Tag Archives: love

emotions and feelings

My Lagos: A Love Story

I cannot remember the first time I came to Lagos but I can tell you for free that I was terrified! I had grown up watching those comedies about how Lagos was a hustling place and that if you didn’t shine your eyes, your own don finish. I had heard the word ‘JJC’ in one of those movies and I was determined not to be one; though I was one. Do you remember ‘Lagos Na Wa’ with Polypompom? Oh my gosh! *doubles over in laughter*

Its easy to be intimidated by the sprawling city. My first reaction was that everyone was in a hurry. To this day, I may be only one that walks leisurely around but I’ll have to admit that my steps have quickened and my paces longer. And I don’t like it. When people say, “you this Lagos geh”, I am always quick to respond “I’m not a Lagos girl, I’m a bini girl”. But then I wonder, ‘why can’t I stay more than one week in any other place without feeling this crazy need to be back in ‘my Lagos’. Yes, its my Lagos now.

Where else can you find conductors like the ones in my Lagos. I don’t drive in Lagos and when I was still a JJC (If you don’t know what this means, I have nothing to say to you), I loved to take cabs. Hmmmm. You know cabs are cheap in Benin and I thought it was the same in Lagos. When them tear me bill ehn, nobody advised me to start entering buses. And I have grown to love Lagos buses; there is absolutely nothing like them.

You will always know the CMS buses from the Obalende buses. CMS buses are a contraption of rickety motor parts held together by bolts and visible ropes and they always smell like fish, sweat and bad mouth odor. If you are not sitting near a window, you are finished. You always wonder if the mismatched parts will not come apart when the machine (for lack of a better word) is turned on. Obalende buses are tad cleaner and still look like they will get to their destination.  Some even have music. Let’s not talk about the BRT buses, I avoid them as much as I can. I’ve only boarded it twice in the 2 years since I relocated to Lagos and it terrified me. They drive off the road in traffic, on the bushy parts meant for pedestrians. How can a large, wobbly vehicle decide to do some James bond moves that will have the vehicle tilting dangerously like its about to fall on other vehicles? No way o. I’m just 29 and not ready to die. Even if I’m ready, certainly not by a nonsense BRT bus. God forbid!

Lagos may very well be the only place that people get on buses without having money to pay for the journey. That one still baffles me. And the funniest part is that when all hell breaks loose, their voices are the loudest and most strident. ‘You dey mad? Naim make you dey shout? Na wetin? Kilode! Ode niyen’. Then of course, those diehard conductors will never let the errant passenger go until either he comes up with the money or a Good Samaritan passenger does (which is always the case). So it stands to reason that if you have an interview or a crucial meeting, take extra money with you because you just may be paying someone else’s bus fare. That is the hustling spirit.

Then there is the case that happened to me so many times that I had no choice but to wise up. So on my way to Lekki Phase 1 (which is where I work) from Ajah (which is where I live), the bus fare on a sunny, traffic-less day is N150. I had given the conductor N200 Naira. We had gotten to Ikate and my change was not forthcoming though I had intermittently asked for it since I paid. “Conductor , may I have my change please”? He didn’t respond which was his exact response to my previous request. Everybody else kept quiet. I was beginning to wonder what the problem was. I could see that he had change and had given everybody else their’s so why was he giving me the silent treatment? By the time we got to the next bus stop, I had lost my temper and I exploded “My friend, will you give me my change? You dey crase for head abi you deaf? Give me my change now now as I dey look you so”. It was as if everyone woke up from their slumber as some asked him to give me my change. At that point he did while murmuring, “abeg take your change. Na because of N50 you dey shout? You no talk am small small” “No, you deaf since. Na you dey help me work my money abi? Idiot!”. Ehn! Bini girl like me; you want take me shine? If I hear.

The love between Lagos and I was definitely not at first sight. We had our bad times; those days where we were engaged in a supreme battle of wills and wits. But those days are long past. We’ve settled into a relationship based on genuine respect, fondness, our hyper nature and the fact that we have absolute faith that we were meant to be. The city still exasperates me but I’ve come to terms with the fact that we are like Husband and wife. We push and pull at each other but at night, we go to bed together and during tough times, we stand by each other’s side. Now, that true love.


Faith that works


My friends say I don’t believe in destiny. It’s not like I don’t believe in it but the thing is, I have always believed that if you want something, you’d better go and get it as it will not jump into your lap. Who we are today is formed by our environment, our circumstances and the experiences that we go through and if you have lived my life or better still, gone through my experiences with me, you might understand why I can be cynical at times.

Don’t get it wrong. I believe in faith. You know, in 2008, I attended Bible School (I know, I know, it’s unbelievable. Even I don’t believe it myself sometimes, especially when certain lewd thoughts enter my head), Word of Faith Bible Institute.  I graduated with a distinction but there was a course that so worried my pastor that he had to call me into his office for a chat. As you can guess, that course was ‘Faith’. It was the only course I had a C. The rest were A’s, except Faith. I even passed Prayer.

Me? If a prayer is more than 15 minutes, my dear, you can be sure I am most likely thinking of something else. And I don’t pray in crowds. I just can’t shut out what the other people are saying. You know how Pentecostals like to shout as if the messenger angel is hard of hearing. So by the time, prayers are over, your ears are ringing like you stood near a cathedral communion bell. Suffice to say, the best place for me to pray still remains, a quiet place where I am all alone.

So my pastor called me and asked to talk to me. Didn’t I believe in faith? Was my faith level low? What was my relationship with my Lord and Savior? Did I doubt things because they were not being manifested in the physical (which is a nice way of asking if I am a doubting Thomas)? Did I need extra lessons? How could he help me? Plenty questions. Some I had answers to and some I preferred to remain mute because I simply didn’t have answers and there was no reason why I didn’t have answers.

I do believe in faith. A lot. But Faith has been so bastardized that its hard to understand it anymore. Now, I’ve learned to be practical. If the skies are grey, most likely, its gonna rain. So take an umbrella or a raincoat (Do people still wear that sef)? If you missed your period and you have been sexually active, you are most likely pregnant, so congrats. Safe delivery. If you haven’t read all year and its 30 minutes to the exam, you are most likely going to fail, so start saving for the next year’s school fees. Yes, there is nothing that prayer cannot solve but please let’s exercise a bit of restraint and take responsibility for our actions. I don’t understand what faith has got to do with certain issues, honestly. It is just so ridiculous sometimes.  

Back to the destiny thing, If what will be will be, then why struggle for success at all? Oya, let’s all get naked and go dancing in the rain and hope that at the end of the year, we would all be successful, famous and stinkingly rich. Let’s all fold our hands and not work but hope and fast and pray that manna will fall from heaven like it did in the old testament (meanwhile, God fit just vex and it go happen o. It go be like ‘feem’).

Be honest. ‘No food for lazy man’. We all see that at the back of lorries and trailers, especially the old, rickety ones that look like they are about to fall on the nearest vehicle (and sometimes, sadly, they actually do). Forget the old lorry, remember the message. Because that’s the koko these days. Even yahoo boys gats to hustle. Sometimes they don’t even bathe for weeks, or brush their teeth but camp out at hidden cyber cafes or in their homes ‘yahoo-ing’ away. Trust me, I would know. I’m a Bini girl, we practically invented yahoo-yahoo (but don’t quote me anywhere).

I believe in practical faith. Yeah, I think I can safely call it that. Faith that actually makes sense. Not the type that the big man upstairs listens to in stunned silence and then erupts into laughter at the level of silliness. Practical faith works. At least for me. It is a rocking combination of realism, practicality and faith. Make what you will out of it, but that is what works for me. That being said, one thing I’m beginning to believe more and more is that the lines just fall into the right places at the right time if you are taking the right steps. Confused? Bear with me for a while.

I am happy where I am right now. I feel like I’m where I’m supposed to be. I might have taken my own sweet time getting here but I kinda feel this is a place I really should have been. Will I remain here? I honestly do not know. All I know is that it’s a journey. Last week, one of my ex-boyfriends proposed to me. As in, the serious stuff. And the truth is, If he hadn’t broken my heart (whatever was left of it anyway), looking at him now, I would never have been happy with him. Hindsight is so much more truthful. There are some journeys that teach us lessons and are meant to guide us. There are some that are just a waste of energy and time. Some experiences teach us, guide us, give us a map and help us re-assess our journey and some are just breathers – meant to distract us for a while. I believe people will end up where they are meant to be as long as they don’t stop moving in the right direction.

I don’t have all the answers. I may not even be making much sense (I knew I sucked at writing, but the wise ones said to never give up, right?). But one answer I do have is, with a bit of time and luck (I don’t believe in luck. The damn thing has never worked for me. Now, Grace loves me. That I believe in), everything will work out in the end. If its not okay, then its not the end. Now, that is Faith that works. How the heck did I ever get a C?

If wishes were horses…


I’m so sorry, Ai.

They say, ‘To live in the hearts of those you love is not to die’. I have never really liked that saying. I still don’t. I don’t know why. I don’t want to lose anyone. I don’t want them to live in my heart. I want them to live in the physical world where I can touch them, love them, argue with them and hold them. But again they say, ‘If wishes were horses, beggars would ride’. I would not give up the memories of my loved ones for anything in the world.

I remember the first day I met Aisha Suleiman. She had breezed into Bundle of Joy Pre-School like she owned it. I say breezed because that was how she rolled. Her confidence was out of this world. For such a slim woman, it seemed like she could power the entire Southern part of Nigeria which is notorious for its epileptic/non-existent power supply. She wanted to enroll her son, Ayomide in my daycare facility. From the first moment I met her, I was fascinated by the strength and self assuredness that oozed from her. She spoke with the ‘britico’ accent of someone who had spent years abroad. I wanted her son in my facility but I wasn’t exactly sure of his seemingly ‘Stone-cold, Steve Austin’ mother. She looked like trouble.

The next time I saw Patricia, my gist partner, I told her about the ‘troublemaker londoner lady with her nonsense british or whatever accent she dey form’. How would I have known that she would become such a huge impact in my life?  She did enroll her son and also basically enrolled me into her life. I remember how she used to come spend hours with me in the office, taking care of the kids, complaining about our family, bitching about life and browsing boohoo.com. She would browse and select what she wanted, pay her brother and ask him to send it to Nigeria for her. I remember when her customers would not pay her, she would complain to me and I would think of some ‘egbe-wager’ way to get the money back, most of it theoretical. Most of it I concocted so outlandishly just to make her smile and laugh. She had the greatest laugh in the world. She laughed without holding anything back, with her whole heart. Unlike me, I have mastered the art of laughing while thinking a dozen worrying and unpleasant thoughts. I loved her laugh. I loved her. I love her.

I remember her teasing that I might as well employ her as she basically came to the office everyday and spent hours there. All the kids knew her and loved her. The Parents got used to her as well and basically regarded her as a member of staff and were always shocked when She was introduced as a parent. Parents loved to come to the office to unwind and relax and gist with other parents. She started that.

I remember the day I visited her at the Hospital when she had a crisis. She had yelled on me for not coming to visit her earlier but quickly quieted down when I told her I was spending the entire day with her. That was the day I wrote ‘Taking back my Spiritual Leadership’. Aisha was a handful. She was like a steam roller, whatever that is. But her heart was so big! She was the perfect definition of ‘tough as nails on the outside, soft as a jelly on the inside’. My number one supporter and fan! My personal cheerleader!

Ayo was everything to her. Her pride and joy. Together, we made choices for him. What school he would attend, how she would raise money for his fees, and the best form of discipline for a first child. That was Aisha. She shared her life and could so easily include herself in your pain and trouble.

When I had to change cities, all she asked was, ‘what’s the plan’? She did not offer unsolicited advice, all she did was give me a shoulder to lean on, to support me and to remind me of what I wanted whenever I forgot. She was the one person who did not judge me or my choices.

Lagos! Now this thought has got me smiling ruefully. ‘Eseosa! Na so you be? Na Lagos make you change like this? If na abroad you come go nko? Person no ever see or hear from you again. My friend, you better change!’ I would yell right back and burst into laughter, promising that I would change and would keep in touch more. It happened once, twice, thrice,……..and it went on like this for 2 years.

2014. I knew she hadn’t called me in a while. It hit me one day at work. Aisha hadn’t called me in a while to yell at me for not keeping in touch. I made a mental note to call her before she called me. That was it. I made a mental note. A mental note.

2 days ago, I checked my bbm messages after a week. My boyfriend and I were fighting again for the gazillionth time and going through a phase that I had promised myself that I would not go through again. I had just moved into a new house and I was still trying to adjust and get ready for the life of traffic that it seemed was now my portion. I was broke. Water had stopped running and I was thinking of how to put a banana peel on the ground for my miserly new landlord and his bighead. My colleagues would not stop calling me that I made them come to work on a public holiday. Water poured on my laptop. I was tired of it all. As if these truly mattered! So I checked my bbm messages which I remember to do maybe once a week. As usual, there was a lot of broadcast messages which is what you get when you have about 500 contacts. I don’t even know what I am doing with 500 contacts. I started ending chats when I saw Hassan’s broadcast message from a while ago ‘We are now live at the wedding reception of Kate and Hussein…’ and a personal message that stated the website of the couple. Hassan was her younger brother and Hussein’s twin.

Curious and elated, I opened his dp. Aisha’s picture was his dp with the inscription, ‘RIP Sis’. Immediately I was irritated at people who would put people’s pic up with funny messages that they had forgotten to change form the last pic they put up. Immediately I pinged her to discuss the wedding. It bounced back. I called and her numbers were switched off. I started feeling a little afraid. I checked on Facebook but there was nothing. I heaved a sigh of relief but the little shadow of fear would not go away. I managed to ignore it for about 20 minutes but I couldn’t anymore and so pinged Hassan. It took a little while to respond but when he did, it wasn’t with good news. Aisha had died on April 1.

After the tears and sobs have dried off, all I feel is guilt. What is the meaning of a mental note? Why didn’t I just pick up the phone to call? Why? Would it have taken anything away from me? What was I so busy doing? She constantly checked up on me; made sure I was okay. Why couldn’t I have been a better friend? Why couldn’t I just call? I remember other friends who have blessed my life in so many ways that I do not keep in touch with. I am friendly enough to meet new people but keeping in touch seems like such a big deal to me and I don’t get it.

Chigozie and Joseph Efienokwu and their entire family have known me all my life and been there for me through it all. Heck, I literally planned Bundle of Joy with them. Adesuwa Dinyo, I have known since primary School and I would not be the dubious ‘fashion-conscious’ girl I am now, if not for her. Osayi Edosomwan loves me though I really don’t know why and constantly defends me and is one of the most loyal friends I have and I missed her wedding and the birth of her first child. What is wrong with me? No man has ever shown me the kind of love that IK Elaiho has showed me since I was in Js 1. Joy Akpomeza who taught me how to love giving. They are so many. Sandra Ikuli, Eyitemi, Deborah, Jessie, Imade Owie, Omosigho Ogbebor, Blessing, Eseosa, Timi Febabor, Patricia and the list goes on. I cannot remember the last day that I talked to any of these wonderful people. I am just too busy. And I was too busy to call Aisha.

I haven’t felt this much pain in a long while. I prayed I wouldn’t feel it for a long time. I thought I had seen it all but somehow I feel so small and so humble. I don’t want memories or want her in my heart. I just want her back.

Ai, I’m so sorry.

What has age got to do with it?

First off, I’m 28 years old so you don’t think I’m an oldie. Infact I’m not even 28 yet as it’s not July 4th yet but oh well! I am a sexy, confident young lady! And may I say, sexy again? *winks* When we talk of age and love and being a woman (a sexually active woman), the term ‘cougar’ comes up! For married women in their early thirties, they like to play around with the term thinking it makes then look sexy. Oh well, Na una sabi. Who is to say, when I’m in your shoes, I won’t do same or worse! Please note that I said ‘term’, not boys o.

Oh yes! I can boldly and calmly say I like boys. Especially for entertainment. My colleague, regularly tells me that I like boys too much and he is always skeptical about introducing me to his friends. Boys, being the operative word here. Nonsense colleague of mine!

Men are complicated beings, right? That is a fact we can all agree. Who needs them? (Btw, My Oga at the top must NEVER read this o! Not in this lifetime). But seeing as body no be firewood and one isn’t ready for the complexities and complications of the ‘men’ folk, can’t one luck an apple from the tree of ‘boy’ hood to counter the raging effects of this hard life? Abi no be so? Has anyone noticed that they are getting finer and finer by the day?

This fact was brought home to me some days ago. My friend and I had gone to a bar after work hours like we usually do to ogle fine boys and disagree over whose ass was better proportioned when the guys bent over to shoot pool. When he walked in, I swallowed and mehn, I had no drink in my mouth. I simply drank in the sight of him. The boy was fine! Abeg, leave matter, he fine!#endof. My friend agreed that he was fine but he couldn’t be more than 24. “So? And how is that supposed to be my business nau?’. I couldn’t for the life of me understand why his age was an issue. In my opinion, he was a ‘man’ without the wahala, attitude and baggages that came with the older species of his gender.

“Haba, Eseosa, you don spoil finish o. You no go leave all these small boys?” I fired back without missing a beat. “My friend, be guided. Small boy for where? Can you look at that boy again and see the confidence that exudes from him? His mother didn’t give him that. Experience did.” We couldn’t seem to agree and left the matter there. This morning, I have been told my my colleague that I like boys again. So I have penned my thoughts since I can’t get them to listen verbally.

The quest for love is no an easy road. Trust me, I have been there, done that and swiped the dirt of my shoulder. From looking for the fairytale, cinderella and glass slipper kind of love(which I am still searching for), to the kind where I only need you for the night(which is far more attainable), it can be an arduous journey. As time goes by, as the men become more unreasonable and clueluess and we become bag-women, a paradigm shift occurs. You stop thinking like you used to think. You need to, in order to survive.

I don’t wait for you. If I like you and I want you, what stops me from coming to get you? If I desire a pair of shoes, I walk up to the counter and make moves to take it home with me. Simple! No need for long talk. But I digress. From the age of 24, I don’t see what the problem is. I have dated younger guys before (and i mean, real dating, no be come chop) and for a while, they were beautiful relationships. Where did it lead me? Here! The same place that relationships with older guys left me so what is the point?

We need to free our mind from the shackles we have placed on it. Have you heard of Casper Smart and Jlo? Hello!!! Demi Moore and Ashton Kutcher? Fine! It didn’t land Demi anywhere but then neither did her marriage to Bruce Willis. So what are you telling me? Abegi!!

Building my Workplace Basics

You can never go wrong with a black blazer and blue jeans.So recently, I started working in a structured organisation that’s not owned by me. This is the first time I’m  working for someone else as I have always started my own thing. Whether I will start up something sooner or later remains to be seen as I am enjoying this experience. Oh, its wonderful! I don’t worry about salaries, responsibilities, rent, overheads, budgets, and everything that CEOs worry about and I swear, I sleep better at night. On the flip side, I have to put up with my boss’ stance on how she wants things done, orders, deadlines, the much ‘dreaded’ performance appraisals, strategic competencies (Believe me, when I say I hear this everyday), and quite truthfully a lot of the worries I had as a CEO though on a much smaller scale.

A big thing that I have had to deal with is the workplace dress code. A lot people who know me know I don’t like being ordered about (I’m coping nicely, thank you very much) and I have a particular way I dress. I like short gowns, tight jeans, colourful blouses and jackets, bright coloured high heels and beautiful suede ballerina flats and moccasins. Some of these do not quite cut it in the corporate world as I have to have meetings with managers and at least, mid-level staff of other organisations. Wahala don burst! I don’t own a suit and I do not look forward to wearing one. There’s just something about it that does not agree with me. I like crazy. Crazy is normal for me so conservative suits are weird for me. Infact I just don’t like suits, conservative or not sef.

The good thing is that you actually don’t have to wear suits in my office (Somebody say alleluia)!!! But of course, you have to look decent and classy! Now, you’re talking! And as long as I didn’t wear clothes that showed my tattoo to meetings with other organisations, we were cool. As soon as I heard those rules, fium! I quickly constructed my basics. Basics are the framework with which you consolidate your attire, or in my case, wardrobe around. I came up with some ideas which have been pretty helpful thus far. These basics have helped me create a classy, stylish, less conservative look that is still totally me.  Y’all know I don’t do the conservative thing.


I don’t like black bags. No way! If I have to carry a black bag, there has to be other bright colours as well and this may not work in the workplace (no pun intended). I have had to update my wardrobe with browns (this I love) and other dark colours but definitely not black. To be honest, I don’t own a black bag and I’m not looking to buy.


Oh, I love dresses. The shorter the dress, the deeper the love. Now, I might not be able to wear crazy short dresses to the office but I can wear, classy short dresses to the office. Biko, note the difference. Those ones that end just above the knee are the classy ones *wink*. Anything shorter, hmmm, you are on your own. I have learnt to invest in good dresses, I swear, they make you look like a billion bucks even with minimal accessories.

White Shirt

This is one basic that can be used in a zillion different ways. It’s a no-brainer. I love, love white dresses because they are so versatile and can be paired with anything and accessorized like crazy. On Fridays, I’m allowed to wear jeans (Infact I had to beg for this policy as my vast collection of jeans were just sitting there doing nothing and wasting my money) and paired with a white shirt and colorful shoes makes you feel like a member of the royal house.

Black blazer

I can’t count the number of times I have had to thank the person that came up with this idea. Because its black, it goes with everything. With skirts, trousers, dresses, name it! And the amazing part is, it could be cheap and still look like it cost a fortune. The black blazer is the miracle worker in the wardrobe.


Seeing as my behind ain’t on the jagbajantic side, I usually don’t wear skirts but I when I started work, I discovered this fabulous length that makes me look pretty good. I will keep preaching about that length that stops right above the knee, give me a pulpit abeg.  When I wear skirts and pair them with beautiful shoes, I look and feel like the sun. Its amazing how what you put on affects how you feel, that’s what I keep saying and I wish people would listen.


From belts, to scarves, brooches, necklaces, bracelets, statement rings and unusual earrings, accessories are the icing on top of a red velvet cake (my foodist attitude must show itself). I play a lot with fashion but its very important I look good else I’m not leaving my house and accessories save the day I tell you. Quirky but fun accessories usually upgrade what you’re wearing from normal to explosive. I usually get accessories everywhere I go as I find things that appeal to my fashion sense even when I’m not looking, some are expensive and some are ridiculously cheap.

Anyway, those are my basics. I’ve built my office wardrobe around them and it has been pretty amazing. I daresay I look like a boss. A lot has to do with your confidence though. This does it for me but something else may appeal to you. Care to share? Please do.

We Need A Little Respect Around Here


“Respect gives a positive feeling of esteem or deference for a person….To feel or show deferential regard for; to esteem. I’m not concerned with your liking or disliking me… All I ask is that you respect me as a human being”. -Jackie Robinson

I’ve been using social media for some years now, and I can say that it has made my work and networking easier. I have definitely met people who have impacted my life and who have taught me life lessons along the way. Facebook used to be my default social networking platform. My migration from Facebook to Twitter was not easy, but after @MrBankole introduced and explained it to me, I fell in love with Twitter. But I am not here to write about my love for Twitter.

As much as I love the liberty to share thoughts, I have an issue with tweeps (Twitter users) who display a lack of respect for other users. A couple of weeks back, I came on my timeline (TL) to see a tweep insulting and talking down another tweep. I was mortified and angry, but as usual, I didn’t say anything, because it looks like it is becoming a norm – an acceptable practice – in the tweet sphere to be disrespectful. I find this really sad. 

Now, while you and someone may have conflicts, it is bad taste to get on your TL to insult and sometimes curse at them. This is a really shameful thing. Like the quote above says, you don’t need to like me or dislike me. All I ask is to be treated like a human being. Yet I see people meet others on Twitter, and because of difference of opinion, they talk the other person down. My question is, If it were a member of your family, is that how you will talk to the person? To make matters worse, you will see an undergraduate calling a business executive names, all because he/she dignifies by following or interacting with them.

A Word to Disrespectful People

Truth be told, there are some people who follow you that if you met in real life, you won’t even be able to say anything, not because they are gods, but in the hierarchy of life, they are big and you are far down the ladder. Some of these people you talk down at are much bigger than you in real life. Their impact on the society is much more than you can fathom. Were some of them to list their qualifications and achievements, your BSc would be just a piece of paper in comparison. This is why I don’t blame some tweeps who won’t exchange tweet-chat with you because they value their integrity.

From a different angle, how would you feel if a tweep you have insulted and cursed at happen to be the Personnel Manager of a firm you are applying to for a job? You already know the answer, I suppose. You can disagree with someone without being silly about it. Imagine a 23-year old tweep hurling insults at a 36-year old tweep, all because they disagree. If they were your family, would you dare such? Leave social media out of this, our culture is laced with respect for elders and vice versa.

Lastly, to the “Overlords”, your followers are privileges. Were your five thousand followers to just un-follow you, who would you be tweeting at? Treat them with respect. In the words of Albert Einstein “Everyone should be respected as an individual, but no one idolized”.


I am @famuyideolawale 

I am a reader, not a writer


The Trouble With Love

This Love

This Love

I’ve always said my husband is gonna be the most pampered man in world history by a woman. Of course, this may be an exaggerated boast but you can guess the general picture. If you love music like I do, I’m sure you have listened to the song by Destiny’s child-cater to you. That’s the general idea. Now would be a good point to envy him. Yeah yeah.
But it hasn’t really worked out like that thus far. Oh, I date. I fall in love. I experience the ‘ooooh’ and ‘ahhhhh’ moments. The general love thing. Its about the words you tell me. Its about the way you treat me. Its about the look in your eyes when you look at me. Its about the things money can and can’t buy. The thing is, I begin to build my word around you bit by bit. Consciously and unconsciously, you become my happiness factor. My world begins and ends with you. Bliss right? Okay! fa-fa-fa-foul!

My first experience with love was when I was 18. If you gasp, get off my blog. My friend, I was in year 1 and 18 is the legal age for such things so give me a break. He was in year 2 and I thought the stars were in his eyes. He’d cook for me, walk me to class, and told me all the things I wanted to hear.

To cut that story short, it turned out he was dating 5 of us in the same class and the girl’s picture that he was told me was his cousin, turned out to be girlfriend no 1. I should have learned right? Lets talk about the obese medical student who made my sister gasp when she saw his humongous size (errr…she pulled me to a corner and warned me not to ever let him lay on me else I wouldn’t ever need to diet again as I would be squashed beyond redemption).

He was the most intelligent person I knew and he we dated for 5 years before finally having sex. If you were thinking his jingle bells were not working, sorry to disappoint you. All members of my family knew him and they came to like him. He was so courteous to them and gradually my neighbours stopped opening their mouths in shock whenever he came down from his car. The thing is, I never even saw his size. I never noticed that people would always stare at us when we went out. He was the love of my heart and that was that. When he left, I was so sick my sisters had to swallow their desire to prick him with a needle so he could evaporate and call him to come see me. Infact, beg him sef. He didn’t come which is good, cos I don’t think he would have left with complete body parts. My sisters? Never mess with them. Underline that.

“Eseosa, you mean after everything I did to you, someone can still break your heart? Don’t you ever learn?” That was the Idiot’s reaction when he learned that I’d just gone through another heart wrenching relationship and called me. I hope a more courageous girl has punched his lights out on my behalf. But that’s the thing with love.

“…like a drug that makes you blind, it’ll fool you everytime…” I titled this article after the hit song ‘The trouble with love’ by powerful vocalist, Kelly Clarkson. Its one of my favourites. The words are so real and if your love life has been topsy-turvy like mine, then you can totally relate. Love has fooled me many times. They say you can either choose to fall or not but somehow my brain doesn’t function that way. When love calls, I answer. “…I’m sadder but I’m wiser too…I swore I’d never love again…swore my heart would never mend…said love wasn’t worth the pain…but then I heard it call my name…”

I have sworn so many times to stay away from the monster called love. I get closer to my friends, we grab drinks and do the whole jolly good fellow thing. Problem is, my heart never gets the memo “…the trouble with love is…it doesn’t care how fast you fall…and you can’t refuse the call…see you’ve got no say at all…”. See the part about not having a say in it? That sucks!

“…that story always ends the same…Me, standing in the pouring rain…”
That how it always ends. With me anyway. Am I doing something wrong? Am I unlucky in love? Have I just been meeting the wrong guys? I honestly wish I could answer. But no matter the trouble that love brings, somehow we still end up craving it. Oh by the way, I’m in love right now (AGAIN!!!!!) so I’m keeping my fingers crossed. Wish me luck.