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Confessions Of A Fruit Juice Addict

“Hello, I’m Samuel and I’ve been addicted to fruit juice ever since I learnt how to spell oranges in kindergarten.”

“Hi Samuel,”

Okay, that’s me in rehab. How did this all come about? It all started one day in primary three when I told a girl called Olive that I had a crush on her.

Contrary to what you might expect, Olive was actually thrilled and she took the grass I handed to her for lack of a rose. Only problem, she didn’t come the next day or the next or the next, cos her parents moved out. And thus my tender heart was broken.


How did young Samuel deal with that? The only way he knew how. He went to his mama and mama gave him a glass of homemade orange juice.

She let me drown my sorrows away. Heck, I was so intoxicated; I didn’t know when I fell asleep. But you know what they say; you don’t find answers at the end of the bottle.

But that doesn’t stop anyone from searching. Some of us addicts figure you’ve just got to find the right bottle. It’s why we keep on searching.

And that’s what I did; I kept searching for that right glass of fruit juice. My mother tried limiting my dependency by secretly adding salt to my glasses. But instead of quitting, I just developed an acquired taste for salty, fruit juice.

In other words, there’s no type of fruit juice I would not enjoy. I even take a little tomato juice, once in a while. This addiction has its very obvious effects on my life.

The first one is the name calling. For a long time no one even knew I was Samuel. Everyone thought my name was Orange because some moron in junior secondary decided to be a smartass.

I lost that name when I became popular for blogging, but some daredevils still use it once in a while. And yep, it gets on my nerves every damn time.

Second one is the perennial youth. I’ve not aged a day since sixteen. Think I’m lying, ask anyone around me. Unfortunately, my voice still remains tiny and has refused to acquire the bass I always desired as a teen.

It’s all thanks to the constant hydration. Afterall, ageing is caused by a gradual water loss by cells which shouldn’t lose that much water.

Now of course this youth is both a gift and a curse. The good part, most jailbaits find me incredibly attractive…we’ll leave that there.


But those that envy my youth (that is all those who snub my fruit juice dependency) never fail to crack the same old jokes.

Going out with friends, especially to places like the bar, can be a total pain. Firstly, I’m an alcohol snub. My body is a temple yo.

The thing is juice and alcohol just does not go down well. I tried it once and my tongue was pissed. There’s also the look the bartender gives you when he asks “what would you have?” and you’re like “you guys got any orange juice?”

One barman actually thought I was messing with him because I asked for juice. He was like “you sure you’ve got an ID?” Ah yes, the ID card joke, trust me, it cannot be escaped.

Friends never get tired of that one, especially when you all are sitting at a table and you’re the only one drinking a glass of juice, and then some chick walks over.

You don’t need anyone to tell you you’re toast. First thing she’ll say is “you guys brought junior? How cute.” The amount of girls that have used that as an opening line is appalling.

What my friends don’t realize is that being around me gets them major play. Or maybe they do, come to think of it, they always make a pretty big deal about taking me to the bar.

Even when they know I don’t take alcohol. Those assholes, I’m going to have a word or two with them after posting this.

Speaking about major play, let’s just say I’ve got an alarming number of one-night-stands who believe we should spend more time together. You want to know why?

The thing is, drinking fruit juice makes you seem harmless and harmless means trustworthy and trustworthy means sweet.

Now I understand that these are prime ingredients for getting into the friend zone but when you combine these qualities with over confidence, which I happen to be blessed with, the sky is the limit, seriously.  

Drinking fruit juice in a bar creates the perfect openers. One time I went to hit on some chick and she was like “shouldn’t you pick out minors your own age? I could get arrested for this.” Killer right?

But all that sugar from the juice puts my brain into overdrive. Wit is just a by-product. I think I said something like “nah, I only go for MILFS.” And she was like “are you calling me old?” I was like “maybe, are you calling me underage?” That sparked off one of the most interesting conversations I’ve ever had.


Fruit juice addiction also creates what I call, perennial happiness. It’s not happiness per se; it’s just me being hyperactive, thanks to all that sugar.

Have you ever had the misfortune of meeting those annoying freaks who just seem to be cheerful, even on weepy, rainy, days? Yep, they’re infuriating. I’m infuriating.

You want to know the perks of being infuriating? You always get your way. People just want you to get off their case, including your boss. It’s why SpongeBob and Mr Crabs get along so well.


Now on the downside, fruit juice addiction is just like every other addiction. You’ve got to know your limit. I take an average of five glasses a day. Anything more than that and I’ll purge.

Purging is a state of severe bowel discomfort that comes on an individual at the worst possible moment the sufferer can think of. Symptoms include flared nostrils, dilated pupils, heavy breathing, obvious fidgeting and profuse sweating.

I’ve suffered purging several times. But two instances always come to mind. One was after bringing a date home (I cannot begin to describe how embarrassing that was).

Second was on a bus. Terrible, just freaking terrible. Being addicted to fruit juice also means your teeth would feel pain anytime you suck in air and you’ve got to visit the dentist regularly.

My dentist and I have regular chats on whatsapp. We’ve bonded over time. Now, a friend of mine gave me a link to an article which is dedicated to discouraging all lovers of fruit juice.

I’ve got to admit, the article is pretty damn disturbing. It’s made me question my ways. It’s why I know now that, I don’t just love the juice, I’m addicted.

Because even with the compelling points, the article listed out, I don’t see myself quitting any time soon. You know what they say, you’ve gotta die of something.

For me, fruit juice doesn’t seem so bad; I mean compared to Snoop Dogg and Wiz Khalifa who have a weakness for weed. For what it’s worth, I’m currently seeking group therapy (rehab).



I’m just Samuel, bony faced, laidback, absentminded Samuel. I don’t like to say much, I try to stay out of trouble. Some might say otherwise but that's some for you. Point is we don’t care, let’s just be chill and have fun. So come by whenever and ask me whatever.  It’s our party now and it won't start until your arrival.

Rise Wiki and and all that it entails, which includes all publications listed under the titles; Life of Gbenga, Queen Celestine's Mistake, Ivan from Hell and all Quirky Articles, is the intellectual property of Samuel Mogbolu. All rights reserved. No part of this site may be reproduced, redistrubuted or sold without the author's express permission.