammanda is now or how she even looks, but she was the first girl I really liked. She was the first person to notice my funny talent. I don't know if she became a policewoman after all these years, but I know she opened my heart to comedy.

SO Why am I still single? Well, Ammanda's mom did not like me and I could not date Ammanda. Life Happened to me.

And that's the end of the first story. I hope you enjoyed it. If you did, then don't forget to subscribe, share this podcast, give me five stars, drop a review, and let me know your thoughts.

Also, if you have ever written a poem to someone you love and you can remember it, send it to me at edgar@checkedgar.com or go to my website at checkedgar.com and send it in the let's talk section.

For those sending emails on how they can support me or the podcast, kindly subscribe to my YouTube channel, CheckEdgar, or visit the website www.checkedgar.com daily for blogs, videos, and other entertaining content. You can also donate on the website or join my Patreon if you like me that much. Everything is on my website.

Remember, the podcast ends the day I get married, so don't forget to tell your beautiful friend that Edgar is single and would love to go on a date with her. If that lady is you, send me a message at edgar@checkedgar.com. Let's talk.