Randomly Random

Hello all,
Sorry I've been MIA but I've been more or less brain-dead. Nothing and I do mean NOTHING has come to mind to write about. I could claim Writer's block but this one pass that one sef. I'm thinking more like Life Block. My life is totally uninspiring as a source of material. This is therefore a random review of the nothing that has turned to my life.

• Moms has started again. The usual "When are you gonna get married?" discussion don start again. SMMFH. #isthatwhywearehere? Abeg make una help me beg her to free me jare! The joke is no longer funny. Is it by forced sef? I told her straight up I have no plans whatsoever of ever...EVER getting hitched. That shut her up sharpish. I think she has started prayer and fasting on my head. My coz has even started towing the 'when we go wear your ashebi' cart. My sister and her hubby have started sef. Na wa for poor lil me. It isn't that I don't wanna get hitched one day but must I settle?

I've always wondered why they call it settling down sef. To me settle means to manage or make do with...almost as if better no dey. Then to worsen the matter they added the word DOWN to the equation. It's bad enough you're managing the man...now you're moving DOWN into oblivion not UP to a new plateau. This is just me being random.

• I've come to the opinion that I'm just a pushover! Well only where Boyfriend is concerned. We finally broke up. For all of three weeks. Men! I just don't understand them and really I don't think I wanna anymore *there...I've said it! I finally admit defeat* Life was so much easier when I didn't give a hoot! Now I'm a goddamn owl *hoot hoot* RME. Anyways as I was saying we went to Splitsville NY. He broke up with me *or rather I made him call it quits* over a supposed ultimatum I gave him. I said "Cool. Nice knowing you. Adios." Was really patting self on the back for being a real trooper about it. No tears. No hysterics. Almost shook his hand as I walked him to his car. Fast-forward three weeks. In his new apartment *Don't ask me how I got there*

ME: Ok I have to go.
HIM: Okay. We dilly-dally at the door.
ME: Remember you broke up with me o!
HIM: Nah I didn't.
ME: Yeah you did. (*rewind and repeat 10 times*)
HIM: You know I can't do without you *I later read this same line on the TT #liesmentell...nuff said*
ME: (naked in bed) *X_x*.

So we're back on the merry-go-round and nought has changed. Like really FMFL. I'm so dick whipped I'm like a runaway slave that got caught and got splayed. I need deliverance o! This juju wey BF use hold me suppose don reach to expire sef *now calling NAFDAC*. Oh well let the pain (re-)begin.

 • I got a BB at last and I still don't understand the hype. For me it's just a very expensive way to avoid buying airtime to make calls. Well that is IM- not so -HO.

 • I had a dream about one of the peeps I ff on twitter. I shall never be able to look at him without going beetroot purple. Let's just say if it were ever turned to a skin flick they'd have to think of a whole new rating system cos XXX-rated just wouldn't cut it. Now praying I have an opportunity to get him pissed *aka legless aka shit-faced aka wasted ok you get the picture* and try out the scene concerning furry handcuffs, PVC, shower fixtures and ice-cream. However I am worried about the link between Erectile Dysfunction, premature ejaculation and alcohol so I guess I'll just have to talk the pants off of him :-). Ok too much info don't wanna scare him off in case he *by some fluke of technology* gets to read this.
PS: I've just realised that the BB doesn't recognise the words erectile and ejaculation or maybe it was the combination with the words dysfunction and premature. Hmmm!

• My two friends got hitched. I almost *almost mind you* leaked a tear. Met up with some members of my twit-fam and even recognised one of em by their avatar. Why is this surprising? Her avatar is a booty shot. Very compelling ASSets I must say *o ya feel free to groan. Even I groaned while typing that weak ASS pun :-D X_x there I go again*

• Wayne Rooney allegedly paid a hooker £1200 a night *math cap on* that's like N305,000 a session. Now re-evaluating my career choices *osho free don end from henceforth*. And na who be the maga wey talk say ashi no be work? Did I mention she sold her story for a further £400k *do your own mathematics here the zeros are giving me migraine*

• I've decided that I don't like children. Strange considering I have three of them *well my kids are cool* but really kids suck. It's my uncles and aunts that have me on this tip. Gramps died in June and they're there squabbling about a bunch of BS. Meanwhile the man was bedridden for 8 *yes EIGHT* fucking years and they never came to see him. Even till now none of them have even been to the mortuary to confirm that it is really THEIR father there. If this is the reward for giving life and raising children maybe barrenness isn't such a bum deal! Anyway I jump and pass. My children shall never cause me such grief. However...retirement plan will definitely cover such a contingency. Once again I say...kids suck.

• I'm gonna start divorce procedures soon against a lot of my friends. This random post should serve as notice to them and if they fail to receive the notice...well...tough luck cookie! *as good friends they should be stuck on my blog like a stamp to a letter innit?*

Before you complain about this post been bereft of purpose or point I did tell y'all I had nought to write about so I'm just rambling randomly with no rhyme nor rhythm to this post. And that is that.

DISCLAIMER: All thoughts and opinions expressed here are all mine (crazy as they might seem). All works here are my original work (unless otherwise stated)


13th Sept 2010: 
ADDENDUM:
Some people complained about the use of abbreviations in this writeup so here is a brief translation of the lexicon used.


SMMFH: Shaking my muthafucking head
RME: Rolling my eye(ball)s
X_x: Eyes covered (in shame)
BB: Blackberry
TT: Trending topic; a topic of interest on Twitter
FMFL: Fuck my fucking life
BF: Boyfriend 
IMHO: In my humble opinion
NAFDAC: Please google

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My Week, My Birthday and My Trip to Brazil

I'm back…YAY me!!! Don't act like you didn't miss me all this while. No-one to thrill you and enliven your day, nay … month, in short your total existence with meaningless banter, too much TMI and insane attacks of verbal dysentery. J It makes you a better person sef to admit it…you know that right? You did? You're such a wuss! ROTFL!!! Ok so seriously…I missed you too, I had no-one to give me instant virtual gratification. :-* So onto the business of the day, however I warn you this post was written nearly two weeks ago, but crappy internet has prevented me from posting till now so enjoy your flashback.

Ok this week's been a beehive of activity or rather forming activity I should say. This week was my birthday week…Yay I'm a day closer to being senile…LOL! Anyways it started on a slow note but read for yourself.

Monday 30^th May

Today was a public holiday so I did what people generally do on public holidays…lounged away, slept, woke up, ate and went back to sleep…yeah that kinda day and this time baby girl did not forget to raid the piggy bank *don't you just hate when a public holiday hits and you've forgotten to go to the bank the day before? And to crown it all you ATM card stops working!* so I splurged on my uber-fave feast…pizza! My hips increased by an inch, but what the heck, I'd gladly sacrifice form for food J and anyways I had no hips once. But I digress…as usual!

Tuesday 1^st June

(5:30 A.M) I woke up early cos of work but as usual I bummed around and got in late as usual. The Boyfriend called around 8 AM during a lull in his show to ask me if I wanted to go out after work. My reply…"errmmm...hell yeah!" It's not every day TuFace aka Innocent Idibia aka "Future Baby Daddy" comes to town. The day was uneventful, had the office all to myself, one engineer was in the field and the other was on casual leave, so I just watched Soundcity and CNN and twiddled my toes till close of shop.

(21:00) Evening arrives and I got my sexy on, hot ass dress and I wore makeup…shock…awe…faint…yes I know cardiac inducing news, but I do wear makeup occasionally…birthdays, funerals and anniversaries. So time to leave and I have a chick moment…what to wear? Boyfriend couldn't complain much as I'm usually set long before he arrives, and I end up waiting ages for him. The fact that I was prancing around in a pair of thongs, tights and heels trying on barely there dresses no doubt helped to keep him quite quiet, suffice to say we almost didn't make it to the show.

He did an amazing thing…he asked what I had planned for my birthday. Sounds strange right? But it was amazing to me…in all the years I've known him he's never asked me that question. Usually I get lucky if he even remembers I have one, I mean one year he spent it in the female hostel of a university campus *insert appropriate WTF symbols* :-o. Well it won him major points cos I was already planning his demise in classic Ashanti-style (you've watched her "The Way I Love You" video right? You have…well I'd planned it ju……st like that).

(22:30 – 03:30) Anyways the show was ok though at a point the crowd was close to losing patience and going home, but as 2Baba entered the stage, ladies forgot why they were bitching, and I'm surprised I didn't see panties flying on stage. That said I'd still like to know what type of fool thought it made sense to organize an all night show on a weekday, I won't ask which type of fool attends such a show cos I was there abi? J. Suffice to say I didn't get much sleep, got in by 3.30A.M (and the show was still going hard at that time) and as usual got into the office late.

Wednesday 2^nd June

After fortifying…or is that poisoning…myself with three cups of extra strength black, no sugar, no cream coffee I make it to the office by 10.30 and proceed to fight sleep, with mixed success. Heaven decides to cry as I close for the day and I get soaked to my knickers, and in the way it tends to do stops as soon as I finally get a cab. Just my frikkin' luck. I sometimes believe Murphy was my daddy and made his law to commenorate my birth. Home at last...so I strip down and enjoy our no-light day, thinking I'll shut my eyes for a few before looking for food. Fast forward 6 hours…I wake up and find it's 11.30pm of the same day…so much for food. Now I'm up and sleep has officially left the building. Minutes to midnight the flow of smses begins…Yay it's officially my birthday. And big love to my homeboy Luminus and our Iyawo, Olufunmike (my first blog follower if I recall) for launching the first salvo in B'dy warfare :-*

Thursday, 3^rd June

(4:00 A.M) So I'm still awake. My old man remembers I'm older today and even sends me a birthday text, I reply and so he calls and we talk for twenty minutes or so and agree to meet on his way to work (he lives about 5 minutes from my house and people tend to be shocked when I say I haven't seen him in 3 months. I know it sounds bad…but we get on great…he respects my right to privacy and I his, and really seeing someone everyday isn't really a sign of affection…after all I see my neighbours everyday and can't stand most of them J.

(6.30 A.M) Dad swings by with my birthday goodies. Now in my house we're quite sensible, we don't do gifts…we understand the power of good ol' currency. So for my day he gave me a gorgeous cake and 50Gs *WooHoo danced the electric slide* J…yep Daddy's my kinda guy!!! So I'm set to go to work even though it ain't my day because of the young lady on casual leave, but I get the heads up that there's no need and so I go shopping instead, and splurge on a cute dress and shoes for the day's activities. From there I headed out and went to the Home for the Physically Challenged to spread some of the love I'd been receiving all day long. It was a wonderful feeling seeing the kids there, and at the same time it made me doubly grateful for my family and my life.

(10:30A.M – 22:00) After that I took myself out for a movie and ogled over Jake Gyllenhaal for 90 minutes plus…although Broke-back Mountain kept flashing through my mind during the saliva exchange scenes…please tell me I am not alone…and then I did a solo lunch. That done I headed home and got changed for my movie date with my friends Val, Teni, Naomi (Val and Teni you guys should really get this girl on twitter joh) and DJ Tan (who's also my birthday mate) to watch the premiere of Green Zone…it was an ok film, I had a certain dé ja vu-ish feeling, as if I'd watched the movie before…but then again…it IS Matt Damon! Good enough reason to watch! J It was fun although we did get shushed a few times for talking during the movie. After that I headed down to Boyfriend's office since he was still at work, from there we headed to Protea for a drink and would've gone for the monthly Reggae jam at Liquid but I was spent, so we went home.

I've been praying that the gods would take pity on me and cure me of this verbal diarrhoea that plagues me, and I thought my birthday would be the day I'd be so blessed. Lemme explain what I mean. For some reason I am more or less incapable of keeping quiet about things that are on my mind. I feel it thus I speak it. So I ended up spewing my reservations about how I see us breaking up in the near future if he doesn't step lively. As you must have guessed ours isn't a two month affair…we've been together seven (yes seven…no typo) years and I think that's time enough to make up your mind about the direction you're heading. He says he had needed a little time to clear his head but methinks it's a clear case of "Love me or leave me the FUCK alone"

His birthday present is still pending but he assures me he got me something and it's yet to be delivered. I'm thinking maybe a car? He says no but now I'm obsessing on what it could be, especially since he had to order it and he's not giving me any clues, and trust me I've applied all my feminine charms and cunning (this includes offers of kinky sex in the office and a month worth of lap dances), but alas no dice! So I wait and exercise patience *if you know me well you know this is not one of my virtues* Anyhooo I have told him the gift better come correct and be worthy of the intrigue...otherwise...wo...I'll use whatever it may be and smack him silly with it

Friday 4^th June

(3:00-6:00) …the rest is strictly Too Much TMI. J

(9:00 – til fade) Nothing noteworthy to report for the rest of the day, slept nearly the whole day and watched movies and fooled around on Twitter till 3AM then slept off while watching a movie at around 5.

Saturday 5^th June

The day started as most Sanitation days start…me passed out. Woke up by 9, went online, did a lil laundry little did I know that I'd find myself flat on my back by 4 PM. So around 2 I leave the house to the salon to get my dreads did and suddenly a thought crosses my mind…why not get a wax? So I head to the spa and book an appointment then go back to my usual salon do my hair and get my nails done. While this is going on I begin to question the wisdom of my appointment. Do I really need to put myself through that much pain for beauty's sake? But I've already paid and I've never been known to chicken out on much. 20 minutes later I'm stripped down and have a towel round my chest in a room with five women…did I forget to mention that it wasn't my legs scheduled for the wax? Ehen! I'm moving to Brazil…or at least my bush is.

So here I am...flat on my back with my legs open (not so new) and five people staring at my vagina (very new) with clinical interest. Never has my vagina received such avid and rapt attention since my gynaecologist last peeped. I'd resigned myself to the pain, and lots of it for that matter, but after screaming silently in my mind (ómò…you know your chick too bad, damn too hood to be bawling like a bitch) an accompanying pleasure followed…Yikes!

Is my inner dominatrix becoming a submissive and masochistic in nature? I think not…I still enjoy dishing out pain a tad too much. You doubt it? Oya come let me beat you Rodney King-style just for kicks J.

Sadomasochism aside I do know that I liked the results thereafter, and I know zee Boyfriend did too ;-). Will I do it again? Yes! Will I do it again any time in the immediate future? That remains to be seen.

Sunday 6^th June

New week people… And that folks is the story of my week, my birthday and my trip to Brazil

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My Neighbour’s Wedding

First off this is a highly delayed post, for those of you that follow me on twitter you’ll know I’ve been bitching for over a week that I’ve been unable to access blogger to post nada. And also I spent several tweets expressing my displeasure and dislike for the wedding thingymijig. Well today I’ve gotten lucky and I’m uploading all the junk I had in my trunk-like noggin…and will proceed to systematically inject it into your brain-stream like an intravenous…line by line, post by post. Enjoy…I think!!!
On Saturday 3rd April 2010, I witnessed a union of two bodies as one in the ceremony of holy matrimony. The bride looked stunning and the groom looked bored. Typical of most weddings I have attended, however this wedding was unusual in that the couple had already been married for years and had two kids to show for it, the eldest being five years old and the Little Bride at the ceremony. For me the ceremony was needless, after all by Nigerian law isn’t Traditional marriage as recognized and as valid as all the others? Or is what I learned during all those boring Social Studies classes null and void? Anyway the couple invested no small amount on the ceremony what with hiring of cars, paying for the dresses of the bridesmaids and their hairdos, hiring the hall for the reception, the civil ceremony and the church service. All needless expenses in my book.
A lot of people who’ve been reading my posts for awhile might think me anti-marriage but I’m not, I’m just practical about love, sex and marriage and wonder why the need to spend vast amounts on a one day event.
The money isn’t the only expense, however it is the only one that can be quantified. Time spent on wedding planning is time better spent on other things.
When my sister got hooked in 2003 I had the responsibility of almost single-handedly planning the wedding seeing as Madam and her husband were based in Lagos and the wedding was taking place in Port Harcourt. I almost had a coronary making sure the caterers arrived on time, and that the hairdresser and make-up guy got to the bridal suite on time. The printers in Lagos screwed up last minute with the wedding programmes and I was forced to find a printer to do the job in Port Harcourt in roughly 36 hours, in time for the traditional wedding. As if that wasn’t bad enough…the morning of the wedding the bouquet was MIA and I had to hop a bike and dash to get one, arriving at the venue just as the Bride was scheduled to come down from the car. Dirty and hair unmade I had 5 minutes to beautify, get dressed and mobilize ushers to serve guests because the hotel that we rented the venue from reneged on their promise to provide ushers. And to crown it all I wasn’t even on the wedding program at the end of the day. Let’s just say…if and when I do get married my sister owes me big time.
The whole attitude regarding marriages or should I say weddings is baffling (I’m such a dude when it comes to this…blank stare), why the fuss over a 1-1 ½ hour ceremony? For months…if not years…women hunch over wedding magazines scouring for THE dress, planning and purchasing even before she’s found the man to ‘ball and chain’. Almost from day one of the relationship she’s already started practicing variations of her surname…Mrs Him…Mrs Her-Him etc, and thinking wedding colours, cake designs and ashebi. The groom is totally in the dark…unaware of the trauma he will unleash on himself and his bank book when he gets down on one knee (this is still essential) and says “baby be mine!”
While at the reception venue…where we arrived way too early…sitting in the car whiling away time with my neighbour and her fiancé I started musing and wondered out loud why the need for the fanfare and not just a simple civil ceremony and be done with it. My neighbour was stunned and insisted her own wedding would be a flamboyant extravaganza…I saw her fiancé’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed saliva and mental reconsidered his proposal.
I then asked her was she planning to pay for the carnival called a wedding and she stated that she would contribute (this was said with little or no conviction). This got me marginally excited so I asked at what ratio, she said 60-40, sixty for him, forty for her. I laughed. At which I reminded her that the white wedding was a borrowed culture and therefore if it must be done it should be done properly. The expense of the white wedding and the rehearsal dinner is the responsibility of the bride’s father; the groom has absolutely nothing to do with it. Not a farthing or brass nickel should leave his pocket for the ceremony. All he has to do it rent a tux and enjoy the bachelor’s eve.
She pooh-hoo’ed this and literally put her hands over her ears so as not to hear another word on the topic. If I’d known I wouldn’t have started the discussion because a small battle started when she turned to her fiancé and asked him his opinion on my “registry then home” theory, as can be expected he supported my idea and the temperature in the car dropped to –10°C even with the blazing sun outside. If looks could kill he’d have had a cardiac, the look she gave him was enough to wither his nuts and cause them to drop off…which they did cos the next statement from his mouth was…”whatever you want baby…it’s your day after all” (men are such pussies *shaking my head vigorously*).
Now I have no problems with the fairytale wedding if you can comfortably afford it…emphasis on the words comfortably and afford (I mean…seriously… NO wedding isn’t worth soaking garri for)…but I have a problem with the double standards bit. After all the years of shouting “women’s rights” and “female emancipation” why be a kept woman now, after all it is your wedding day, the man is just a prop in the whole shindig so why don’t you put your money where your mouth is and be a ‘big girl’ and fork out your dough for your ‘dream’ wedding, ni? Why put all the years struggling for equal pay and recognition on the back burner for a fluffy white gown that you’ll most likely toss in a trunk the day after.
Now when (and if) I do get married (I can hear my mother’s shouts of hallelujah already) I’m going to KISS (Keep It Small and Simple)…a civil ceremony on an obscure day of the week with the minimum number of witnesses, then maybe a night out on the town with a few friends and family. If I’m feeling really generous we’ll book a suite in a hotel…you know the type with a massive lounge, open the buffet (sorry it’s a paid bar…y’all can get drunk on your own dime) and mingle. Or I might just do what my friend did. She and her fiancé (now husband) flew from their base in Germany to New York and brought a Justice of Peace to their hotel room, she in a black très sexy cocktail gown and a white orchid in her hair and he in a debonair smoking jacket and dress pants got hitched with no fanfare, and then hopped on the next plane to a tropical location, complete with white sands, coconut trees and blue water, for the honeymoon.
And that’s all folks, me and my rants on weddings et al signing out. That said here’s a quick question for all my single ladies (and guys) what kind of wedding day do you want and who should pay for what?

DISCLAIMER: All thoughts and opinions expressed here are all mine (crazy as they might seem). All works here are my original work (unless otherwise stated)

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Sleeping with a Broken Heart

Hi, as I said I'm really gonna try and post with greater regularity. I'm kinda blank, but a line a day keeps atrophy away, abi? Whether I post what I write is a whole other story!

I'm a music lover as you should all now if you've been doing your homework...i.e reading my rantings, and though I listen to anything that makes sense and has a beat, certain songs reach me for bone. The title of this post should be familiar especially if you like Alicia Keys...even if you don't I'm guessing you should've heard this song.

I'm currently living this song :-( :'( *don't cry for me Argentina...I set myself up for the drop anyways* I'm finally single (well I think I am...see I'm not sure...I stated my case...said my piece and left the rest to my (not so)significant other...and his reply will determine my status) and I've learned that some cliches are rooted in fact. When people say used to say "I can feel my heart breaking" or "My heart hurts" I'd be like..."uh-uh...yeah right, n doh...now moving on!" Alas now I know how possible it is to feel such emotional pain that physically your heart actually aches. It feels like someone put your heart in a vice and squeezed the life outta you! And damn...shit hurts like a muthafucker!

Maybe if I could cry I'd feel better...water therapy I call it! Shed a few tears and cleanse your soul, but unfortunately I can't. My mind's being stubborn on this but I guess I caused it when I told myself I would never waste another tear on Bobo Mi again, now I wanna weep like a baby but no dice. It could be psychological too...crying for me is almost like a burial...I cry, I mourn, I cleanse and then I move on. "Hasta la vista, Sayonara, Adios Papi...so long" with Beyonce singing "to the left" in the background. Thus my not turning on the waterworks is like a stubborn reluctance to let go, holding on to the hope that it isn't really over...maybe? Or maybe I'm just emotionally vacant!

But I ask...how does one just let go? Of 7 years of whatever it was (whether relationship or long-term booty call)? Do you suddenly wake up and it's forgotten? Even if it got to a stage that you were just sick and tired of being sick and tired of the relationship, is saying "goodbye" ever easy? Just cos your brain is sound enough to know that you were on a runaway train to nowhere and jumping is the only option, does it necessarily follow that your heart will follow the wise counsel? Even when you know you deserve better than the status quo, it doesn't make it any easier to leave. The reality is no matter how bad a relationship might be...it has its bright spots. It can't all be bad. I guess it comes to a point you have to weigh the good against the bad and judge if the situation is one worth hanging on to.

Now as I said I'm not sure if I am back on the market...however that said Imma act like I is. I've been told the best way to get over a man is to get under another one (seriously...Gospel truth...I didn't make that one up!).

Dilemma: How do I put myself back on the market? And should I really? I've been offline so long i have absolutely no idea how to log on again! And how do I get over the feeling that I'm cheating on my Boo? Even accepting a drink from another guy that likes makes me feel uber-unfaithful sef!!

Where do I go to meet new men? Church? All the guys there I know are married. The Club? I don't think so! I'm looking for substance not a booty call...and anyways I still have my booty calls in my phone-book if I need a lil' something to break me off (rummaging through chest and dusts off 2005 phone-book).

Work? That so ain't the place...we have 4 guys there, the manager's married, the two engineers don't do nothing it for me...one's even younger than my kid brother, the last is the security guard and I think he's older than my Daddy. That aside sef...the office romance kini rarely ends well and administratively I'm a senior officer...so sexual harassment just jumps to mind :-D. The gym? Not registered and it's mainly women I see there, so unless I wanna get my lesbian fantasy going on...the gym's out!

My existing social circle maybe? Even that's a no-go area in some ways. If I dug the guys I know, we'd be hitting it already and not just being friends abi? There had to be a reason we settled as friends, and with some we've already tried the "more than friends" route and in a bid to preserve individual sanity called it quits before it became lyrics of a Snoop song i.e "murder was the case that they gave me."

I'm at a loss really! Maybe I'll finally buy me that vibrator for my birthday and say "fuck you very much" and be done with men, and finally put an end to sleeping with a broken heart!

Night-time!
And an empty bed!
Heartbeat raps a discordant rhyme
Upon this altar where spirits wed

Pillow held tight
Tears threatened,
ever ready to take flight.
Tension heightened

Chest contracts
Inside..the pain
Chest expands
No tears...but the fallen rain!

Again arrives the night-time!
Once more...an empty bed!
Clock strikes the hour, 3 AM chime!
Brokenhearted,
no more wed...
my spirit bled...
upon this ice-cold bed

DISCLAIMER: All thoughts and opinions expressed here are all mine (crazy as they might seem). All works here are my original work (unless otherwise stated)

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Me? Getting Married?...Hell No!

I've noticed that more and more young women seems to be ruling out marriage as an option. I mean totally. Not "I might not" but complete and utter, unequivocably 'never in a month of Sundays' "I will not!"...and the kicker? They're all straight (well almost). I start to ask myself what's gone wrong. Who or what is to blame for the prevailing reluctance to ride all the way to the last bus stop of relationships? Could it simply be a matter of age? There is something known as the audacity of youth, the prevalent belief of the young of age in their invincibility and seemingly demi god-like infallibility, their total faith in no-one else but self. Age and time usually cures one of that folly and when the biological clock and pressure from friends, family and society in general a mad dash ensues to find the ideal (and not so ideal) husband before the last viable egg shrivels up and the words Hot flash, night sweats, oesteoporosis, HRT and vaginal atrophy form the mainstay of your lexicon.
Is it the dearth of suitable companions? Or is it the sour taste of bitter pills swallowed that still linger? Is it the placing the weight of lofty and insurmountable expections on the shoulders of mortal men (expectations of such proportions as to render even Atlas and Hercules combined powerless and doomed to failure) the cause? Do these young women have not so SMART projections and expectations of their imagined spouse. Do they seek fantasy where commonsense should prevail?
Perhaps it is simply lack of faith in the institution of marriage! This seems like a possible answer. Considering that global statistics show that you have more odds of being a divorcee than remaining married, if you don't have the nerves of steel that favor a game of craps or roulette to which skill is not a major consideration but pure sheer dumb luck (or plain old loaded dice), you might be inclined to avoid a foray into the blood drenched battlefield called marriage a.k.a community property. Again it might not be the fear of divorce or failure but the fear of marriage itself. Our parents are to blame in part here. Our parents' or guardians' marriage is the only one we have front row seats for (asides our own...if ever) and more or less makes or breaks our conceptualization of the word marriage. We are our parents' children and they our primary handbook and road map on matters of the ways of the world. Even as we age and mature and break the bounds of parental influence, our actions and decisions are based consciously and unconsciously, directly and indirectly on our level of disdain for our parentage. We either act to be...or be nothing like our parents. That said the quality of the marriages you are privy to information about taint or color your notions on the prospect. Again our culture and its unspoken endorsement of male infidelity does not prevail upon women to be bound so tightly to men, seeing as he has a virtual carte blanche to be of mischievous intent.
But again really what is the need for marriage? Isn't marriage really the deciding of two people to be emotionally connected and showin the world the strength of their conviction in each other? So why the ceremony? Isn't cohabiting much the same thing? Two people deciding to couple their lives and their assets without fanfare? At least abroad I know that cohabiting partners have certain legal protections similar to those enjoyed by legally married partners, and common law espousal is recognized. Is it wrong to seek commitment but not the attendent jewelry? Or is it a case of eating one's cake and still trying to have it?
Or are the only cards in the deck really just marriage or eternal bachelor(ette)?
Please take note that these are mere musings on my part, the musings of a much demented and jaded mind no doubt, that still hasn't made up it's mind on acquiring a Mrs. status, but I'd like to know your take on this muse.

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Sex, Lies and Vodka Pt. 1

(Excerpt from a story)
10.30pm and I'm stuck in traffic! I shouldn't be where I am! I should be rounding up my 8pm date with my boyfriend and maybe getting a little brown sugar for dessert. But no...I'm stuck behind a belching cancer box that V. O. I hasn't seen and worse of all my cellphone's died on me, so I'm unable to call to cancel our date. My boss decides, at the last minute...as usual...on a friday (lousy day for traffic) to send me off to see a client in Eleme of all places. I estimate another 2 hours of limited movement and turn off the radio and select 'The Man That Can't Be Moved' by The Script to listen to, and cue 'Dark Horse' by Nickelback to follow, the beats keep me company and match my mood.
Fast forward 3hrs, I finally drive into my compound, the yard appears empty...seems my neighbors took advantage of the weekend and went to the club. Musa, the security guard, gives me a note. Michael, my very ticked off boyfriend of 5 years, apparantly spent an hour waiting for me at home after an hour long wait for me when I didn't show at the restaurant. It's seems my cell packin up was a mixed blessing. At least that way I didn't have to hear him bitch about me being late for the duration of the date. Well thank God for small mercies.
The whole relationship was starting to get a little bit stifling...what with his everyday complaints about my job, my career drive, my time and my friends. I don't know what he wants really, if I were a woman who sat on my bootylicious booty all day and waited for him to come buy me sanitary pads he'd be on my case 24/7 that is if he hadn't left me already. Unfortunately or fortunately i ain't that kinda chick. I like my great job, great car, apartment, wardrobe and generally my great life.
Anyway I open the door, kick off my shoes and head for the kitchen. A half bottle of chilled red wine beckons me. Glass filled and bottle in hand I head to the bedroom sipping as I go. The lights are dimmed and Freddy Jackson serenading me in the background, i slowly start undressing, divesting myself of my suit jacket, rumpled white shirt and kicking off my short skirt. Sitting on the bed I slide off my sheer stockings one leg at a time. I head to the bathroom and start the process of filling the tub as I seriously need the soothing heat of a bubble bath. As the tub fills at an agonizingly slow rate I head back to the room dancing to the slow beats. I've just taken off my barely there silk and lace contraption that Victoria's Secrets called a bra when the doorbell buzzes. I pray wistfully that whoever it is will just go away, but the buzzing continues. Grabbing a robe off the hanger on the back of the door I head for the front door angrily...ready to rip the person a new one...! I mean who the HELL is that at 2AM? Through the peep hole I see Jamie my friend suitcase in hand.
"J! What the hell are you doing here at this time...with a suitcase no less". She looks at me and starts sobbing. "Mel...Justin hit me again," eyes bloodshot and swollen "he accused me of flirting with a guy at the club and when we got home he hit me! I left...I can't take his insecurity and jealousy anymore!" By now we'd gotten to the parlour and she collapses on the sofa weeping uncontrollably. Now although I make all the right noises and say all the right things I have no sympathy for Jamie whatsoever. Justin and I are like 1 and 10 or better yet parallel lines. He's an ass! This wouldn't be the first and not likely be the last time he'd hit her and she left. At least once in three months my pad becomes a shelter for battered women thanks to the two Js. I've told her to leave him for good but she always goes back. Always justifying his action and layin the blame for his latest beating on his job, his mother, her...anything but him! According to her 'he loves me, he really does...it's just that he's stressed'. Huh! Some kinda loving! The last time she lost a 4 month pregnancy, the next time the bastard might kill her! The irony of it is they're not even married yet, 7 years of togetherness and she's been his punching bag for 3 of these 'blissful' years. Well bye bye bubble bath! Sayonara blissful sleep!
Inwardly pissed I lug her case into the bedroom and usher her towards the bathroom to clean up and hand her one of my nightgowns. Now Jazz is a beautiful girl with a great body and even greater job but Justin has made her a shadow of the bubbly and vivacious imp I met in college. Jazz was once the heart and soul of every party, the IT girl that everybody wanted to be friends with. People would go out of their way just to see her smile, and do anything to hear her laugh. Jazz and I had also for a brief while been lovers! It wasn't anything serious...more curiosity than lifestyle. We were younger then and wanted to know what it felt like to be loved by a woman, we loved each other as friends and were close enough not to worry about exposure. So I had vested interests in my former lover's happiness. Watching Jazz soaking in the tub brought back forbidden memories of long repressed embraces. Helping her scrub her back my hand lingered ever so briefly on the base of her neck...her sensitive spot and I feel her shudder...it seems she remembers too. She turns her head to look at me...like a puppy left out in the cold and I bend my head and kiss her. Not a deep or passionate kiss...just a light friendly reassuring touch on the lips with mine. Her mouth opens, inviting my tongue in. Instead I nibble on her bottom lip. She moans softly and shivers. My hand moves to her right breast, as I get down on my knees, gently tweaking on her nipple. She opens her legs and guides my hand to her parted legs...
(T. B. C)

DISCLAIMER: All thoughts and opinions expressed here are all mine (crazy as they might seem). All works here are my original work (unless otherwise stated)

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TMI

We currently live in what is commonly referred to as the Information Age. Constantly we're bombarded by information...from radio, print media, tv, the internet...you name it. We've got information up to our ears.
Daily we're asked information about ourselves and disclose intimate details on questionnaires and such. However my current question is...is there such as thing as Too Much Information (aka TMI)? Is there a line between just the right amount and too much?
I went to the bank last month to open an account and was asked to fill a form. Some of the information was routine, where do you live, where do you work etc, but some of the questions were to put it mildly bloody invasive. How does my martial status (or lack thereof) or religious affiliation determine my ability to run a savings account? Savings! Not even a current account which has a facility for overdraft. Even for a current account, legally, my (imaginary) spouse isn't liable for any debts I as wifey incur (sadly if he runs up a big old debt and skips town I get stuck with all the responsibility). Enough of me and my banking wahala, but seriously when do requests for information become invasion of privacy?
In relationships the oft stated mantra is full disclosure, but when is full disclosure too much? Is it proper to list off the number of men you've slept with since you lost your virginity? How many is too many? 5? 10? 30? Do you need to mention booty calls and one nighters in the list? Should you give him clues to the real number of abortions you've done if the need for that discussion arises? If you run across an old fling and find out he knows your significant other, should you spill the beans or shut the hell up and hope they're not too close?
Is telling him you once dated his Dad (before you all got serious) a good idea? Especially when Daddy's not spilling. Or how about telling him you had sex with his best friend? To do or not to do?
I know honesty is essential to any relationship and I also know the Good Book says "the truth shall set you free"; "My people perish for lack of knowledge" "nothing is hidden under the sun" and all other such goodness, but shouldn't some things stay buried, and isn't ignorance supposed to be bliss? Are there things best left unsaid?
Please feel free to contradict me or add your two cents.

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The One That Got Away!

I believe everyone has that one person in their life who they think of with longing and regret. Regret over wasted time, things left unsaid, things better left unsaid. The one person who got away. The one person who has you saying "coulda, shoulda, woulda" and asking that eternal question "what if?" I have (or should I say had) one person like that in my life. The love of my life. My best friend, the one who got away.
I got a call today, a call I wish had never come, but it did. I was informed that my best friend died two days ago. I'm in a state of limbo and still hoping someone will call and say it was just a mistake. But I know that won't happen, his sister's tears made that clear. I'm writing now because I'd rather write than cry. If I don't do something I'll only weep, and I'm not ready to cry yet. The irony of the whole thing is I'd been ill too and never knew he was ill. My illness started the day his did, same thing sef. Malaria and typhoid. I got better, he didn't. What's even funnier is two days ago I woke up feeling unlike my usual self. I was lethargic and really had no zeal to do anything. I remember telling a friend that I was just feeling generally tired of life and fed up. As it was, that was the day he died, and now I wonder if that was the reason (even though I'm not one to romantize such things).
We had a very strange relationship. Very, very strange. We were friends for nearly 8 years, for 5 of those years we were more than friends. Most people (self included) actually thought we'd get married (his kid sisters still daydream). Things happened, that now when I think about it really made no sense, and even after he married someone else we still kept in touch. Even though he hurt me greatly he was still my best friend, and we could never really leave each other. Don't get me wrong. He was married, thus out of bounds, but on an emotional level we were always joined. We could have an entire conversation without saying a word. He always got me, even when I didn't get me. He was the one I could always count on, as strange as that sounds.
He was that one! Maybe the One. He was the one who'd hold my hair while I'd be puking in the bathroom. He was the one who slept by my hospital bed. He was the one I'd stay awake with all night just talking, and the one who I could just sit with for hours and not feel like I had to say a word.
He was the one I always loved, and he loved me too. I'm not talking about the "tear off your clothes" mad passionate kinda love (though there was a time we had that too), I'm talking of the "I love you as you are" kind. He had issues, I had issues, WE had issues and maybe we'd never have made a marriage between us work, but that aside if I killed someone he'd be the one I'd call and he'd help me bury the body, no questions asked and vice versa. He was my person!
Now he's gone for good. So adieu to the one that got away! Adieu to my best friend.

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From Girl friend to Girlfriend

I'm the perfect girl friend! Seriously, I am! Guys just LOVE me. I'm funny, I'm fun, I'm kinda geeky, I talk football, know what a 4-4-3 formation is and am totally fanatical about my team (for them as don't know...Manchester United is the best team ever to grace the planet), I can drink with the best of 'em (and have put many a man under the table), I'm not prone to girly girl antics (i.e I don't flicker my eyelashes and act dumb or burst into tears when I don't get my way (I have a mean left hook for that :-))). I know the difference between SOAP and soap, and also get that Ruby on Rails isn't the name of a movie, and I keep it light. All my male friends come to seek wisdom from my oracle on dating and female issues (Delphi has nought on me) and I'm more or less one of the boys. Really cool and as an added bonus I can cook (all my male friends are in love with me).
So I should have no problem when it comes to my boyfriends (as in unpaid sex workers not as in guys who are my friends). I wish! It appears I become totally clueless when I'm in relations (or is that relationships...I tend to get confused which is which). All my super cool girl-pal powers evaporate when I become "The" Girlfriend. I'm starting to believe that it is a terrible idea move from friends to "friends". You can be really down to earth with your friends, you can talk shit and not feel self conscious or bad. You can be real and not fear judgement or reproach because your friend gets you, and has no preconceived notions or expectations about you. You can enjoy sitting down at a joint and jointly scope the field, offering friendly suggestions about the correlation between gravity and butt\boob sag (depending on the particular asset of preference of the scoper), and the link between shoes and penis size.
However, the minute the line is crossed, the rules change. Jokes that used to make both of you roll hysterically on the floor with laughter now bring about what I'd like to call the "Boys are not smiling" look. The once easy comradeship that was as natural as the hair on your head (the hair you were born with, not that raggedy ass made in Taiwan weave) disappears once you've seen each other naked a few times. The evenings spent chilling with the boys knocking back the double doubles are now taboo. Your one time best source of relationship info no longer exists, let's face it you can't really ask your bf to give you advice on how to get a guy to give you a lil down town action when he's the man in question. Sure you can ask your girls but again lets face it, guys know guys better!
Many conversational topics vanish from your gist repetoire, no more talk about the fly honey you saw at the club. Or how cute that hunk's tush's looking in those (oh those) jeans. Total no-no!
Another disadvantage is that boyfriend knows you. How's that a problem? Well let's look closely. This is the guy you spent nights with giving the down low on all your underground pimpette player moves. This is the guy that was in the know that time you had a holiday fling...when you had a boyfriend no less! He knows you! Bad, bad, bad...Michael Jackson bad! Seperating your pre-dating persona from your current dating persona is at times a task. And let's face it...you know him too (dawg that he is or is that was? :-D)!
Dating is hard enough with someone you don't know, but it's like paddling a canoe upstream without a paddle when you have history. That said I still think I'd prefer dating the guy who knows I like rice and okro, that I think Danger Mouse is way cooler than Mighty Mouse, that knows I'm a mean bitch till I do my first cup of java and slept by my hospital bed when I went in for surgery just so I wouldn't wake up alone.

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Delayed Devotion

Even the most cynical of us would like to believe that maybe we're wrong and true love exists. We want to believe that some times the fabled...happy ever after can happen! However...for the realists among us, we know that the probability of winning the £42 million Lotto or finding El Dorado is greater than that of finding true love. Thus we make do with finding something like love, any love (true or not)!
That said, once found, love rarely lives up to its much touted hype (although I'd love to meet the guy who writes LOVE's PR). It causes psychotic delusions, mental discord and a host of other health problems. The expected camaraderie nonexistent, the anticipated spiritual oneness a ruse, and after awhile its only redeeming virtue...sex...starts to suck, and eventually dries up much like the Nile during a drought! However, we keep trying, whether in this relationship or the next one.
In the course of the love match, complacency sets in! We tend to take those closest to us for granted the most. Our efforts are concentrated on satisfying others outside the union, maybe because we believe that our partner'll understand. After all you're theirs so why should they be antsy and pissed when you're not always emotionally there? You've told them you love them, and that should be enough! Shouldn't it?
Unfortunately it isn't! Sure you said I love you, sure you're faithful, but saying I Love You and showing I Love You are two totally different things. As the saying goes 'actions speak loudest'. When you talk the talk but don't walk the accompanying walk, problems are bound to arise. As human beings, we constantly seek validation (and yes confirmation) from those we admire and love. We thrive on their approval and admiration. Whether we like it or not, or even admit it to ourselves...this is the simple truth.
The title of this piece is courtesy Duffy and her song Delayed Devotion in which she blasts the former love of her life for his nonchalant, lackluster attitude during their affair, and scorns his attempts for reconciliation now that he has woken up from his relationship slumber to realise she's left him for good. His declaration of devotion, alas, came much too late and love had turned to hatred. It would be nice if she stopped there, but our girl gathers steam and in a Lily Allenesque volley of words promises him such torture that by the time she's through with him he'll need to pack up shop and find another town where someone might talk to him! Bitterness at its best! For some unfathomable reason, relationships have a way of bringing out the worst in folk, especially when it doesn't live up to expectation, which is more often than not, but poor deluded love starved fools that we are, we keep trying!
Procrastination, putting off what could be done today til another day, has been the Achille's heel of a lot of relationships. Devotion delayed is as good as no devotion at all. As Tracy Chapman declared in her song 'If Not Now...' a love delayed for the days to come is as good as none. Don't put off giving love when you can and should, and really pay attention to your partners needs and really listen to (not just hear) what they're saying.
Frequently people wake up one fine morning to find 'outta the blue' that they're alone. It's never outta the blue, there is always a warning signal, always a sign, but alas...we're usually too busy with outside stuff that we never put enough effort into the inside stuff.
Pay heed, else you might find yourself listening to Ray Parker Jnr singing 'i tried to warn you...a woman needs love just like you do' in your ear, cos she's gone!
(Originally Posted: 7 May 09)

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The Other Woman

"Imma tear her eyes out...oh that man grabbing bitch", "Imma beat her down and give her an ass whopping she won't forget no time soon"
I'm sure a lot of us women have made those statements (or something close at least...even if it's just in our heads) about the interloper, the intruder who's had the effront to step to our man and pee on our patch of lawn without as much as a by your leave. We've all rained abuse, drawn rain and invoked fire and damnation on the souls of poor misguided trespassers, even if eventually we apply maturity and handle the real culprit...our men!
However this isn't about the other woman who peed on your patch, this is about when you unwittingly (or deliberately) find yourself wearing the costume of the other woman. I've had this experience a couple of times: once I dated a guy for about 4 months, even spent weekends at his house, all things nice, until one weekend I arrive and see pictures that I'd never seen before, wedding pictures!!! The guy'd been married for about a year plus and his wife was in jand to deliver and was due back on Monday. Well to say I was gobsmacked is putting it lightly. The second time I dated this guy for a couple of months but we never ever seemed to get to his house. Warning bells should've gone off immediately but I was like well by the time we close from work it's kinda late...and if he had a girl he'd tell me. Well he had not just a girl, but a fiancee and they were living together, needless to say that affair died a tragic and very sudden death. The third and I believe (and solemnly hope) last time I got to reprise the role of the other woman was in my very own relationship. I wasn't the intruder here, it was my relationship, groomed, nurtured and invested in religiously over the years, five to be exact. I'd been there when he was down and out. When he'd been out of work I'd contributed my widow's mite, even slept with him on the floor when things got so bad that he had to pack back in with his folks. I did the time. Sure we quarrelled...I mean what couple doesn't occasionally? But I really thought we were good, his family liked me, his sisters are still my peeps (even went out with one of them two weeks ago) and everybody knew us as a couple. He finally got a new job, and the pay was far out! And then he changed, someone I saw on the daily during his time off, now started givin me the "babes...I'll get back to you" speech. He started throwing tizzy fits at the slightest provocation. Looking for fights which I refused to give him. I knew something funny was going on, but I was like...chill...we've been through this before, and we worked it! The next thing I knew my coz brought over an invite for a traditional wedding, my beau and some chick he'd known all of three months! To add insult to injury the chick decided to disrespect me by calling my ass 24/7 with leave my man alone calls. I think I handled the matter quite maturely, I didn't retaliate, I didn't make any noise, I just shed the requisite tears and life went on. I don't know how to keep grudges (well...not really) and believe that all relationships serve as a school to teach you wisdom and prepare you for your eventual life partner, so after enough time and water had passed under the bridge, we became friends again, and started talking again but strictly above board. Then madam started hunting me again. Now I know I should really just cut him off but I hate people forcing my hand, and despite what went down we were friends even before we started dating. So...now once again I am the other woman...even though my hands are clean!
(Originally posted: 14 May 09)

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Benefits?! Yes Please!

Ok...when did you guys send out the memo? And why did no one bother to send mine along? Or is mine on its way via snail mail (and with all the technology abound I don't know who was fool enough to use snail mail in this day and age)?
Alright, I guess you're wondering what's got me so ticked off? When was the embargo on sex signed into law? I thought that was just Kenya or wherever. I don't know whether it's just me but I thought one of the benefits of being an active party of a "committed" relationship (RE: Commitment Pt 1 for more of my views on this issue) was the sex? (Alright...1 minute to laugh is all you're getting starting now!)
I'm quite serious...wasn't that the only tangible fringe benefit of being one of a twosome? Yes...I know alot of my readers will gasp in protest and say a relationship is about more than sex, that it's about togetherness, mutual compatibility, and all those mushy warm fuzzy feelings. Ok...I concede in part, but really...isn't sex an incentive somewhere in the mix? Don't get all sanctimonious with me...YOU! I've never been a moralist, always a realist, so why should I start being a goodie two shoes now?
Maybe when I was younger and in my free loving phase I wouldn't think twice about looking for stress relief where I could find it, but I got sold a dud and was told that a relationship was the one place you could get 'all you can eat' guilt-free sex with consistency. So I tossed out my vibrator, hell I even got rid of my booty call! But now I raise a hand in protest and holler as loud as I can na lie o!.
Don't get me wrong I like the late night chilling, the companionable silences, the discussing how your respective days went (even though at times it can be a challenge stifling an inappropriate yawn), the pretending to like the dumb gift he got you on your birthday (if you're lucky that is and he even remembered), the fact that you don't have to drag your best male friend along to events were a plus 1 is a must or heavens forbid turn up stag. All benefits of the relationship. But let's cut to the chase and get to the nitty gritty...it's the sex!
Now...I am by no means a nympho (although by Chike's dating definitions I'm an Easy Nymphomanic...how cool is that?), and I do prefer a little sophistication when it comes to gettin my freak on, but I want what I want when I want it...and right now I ain't getting it! They should really make people sign contracts before they start dating...you know like as you start you have to pledge to do the deed at least 3 times a week (pls note no upper limits exists, grind til you kaput) unless by mutual consent, and a fine should be placed on erring parties, because if that were the case I'd be a fucking millionaire (no pun intended...well not really :-), but you get my drift). I make no apologies...I'm a hoochie...for the right man.

PS: the author will start accepting applications by 30th June. Multiple applications will be rejected, and a full medical report by an approved hospital is required (ECG a must).
PPS: This is a result of Candida, Chike and James's bad influence.
(Originally posted: 14 May 09)

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Little Johnny

A little more non-poetic poetry (or something like it)

Little Johnny was a good boy no doubt,
So his mama said and so it remained til he found what life was all about
He met a girl that rocked his world
And into an abyss he quickly was hurled
She gave him her love, her body, and all she had to give
Whatever she did Little Johnny was quick to forgive
She fucked around...big daddies, fine dandies, alhajis too
Then she'd come crying and say '...but you know it's you I love...don't you boo?'
He still couldn't see the truth from the lies...maybe from all the tears he cried
She had no heart, no love, no truth, with every 'I love you' she always lied
One day she left, took her bag and cleared without a trace
Till one day Johnny found himself in a place staring into space
Life slippin through his fingertips, lab report his only focus
Prayin to the Lord above for a miracle, a little divine hocus pocus
'Love's a lie' he screamed and fist to sky started to rave
For her kinda love had led him to his early grave!
(Originally posted: 19 May 09)

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Bi, Straight or Gay?

Ok I'm back! Been off the note train for a bit but been sorely lacking in inspiration. Not that i'm really inspired right now, but the mind is a muscle and if not exercised it suffers atrophy, and a sick twisted mind like mine is a terrible thing to waste ;-). So to escape the realms of the congenitally brain dead I'll endeavor to write.
Since i've been gone lots has gone down. I'm officially single and got my player jersey back :-) so applications can start coming in now ahead of the earlier announced June 30 open season. I added a year to my age on Wednesday and have my foot a little deeper in the grave. I had a far out trip to Gidi, did the celeb paparazzi thing, got a guy to strip for me (only his tee mind you...I liked the shirt and he obliged).
The trip was great on the networking front but I struck out major league on the macking tip...seriously...strike 1, strike 2, strike 3 and you're out!...I have no game! ROTFL! Not even a booty squeeze! :-(.
However the trip got me starting to wonder if I'm a latent homosexual! Aha...knew that'd grab you by the nuts. I could go all Jamie Foxx and blame it on the alcohol, but doesn't alcohol just lower your inhibitions? Why am I on this train?
Well I went all Katy Perry during my trip and smooched some random chick in a nightclub, unfortunately I was too drunk to remember much about it apart from the fact that she was FINE, and I know I hit on another chick at another club, but she said I wasn't her type. I got hit on by another chick the next day and for a moment seriously considered inviting her to my telly the next day!
Now that has me worried! The first incidents could be blamed on imbibing too much of Russia's finest, but the second? Stone sober?
It could just be a manifestation of my natural curiosity about gettin with a woman. Or it might be the effects of my current sex famine and I'm just horny. LOL. It's not that I haven't thought about it before, but maybe because the opportunity has never really presented itself I've never had reason to seriously contemplated it. Now however, the opportunity presents...so do I act upon it and add it to the list of crazy things I've done in my life or take a chill pill and not start something that I might find I like a whole lot more than the regular? And let's face it...getting head'll never be an issue again. ;-).
Homosexuality is a big ass no-no in our society and most others but people seem far more tolerant of girl on girl action. And I ask why? Same sex is same sex whether male on male or female on female so why the discrimination? A lot of guys I know are hoping to sing Ray Lavender's "My Girl Got a Girlfriend" ditty in hope of a good old fashioned menage a trois but shouldn't what's sauce for the goose be sauce for the gander too? And shouldn't acceptance of one equal acceptance of the other? This is just me thinking out loud while my angel and my devil fight for my eternal soul over my bi-straight-gay musings!
Now I know majority of my male friends'll be like 'Can I watch?' if I ever decide to flip the switch and start tappin instead of gettin tapped (and the answer to that is a very empathic...Hell NO!!!).
(Originally Posted in facebook: 05 June 2009)

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PLC Theory

Well I'm back in my school marm super hero disguise and ready to continue to (mis)educate you. I'm going to give you a very abridged marketing lesson (you guys should really start paying me for all this wisdom...I take AmEx, Mastercard, and InterSwitch payments although cash is preferable, what with all this bad credit going around!)
Anyway to the lesson at hand...the PLC, for laymen the Product Life Cycle. Every product has a life cycle, pretty much like a person's. The conception stage (R & D phase), the growth stage, the maturity stage, and the death or retirement stage.
First, some bright chaps in marketing come up with a product to serve a particular need or to improve upon an existing product. After spending mucho dinera on research, market surveys and branding etc the new product enters the scene.
It goes through a growth stage where product loyalty is developed and sales figures increase as more people become aware of the product. The maturity stage is when optimum usage or sales are reached. People are buying, word of mouth is good and everybody's happy...buyers feel their getting value for money and the producers are laughing to the bank (hopefully).
Then, comes decline. The market is saturated, product usefulness has run its course, imitators have arrived, market share and sales figures start to fall and eventually the product gets phased out. Now if the makers have their act together they can reinvent the product, discover new uses for the product, make entry into the market difficult for new contenders, engage in product diversification or modification etc during the maturity stage and extend the life cycle, but eventually the cycle must end.Now the same PLC theory exists in relationships. The conception stage of the relationship begins when Mr. A desires the hot new product, Ms. B.. Extensive research ensues...where does she hang out, what does she like, how does she roll? etc. Much capital and other resources are spent, surveys conducted and strategic planning engaged in to ensure smooth market entry.
Now depending on the desire of the man, the product maybe invested in as a prototype or beta test pending the release of the final product (Ms. F., G., H. or Z. Or if he's really in to Excel he could product test till Ms. IJ256!), or he might see Ms. B as the finished product.
The relationship progresses tentatively (the growth stage), everybody on their best behaviour and the market share of Ms. B increases as Mr. A begins to "buy" her way, and her uses are discovered.
All things being equal, we progress to the maturity stage. Ms. B's been accepted and her market share has reached its peak, and the issue of competing products arises and new entrants flood the market.
How does Ms. B maintain her market dominance?
A smart business person might choose to:

• re-brand the product along with an extensive new marketing strategy showcasing the product's alternate uses; (she flips the script and shows him other sides of her)
• engage in product adaptation or modification to meet the changing demands of the buyer (she attunes to his changing needs and grows with him);
• introduce of a supplementary product to increase the usefulness of and spark desire for the initial product (in this case fast forward 9 months); or
• simply find ways to remind the buyer why he was loyal to the product initially (she keeps giving that 'good good').

Now if Ms. B has been successful in warding off the competition she should be married, and only retired by death (usually Mr. A's).
However, as we sadly know, not all products are successful in the open market, it could be that:

• the product was a mismatch for the buyer (she wasn't the girl for him),
• the product's entry into the market was ill timed (he wasn't ready to settle down or she was too emotionally immature to settle down),
• the product failed to deliver (she wasn't who she said she was),
• the product maker failed to fully understand the market thus failing to adapt to changing user requirements (she got too comfortable, and forgot to pay attention and research his changing needs) or
• it was simply a bad market (he was just the wrong guy)

Whatever the case or cause, the product failed to satisfy the end user (Mr. A).A smart business person, if they decide to reintroduce the product, will analyse the reasons for the initial failure, reassess the target market demographics (make sure she's looking at the right type of man), align the product for market compatibility (make sure she's the right woman) and work out the kinks before relaunch (check bad attitudes, develop emotional maturity etc). Likewise in a failed relationship, a wise woman should assess, reevaluate and workout her lapses (if any) in the previous relationship, and then reintroduce herself appropriately repackaged for her new target market.
Originally Posted: 26 April 09

DISCLAIMER: All thoughts and opinions expressed here are all mine (crazy as they might seem). All works here are my original work (unless otherwise stated)

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I Can't Tell You Why (...or Maybe I Can)

I'm really bored...hence the note blitz! As referenced in one of my prior notes (RE: My Current Playlist) the song with the subject title is one of my favorites. It's a song done in the late 70s by The Eagles the group that gave us classics like Hotel California, Love Will Keep Us Alive and Tequila Sunrise. It's an oldie no doubt, but its essence remains true, and most likely will centuries to come. It tells of a lover who is constantly drawn back to his partner. Despite the fights, the arguements, heart breaks and disappointments he constantly stops short at the door. Thankfully, he doesn't label his stupidity under the moniker of love.

I know...I constantly come across as a relationship cynic, maybe I am to an extent but I do seriously believe that God had good purpose when he made us male and female then told us to hook up. My problem with this however is rooted in Genesis 6 v 6 (Man by nature is wicked and constantly plans evil)...so many bad people with so many bad plans...but that asides, back to my topic.

My reservations regarding lust, like and love (and whether a fundamental difference actually exists between them) on the back burner momentarily, I find myself in a relationship quandary and have to ask...is love really enough? Love is so esoteric in nature...a mythical camelot, the yogi's nirvana...searched for, but the map showing its location lost in transit. It is not based on reality the way we talk it up, it is an ideal...and misplaced idealism is dangerous!

Love and all its promised peace have (and will continue to) driven many a soul crashing to the rocks just like the singin siren of folklore. Love is nice in concept, but I wonder whether the search for it hasn't somewhat eroded our God-given sense of practicality!

I love you...you (says you) love me, but somehow we can't seem to make it work! Why? Do we really have the right idea or are we simply pursuing a set of impossible totally unSMART goals? As I constantly preach, saying it and actually doing it are very different things. How can you claim to love me when you don't need me?

Love breeds need! The need for validation, the need to be needed. The need to feel like the other person's life would be incomplete without YOU! The need to feel like you count in the person's eyes. That they seek your validation too, that they lean on you, confide in you and can be weak in your presence. That your views count to them, that they can't live without you, that you are special. Selfishness at its best. I've recently discovered that I am selfish...I WANT to be truly needed, not just wanted, which goes contrary to my belief that love is about choice not necessity i.e you choice to be with the person you're with and are not compelled by forces beyond your control to be there.

There are times in a relationship that it feels like one of those 'never-ending' tv dramas where halfway through they keep replacing the soap star that plays your favorite character with someone else. Some relationships are just like that...you discover that you are f**king expendable...in YOUR OWN bloody movie (like some over-the-hill scarlet in Hollywood). Either your 'celebrity' status is so low that they could put in a new actor and your beau wouldn't even realise that he was kissing someone else, or worse still you get killed off in the script without a warning notice!

My new philosophy is that we do not seek love but need. Unfortunately we tend towards people who don't need us or who need us a bit too much (read this as co-dependant clingy, psycho a la Fatal Attraction (actually Glenn Close used them as a case study) with nada self-esteem). The issue now becomes an issue of striking a suitable need balance.

However women tend to be drawn to men who don't really need them (self included). By our very nature (most of us anyway) we are drawn towards 'MEN'. By this I refer to men who are driven, focused, goal getting, successful, take charge, cock of the coop men; not mealy mouthed mama's boys. Men who make things like walking on water, devising a workable plan for global peace and bringing an end to global warming seem like a walk in the park...all in a day's work (:-)), real kickass alpha males. The thing is...such men tend to be loners, packless wolves...never truly needing anyone, and find all they need within.

So what's a girl to do? Basically one thing...deal with it! Either accept the fact that he'll never truly need you in a Jordan Sparks' and C. B 'No Air' kinda way and be okay with that, or bounce and look for lesser mortals. Cynic? Or just a realist? I'd like to think I'm the latter.All said and done, I think I've told you why I remain where I'm not needed. Maybe it's love (or something like it) (yeah...right!!!)?

Originally Posted: 07 May 09

DISCLAIMER: All thoughts and opinions expressed here are all mine (crazy as they might seem). All works here are my original work (unless otherwise stated)

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You’re Not The One…

You're not the one for me!

Sure! You make my heart skip a beat

And you lift me off my feet

But you're still not the one for me!!!

The one for me wouldn't love me then leave me,

Wouldn't leave me to hold my pillow tight,

Each and every night,

So you're SO not the one for me.

You might brighten up my very day

And love me so well in every way

But you're still not the one for me.

So what if I love you so much it sometimes hurts,

When you take my heart and grind it in the dirt?

So what if you are my all and all,

When you kick my heart 'round like a football

You might be my first and my last

But you see…you're so not the one for me.

I reason, I ponder

I search and I wonder

Logic tells me that I'm right

But my heart still puts up a fight

And whispers…

You're SO the ONE for ME!!!!

Written: 18 April 2008

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The Wish-list!

Many a night I've lain on my bed and wondered "Why am I alone?". Don't get me wrong! I'm actually one of those weird people that can and does enjoy their own company for days on end, by design! That said I do like 'adult' human companionship from time to time.
I want someone to talk to (it is so...o NOT cool to be talking to yourself in a locked room!), someone to enjoy the silence with, someone to snuggle with Sunday morning when playing hookie from church. Someone to watch really bad Hong Kong movies with while you play critic from opening credits till 'THE END' rolls on screen. Someone who shares my taste in 'weird' music by Nigerian standards and has the commonsense to tell me I look gorgeous when I gain ten pounds. Someone who really gets my dumb jokes and gets it when I have an epiphany. Someone to be my +1 when I get an invite to a gig or party (going stag has its virtues but when everybody else is a pair it can get old). Someone to be there when I cry and someone I can let my guard down with 99.9% of the time.


Now this isn't atypical! I'm sure I'm not the only person with this wish-list, but where the irony is is that I'm in a relationship and have been for 6 years!
Yes...for those of you who think I'm a lesbian...I have a man! But do I really? We've been together for ages (longer than a lot of marriages I might add), but recently I've found myself asking why do I feel so alone! Why am I still living the single life? He's been on transfer for almost a year but this current state of affairs started long before he left.
I was initially content with the status quo...we hook up when we need to, hang out individually, call before we visit (ok...that was my idea...what you don't know about doesn't count) etc. But a six year booty call isn't my idea of a relationship. I love him, and recently he confessed that he loves me too, but I'm not sure I want to continue on this ride anymore.
Maybe turning 30 has something to do with it. I've realized that I want far more. I WANT to get married and have more children (I have 3 daughters from previous encounters) and time's a-wasting...big time!
I've been gentle with him, letting him know I'm there, never pushing him and letting him find his feet in our thing, but I can't allow that anymore. I want all those things on my wish-list! And I want them soon.
At the same time I'm kinda scared of letting go. Me...back on the dating scene! Agh! Frightening thought! Should I be so ready to throw away 6 years filled with some moments of joy or should look for something more? Maybe the question I really need to ask myself here, I guess, is: do I deserve the Status quo or do I deserve the wish list?!

DISCLAIMER: All thoughts and opinions expressed here are all mine (crazy as they might seem). All works here are my original work (unless otherwise stated)

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Commitment Pt. 1

DISCLAIMER (My psychiatrist asks me to state this for obvious reasons ;-) ): The author of this note is slightly psychotic. Anyone who takes this note too seriously has only themselves to blame.

Ok...I've done truth, fidelity, and morality so I might as well throw commitment in the mix! Commitment (relationship-wise) can be defined very loosely as:

agreeing to hook up with one person for better or worse (not necessarily in form of the standard ball-and-chain arrangement called marriage), and promising to have no nookie on the side for as long as your relationship shall live.

Now this said, the dictionary has another definition of the word commitment. Commitment may also refer to.

the period of confinement, or the actual confinement of an individual, in a psychiatric facility. Sometimes the commitment is entered voluntarily by the person so committed, (but usually there isn't much choice in the matter on the part of the committ-ee * author's addition).

English language has always intrigued me with its ambiguity, play on words and subtle ironies. How ironic that the word for a loving relationship and the confinement of a mentally unstable person (i.e. craze man in local parlance) are the same! This might be just coincidental (yeah...right!), but the general behaviour of people in "committed" relationships makes me beg to differ. Now here we have the makings of a great research topic.

The Hypothesis: there is a strong positive relationship between committed relationships and deteriorating mental health. Research questions arising:

1. Do relationships actually make people asylum-worthy?
2. Does love make one crazy?
3. Are those in relationships already latent psychotics and being in a relationship just acts as a catalyst or trigger for the craze to start?
   

I'll pause here for now, but will continue this line of thought in a subsequent note.

Originally Posted: Jan 11, 2009.

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