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Two Steps Away From the Third Floor

Life Uncategorized August 17, 2024 7 Comments

It’s the day after my birthday, and I found myself doing some reflection (post-birthday clarity). It’s safe to say I’m no longer giddy, though the feeling of happiness hasn’t left me.

While doing my laundry this morning, I remembered the birthday I turned a quarter of a century. In my history of birthdays, that was my most depressing. Well, it started out as the most depressing, but it turned out to be one of my best birthdays ever. My family made that happen, especially my sugar daddies. It felt like my sweet 16. The difference was that I didn’t get a car as a gift. We had a mini celebration at home, and my sugar daddy got me a tiara (I’m not very sure), a pink sash, and a yummy chocolate cake from Nuts About Cakes, with some sparklers on it for some “fireworks.” Then my second sugar daddy and his sweet, sweet wife made my account balance actually balance. Balancing my account balance is a birthday tradition I now look forward to. That same year, I got a big box of beauty and fashion items from my choco princess. So yeah, great birthday.

Then there was last year, when I was intentional about celebrating myself. I knew I wanted to get myself two cakes, look pretty, and do a solo dinner, but I got more than that. It was a wonderful day. I got the cakes, and for the first time in my life, I had a birthday date. So I didn’t have to worry about the solo dinner. And again, for the first time in my life, non-family members gifted me money on my birthday. Even people I didn’t know. I got food too! It was unbelievable. Receiving those gifts felt awkward, I’m not going to lie. It felt good, too.

One thing about my birthday is that it gets better every year. I was so confident that this year’s would be better. But was it better? Yes! In its unique way. I didn’t receive gifts like last year, but my sugar daddy and choco princess didn’t disappoint me. And my birthday celebration continues. To let you know that I’m not joking, I’ve been singing “It’s my birthday; I’m gon do what I like,” and it’s already a day after. Another thing keeping me excited is that I’ll celebrate it next week. So, yay!!

But that’s not the story. Now, here’s the story. My reflection made me realize I’ve come a long way. I’m doing grown-woman stuff, being responsible for myself, and being a good daughter once-once to my mom because I don’t need a big break before she starts to enjoy the fruits of her hard labour. I’ve been taking care of big bills and getting myself stuff when I succeed in talking myself out of being stingy to myself. I’ve also been more generous than ever.

Forget all that talk about being able to afford milk and vegetables in my last blog post. I wasn’t thinking straight because of the overexcitement. My good gracious God! I’m an actual big girl, and I’m just realizing it. I guess this is another sign that my life has been so chill because I’m not been keeping tabs. I’ve been living with the confidence that I never had. The kind you have from knowing you live a life of abundance and will never be stranded to the point you seek intervention.

I’m about to burst with pride over my achievements. Anha! Me sef, I’m not small ke. I’ve made so much progress since my 25th birthday. So much. I’ve had the most heavy debit alerts in the last year, and I’ve never been broke. One way or another, my well never runs dry. My current state of brokeness would be my “very comfortable” in my 25th and 26th years. Reflections are good. I didn’t reflect properly yesterday and was yapping nonsense to you (apologies for the deceit). This doesn’t invalidate or change what I told you previously. I’m just saying that I watered down my progress (forgive me, father for I have sinned).

So, year 27 was a journey. It was super adventurous, too. I stepped out of my comfort zone and loosened up a bit. It was good, but I knew it would be temporary because that wasn’t really me. It’s sad to say that I’ve snapped back to being serious. Well, mostly because I’m now far away from the person who used to motivate me to relass. I may have had an identity crisis briefly, too. I tried to alter some of my traits/perspectives, but it wasn’t just it at all. That short phase was necessary. Very necessary. It helped me realize THIS IS really ME.

The beauty of life is that it is a journey. Sometimes, we must lose some of ourselves to find our true selves. I’m nowhere near my destination. I mean, I’ve spent just 28 years here. There’s so much to learn about myself. It would be an exaggeration to say I’ve only scratched the surface because I haven’t even scratched it. I can’t wait to see what I’ll find when I eventually do.

Life is beautiful, you know? It is beautiful, primarily because of its complexity and gray areas. I’ve been excited and curious to see what I’d find on the third floor, though I have two more steps to deal with. A whole lot can happen between now and that time. A whole lot, and I can’t wait to see it. I know I need to calm down. So, before I leave the second floor, I’ll soak in every moment of 28 and 29. I will run my own race (emphasis on my own).

If there’s one thing I’ve learnt from life, it is that comparison is a thief of joy. It is a major reason many of us lack peace and happiness. You can strive for the future you desire without constantly putting yourself under pressure. You can be content with your present and still work towards a better future (be ambitious). I learnt contentment from my mother. It occasionally annoyed me when I was younger, but it made sense as I grew older.

Lack of contentment will make you constantly compare until you lose your peace and maybe untighten some screws in your head. Comparisons will happen, but don’t let it drag. Don’t let it linger and steal your peace. When it happens, take the motivation, thank God for the present, and move on! I know it can be hard, but try. Inugo? If you don’t understand Igbo, ask your Igbo friends to interpret for you. And if you don’t have any, go get yourself one, two, or a thousand.

**Just change the “23” to “’96”** ***and you’ll have the day this star was born***

Finally, happy birthday to me again. It doesn’t matter that my birthday was yesterday; I’ll continue celebrating until I’m satisfied. Peace be unto you, my fan. Cheers!

And, oh, I’m still living on my terms and conditions. That hasn’t changed and will never change. If it does, I’ll update you. You can also catch up on my previous birthday entries by clicking on the following:

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18 Again: Aging Like Premium Wine

Life Uncategorized August 16, 2024 8 Comments

Look who made it to another chapter! What can I say? There’s no sob story this year. No melancholy. No near-depression. I feel free and liberated. The chains that held me bound fell off somewhere along the road leading to road 28. This might just be my shortest birthday entry.

If you see this, you have Tosin and Karunwi to thank for motivating me to get over my excitement and write a madafecking entry. Lol! I should have done this last night but was too excited to think. Even now, I don’t have enough words. This girl is just happy to be here.

I clock 18 for the second time in my life today. I feel free, young, alive, and happy. Can you believe it?! I’d been dreaming of this day, and here we are. Let me tell you, I am now a certified graduate. And right now, I’m somewhere in the East obeying Clarion Chukwura’s call. I’m lying on the floor of the room whose bare walls I finally painted yesterday, with my phone plugged into a cheap extension as I write this. The birthday girl needs to keep her phone charged, you know. Painting the room, which is temporarily mine, is one of my birthday gifts to myself. I grudgingly parted ways with the money to get the work done. Thankfully, my good friend gifted me some money to reduce my chest pain.

I’m 18 again but with 10 bonus years at the side. I’m sure my good aunties and big mummies are worried about my marital status. They suddenly realized I’m not the baby girl I sell myself as after my convocation, and became interested in my non-existent love life. I’ve probably become that old auntie they include in morning devotional prayers to find the bone of her bone and flesh of her flesh before she expires. It’s okay. It’s alright. This life na turn by turn. But no, on a serious note, I’m just 18. You find the idea obscene, too, right? I mean, my breasts are barely fully formed.

I’ve also not started earning huge six figures. You won’t believe that at this my young age, I’m surviving on the 33k the government pays me and some 2-2k here and there. This was not the goal for this age, but baby steps.

I’ve not gotten any awards, rented or bought and furnished an apartment, have no car, haven’t bagged my dream man or more degrees, haven’t gotten that big job, and currently live in a house in the village that made me shed tears and blood when I first saw it. I can’t remember the last time I bought a luxurious item. This is certainly a far cry from what teenage Ekata painted for this age. But you know what? I’m up and grateful! (Kindly insert one of those up-and-grateful TikTok videos). Those things don’t even stress me because they aren’t out of reach. I can achieve all those things in the twinkle of an eye. It’s all timing. But this peace that I have, this beauty, this glow? They are not as easy to get, but I have them easily. And that’s the real flex. I mean, I can still afford to always have milk and buy my fruits and veggies. What more can a girl ask for?

I’m still far from where I want to be, but I’ve had plenty of happy days. I’ve been at peace, the kind that makes people ask for my skincare routine. God has been very faithful, you know. He’s been holding my hands and has never let me go. Even when it felt like he did, he was right there, allowing me to trust the process. You know that song that says, “I’ve got joy in chaos, I’ve got peace that makes no sense”? That summarizes my life in the past year. On some days, I wish I could bottle some of the peace I feel and share with my friends.

Guess what! I looked forward to this birthday so much that my frugal self was willing to break her safe for a 3-5 day vacation (or is it staycation you call it?) somewhere in the South or East of Nigeria. The only reason that didn’t leave my planner is laziness. I just couldn’t bring myself to do it alone. It would have been achievable if I were in cities I’m familiar with. As I write, I’m tempted to buy this fine hair I’ve been looking away from. That’s how excited I am. I just want to pamper myself and give myself some good loving. Me sef don try! It’s just very unfortunate that the fun places I could go to in my current location are quite a distance. Again, I’m writing more than I started to. So let’s wrap it up.

On this birthday, I’m thankful for the life of ease and peace God has given me. I’m thankful for my beautiful-beautiful and supportive family. I’m thankful for supportive friends. I’m thankful for my current community in Ogbunike, which has given me so much love. I’m thankful for my physical beauty that took the 2024 theme, no gree for anybody, very seriously. I’m thankful for the chance God has given me to impact young girls (I pray for the grace to maximize it). I’m thankful for my razz, classless laughter. I’m thankful for Tosin, one of the most intentional friends the universe has blessed me with. Finally, I’m thankful for my beautiful future that patiently awaits me.

So, I’m raising my glass (actually, I don’t have a glass. I own just one ceramic cup that my parish priest at my PPA gave me to settle in when I just arrived here. But it still works for a toast, right?) to the good life. To ease. To peace. To love. To beauty.

My tea-stained ceramic cup featuring my newly painted wall. — **A toast to the good things that await me with a homemade banana milkshake in my tea-stained ceramic cup, featuring my newly painted wall.**

Happy birthday to me, the apple of God and Akhere’s eyes—the untouchable, the one who carries a light that can blind evil eyes. Lol. Please, I need to drop this phone. This girl is giddy with happiness.

Here’s a list of my birthday songs for 2024:

***My mood for the whole day. But I wish I could actually party tonight.***

Birthday– Ann-Marie
Dependable God– Victor Thompson
Goodness of God– Cece Winans

A special shout out to my special birthday mates: my late best friend, Ojorane, and my sistuurh, Jadesola.

PS: There’s no such thing as too much love, especially today. So, drown me in it. Tenks!

Finding a Husband Who Loves Rainbows

Beauty Life Uncategorized September 20, 2023 3 Comments

Light-skinned, eloquent, stylish, beautiful, and brilliant. Those are words I’d describe Mrs. Okafor with. She was what this generation of kids would call a baddie principal. The woman had style and class and obviously had a thing for the colours “wine” and red. Think of DJ Cuppy, but the red-obsessed version. We could say DJ Cuppy is to pink, and Mrs. Okafor is to red.

Whatever hairstyle she had or was going to have, one thing was certain: it would be red. Her perm, braids, and weave-ons were all red. Her car was red and slick, too. I found myself wanting to be like her “when I grow up.” “Grow up” being when I graduate from secondary school and start to grow my hair.

***BTS of my second convocation shoot***

I was really excited to start growing my hair and have my own signature hair colour. I wanted red or ginger, especially red because the baddie principal made it such a cool colour. I had this conversation with my mom when I eventually got to SSS3, and she was excited for me. Once I finished school and started to grow my hair to a certain length, we’d dye my hair red. That was our agreement.

The time would eventually come, and I’d grow my hair for three years without executing my grand plan. Even my mother wondered why. I was scared of damaging my hair and kept procrastinating. It became much harder to pull off when I started my natural hair journey three years later. I lived that dream through colourful extensions, and my favourites were purple and blue before I added green to the list. Red didn’t even make it.

Fast forward to nine or ten years since I had that conversation with my mom: I would be ready.
I was upset by the state of my natural hair, which I had grown for four years. It was severely damaged, and I had two options: to cut it off or to trim and loc it before eventually cutting and starting over. However, I felt a need to get a new colour. Now was the time. I was ready. I’d already decided to go ginger. For the longest time, I’d admired ginger heads. I preferred it to blonde. It was either that or purple or green, which seemed extreme to me.

One would think I’d get my mother’s full blessing and even extra when I informed her of my plan. I even sent pictures of the loc styles I was considering. Her response made me want to ask for my real mother, because there was no way the woman talking behind my phone was Iye Ekata.

How do you go from cheering your daughter’s idea of dying hair to saying it was irresponsible? This was the same woman who had the hack of using eyeshadow to temporarily tint a part of her short hair blonde when she was younger. I was mad at whoever she had been rolling with in my absence. They were bad influence and had corrupted the woman’s good manners.

I was upset. I didn’t like her new perspective, but I understood her and respected it. According to her, as a young, unaccomplished girl, no one would take me seriously if I went around with coloured hair, especially coloured locs. Thanks to profiling. I argued that there are very successful and respectable women with coloured hair who are doing well. She agreed, but didn’t think taking a chance on it was wise. She said I should be done with school and be well placed first before deciding I want to look like a tout or pepper seller.

She added, “When you get married, you can do whatever you want if your husband likes it. If you like dye it rainbow, wear your nonsense…” By the way, the poor woman doesn’t approve of my skin-revealing outfits because responsible people don’t dress like that. We’ve had several arguments and agreed that I’ll only be “irresponsible” away from her to avoid arguments. Wait until she finds out I wear anklets. Anyway, when I’m in Rome, I behave like a Roman.

But why am I telling you this? I’m telling you because I need help. I need a husband urgently because the strong urge to go ginger has revisited me. Who knows a man who wouldn’t mind his wife carrying a rainbow on her head and wearing irresponsible outfits? The irresponsible outfit is not even an issue. I’m nearing the age and era where I will evolve into a different style. This phase shall pass, but the need to play around with my hair will not and shall not. Just like my love for accessorizing with cowries shall never die.

So, dear friend, if you know any man who fits this description or you are the man, help my life and donate them or yourself to me. In fact, I’m donating myself. And please, don’t ask me what I’ll bring to the table. All I can offer is a chair with four balanced legs.

Update

Several weeks after writing this, my mother visited me, saw my decorated ankle, shook her head, and gently said in our dialect, “Child, you don’t need all these things you’re doing, ehn. People will think you are irresponsible even if you’re not.” She went on to add that she didn’t have a problem with what I did with myself. The woman was only concerned about how the world would perceive me.

She thinks I might have a problem finding a man who will take me seriously enough to marry me. Again, she said, “If the person you’re seeing or your husband doesn’t mind, wear whatever you like. So long as he likes it.” Then I responded with, “Don’t worry, he will like anklets.” She mistook that for, “I have a man, and he likes the nonsense I wear.”

Looking back at her excitement, I can’t help but smile. With a sheepish smile, she said, “Enh, that’s good. If there’s a man in the picture and he likes it, that’s fine.” I started to laugh and quickly corrected the impression. I had to let her know that her big baby is a single pringle.

By the way, I own a ginger hair now, and my mom loves it. After all, it is not my real hair. As much as I like to be a coconut head sometimes, I know my mom has my best interests at heart, even if I don’t necessarily agree with some of her perspectives. And to be honest, I totally understand her standpoint.

With all that being said, I’m looking for a responsible, God-loving man who likes his woman wearing a rainbow on her head and beads on her ankles and waist. For serious business only. Tenks.

No Coincidences Here: Que Sera, Sera

Uncategorized August 16, 2023 6 Comments

It’s the morning of my birthday, and I’m happy. This is the first in a very long time. It is my first anxiety-free birthday since my 18th, and it is such a beautiful feeling. In the past, my anxiety would have started in the last week of June and heightened until the very day. I never really enjoyed my birthdays until towards the end of the day, when I’m overwhelmed with so much love and something has entered my bank account from my sponsors.

The gist is that I was very much looking forward to this day, but something almost stole my joy last night; a simple Instagram notification from my successor as Head Girl in secondary school. It said, “The President of the Old Girls Association asked for your contact details as the HG of the 2013 set, and I sent her your IG details.” My heart staggered for a bit, and I laughed out loud after it found balance. The message almost made me feel like a failure. Why? I’ll tell you.

Here’s why; head girls are known to do great things after secondary school, and they’re hardly ever mediocre in life. I heard tales of my predecessors and how well they were doing. My confidence that I’d do even greater things was over 100. I was pretty sure I’d be a big thing, and I looked forward to it. In fact, I could not wait to attend our 60th anniversary as an old girl. Even more excitedly, I couldn’t wait for our ten-year reunion. I couldn’t wait to return as an old girl to give a speech and motivate young girls on the same stage where I made announcements as head girl. The “proud head girl.”

I thought I’d be very involved in activism, volunteering, supporting NGOs, and all that. That was me. That was my kind of thing—being a spokesperson and standing up for and using my voice for a cause I believe in. It explains why I am very drawn to people who walk that path. I’m laughing at myself as I write because that girl left me somewhere along the line. Maybe left is not the right word; went into a coma is more like it.

I clock a new age today, and it’s been ten years since I logged out of secondary school as an overly confident girl. I really liked school before it humbled me. I loved education and looked forward to getting a PhD. In my plan for my future, this was the age I targeted to get my PhD. Guess what. Instead of a PhD, I’m just getting my BSc. Sad, no? Right. Very sad.

So yeah, when I got that message, it sort of dampened my high spirits, but not for long. In fact, the plan was to pretend I never got the message and ignore it for as long as possible, but then, I am Ekata. The confrontational one who likes being accountable. So I responded because I no kill person, na just blow I never blow. I still dey alive, so I go still blow, my blowing acceleration just slow. That’s it. It’s funny that I’m now excited about and looking forward to whatever they need me for; if it’s only my service I can contribute, I’ll give it a 110% as usual.

A screenshot of DANG’s Instagram post that resonated with me: 1

Anyway, I’m grateful for an anxiety-free birthday. I’m thankful for the events before this day. Last year was my most carefree year. I sort of threw morals under the bed. I excitedly made what my moral self would call “bad decisions” and often chose not to be sensible or correct. So far, I do not regret any of my actions. I must say that not being uptight and sensible is a tough task for one who is used to making sensible or near-perfect decisions. I am happy. I have my moments too, but I’m mostly happy. Life hasn’t been perfect or great, but my creator has been faithful. Life keeps getting better.

My previous chapter helped me discover that I enjoy being gifted without asking for it. Why did it take me so long? It’s because I have finally reduced my rate of “don’t worry.” So I’m including “receiving gifts” in my love languages. Why do I even have to choose? Henceforth, I understand all love languages. If I have to delete one, it might be physical touch. I’m learning to be a fan. I’ve been working on that lately. So watch out for my next “birthday report.”

***Just a fine girl being a fine girl***

I must say that, like wine, I age beautifully, and I mean physical beauty. The older I get, the more beautiful I become. I’m amazed by it. As for wisdom, I don’t really know. I still insist I was much wiser as a teenager (don’t give me that look; I’m being serious, though sometimes I doubt that I really believe this. I sound confused, right? Yeah. Typical me).

If you read my last birthday reflection, one of my prayers was to experience two-sided love. To not just be loved but to love in return with as much intensity. I think being able to completely fall in love and allow yourself to soak in it is an underestimated gift. Well, I guess my prayers got answered earlier this year, but I think I should have been more specific (inserts “we found love in a hopeless place” as background music). So I’m going to revisit that prayer point and wait for God to do his thing.

Because I’m not trying to write a long essay like the last time, I’ll wrap things up soon because if I really express myself as I’d love to, the scrolling might seem unending. I’m thankful for the last chapter. It only gets better from here. To the one who never leaves me stranded and has consistently shown me soft love, thank you.

If you’re wondering what the relationship between the title and the content of my post is, you may stop wondering now. It’s just my favourite saying from my last chapter. It looks like I’ll be taking it with me and sticking with it in this new chapter because how else will I continue making “bad decisions” with my full chest? So if you need motivation to make those not-so-good life choices, remember, “There are no coincidences in life.” Maybe you are meant to make those mistakes.

A screenshot of DANG’s Instagram post that resonated with me: 2

Finally, I wish myself a very happy birthday. I’m on a journey of self-discovery; I pray for clarity and discernment. I pray to always have the ability to hear God when he speaks to me. When I make mistakes, I pray they do not scar me but mould me instead. I pray for immense growth physically, mentally, spiritually, and financially. And may my Chi always be in agreement with me.

Of course, I cannot end this without wishing my Ojorane a happy heavenly birthday and my Sistuuurrh, the branding queen, a happy birthday. I’m blessed to have met and experienced them.

Cheers to the good, bad, beautiful, and ugly! But more to the good and beautiful.

Between Butterflies, Dreams, and Babies

Life Uncategorized May 31, 2023 3 Comments

Would you laugh if I told you I worry a lot about my children when I don’t even have any? It may sound ridiculous, but it is true that I worry about them. I care a lot about being a good mother to my kids and providing them with an equally good or even better father. As a matter of fact, I have already found a godfather for my first child. I mean, if I can’t marry this man to be the father of my kids, I might as well get him involved in at least one of my kid’s life. Are you wondering how we got here? I’ll tell you.

“Godfather” ticks almost every box for my future partner, the father of my kids. To say he’s brilliant would be an understatement because he’s, in fact, a genius. He’s got the looks, good fashion sense, a good sense of humour, great profession and alladat. But what caught my attention, aside from his brilliance, was his heart and emotional intelligence. He is an empathetic human who knows how to treat people with respect. He is kind and gracious, and I do not doubt his genuineness.

He’s the kind of man I see myself raising kids with. An excellent example for a son and daughter. For a son because he would see what a proper man should be like and grow up to be an even better version. For a daughter because she would see how he treats her and her mother and not expect less from men when she is older.

But why am I settling for the role of godfather to my child rather than husband to me? Well, well. First, I don’t consider myself his type—not like I know his type, but I assume his type would be a genius, and trust me, I’m not that. Of course, I’m a smartass, but not genius level. Secondly, we might also bore each other out (I don’t know why I think so). I also do not know if I like him in that way. I’ve never bothered to find out, but I know I greatly respect and admire him.

This doesn’t mean he doesn’t stand a chance to be my husband and father of my kids because all those “excuses” are nothing. Actually, he’s on my list of potential husbands (I promise I’m not crazy). I just need to be the woman of my dreams first before I start chasing these men of my dream.

As much as I’d love to do forever with someone I’m helplessly in love with, that is secondary for me compared to having a good husband and an even better father. If I find myself a man who would be a near-perfect father and good husband, I’m dragging him to the altar. Butterflies will grow later. So long we like each other, and there’s a good level of sexual attraction and respect, I think we’re good. I’ve come to learn that in life, we can’t always have it all (sighs in sadness). Even Adekunle Gold said, “Love is not enough.”

That’s how much I love my children still waiting to be born. Sometimes, I’m convinced that being a mother is a core reason for my existence (I do not think it is the same for everyone). And over time, I’ve realized it doesn’t necessarily have to be children from my fertilized egg. I’ve always had a thing for nurturing. It is why, when planning my future at sixteen, I dreamed of having a family of six children, three born and three adopted or four born and two adopted. I also had plans to start a foundation for orphans, less privileged children, or children with single parents. I don’t even mind being a stepmom.

I know how challenging parenting can be, but I’d still love to be one. In fact, it can be exhausting. Still, I want to be responsible for other responsible humans who would also raise responsible humans. I want to invest a lot of love into some little humans who will grow up to do the same. It might seem delusional, but I want to create an incorruptible cycle.

I want to be good people who would birth and raise other good people with another good people. But the evil in the world sometimes scares me and makes me rethink my choice of wanting to be a mother. Honestly, there have been times when I decided I won’t birth or raise any child cos I may not be able to forgive myself if the evil in the world hurts them or they become the evil themselves. It’s crazy, I know.

I also want to be a career woman and be up there. At the same time, I want to be a very present mother. I want always to be there to shield them from the world’s evils. I want them to feel and know the love of homemade meals (I’m not too fond of cooking, but anything for my babies). You might say some have done it before me and succeeded, but if we’re being honest, one of the two would always suffer for the other. Well, well. I guess I’ll cross that hurdle when I get there, or I’ll just run away. Until then, let me go back to curating my list of potential husbands.

PS: I didn’t mention something about my relationship with “Godfather.” No, I’m not about to say it because you’d either laugh at me or think I need therapy because I must be crazy. I guess I’ve just successfully piqued your curiosity. Still not telling you. I just hope he knows I wasn’t joking when he agreed to be godfather to my child. Who knows? He might be lucky enough to get upgraded to father instead of godfather. May God spare our lives till then.

This Is Real. This Is Me

Uncategorized April 30, 2023 6 Comments

You know, certain things or traits will make me lose myself if taken from me. First is my ability to be expressive. I can be a “hard girl.” A really hard one, but I’ve been trying to allow my softness to flourish since 2022. So I’m a work in progress. But as unavailable as I can be, I never fail to acknowledge my feelings. If I like you, find you attractive, enjoy spending time or conversing with you, or you turn me on, I’ll let you know. Still doesn’t mean I want to get involved with you. And if letting you know how I feel about you makes you think I’m easy, that’s your cup of Alomo Bitters.

By the way, when I say I like you, it’s not the same as “I’m in love with you.” I actually just like you. It could be for your personality, reasoning, poise and style, or big heart. Don’t try reading between the lines that do not exist (I am addressing both genders, in case you’re a girl and I tell you I like you. I promise I don’t want to “get into your pants.” Heck, I don’t even want to see your pants because Anambra men have me on a chokehold).

My expressiveness is what makes me address issues that bother me. It is why my heart never bears a grudge; I address things immediately or almost immediately. If I feel disrespected, I’ll call you out. If I admire something about you, I’ll tell you. If you make me uncomfortable, I’ll let you know. If I find something you’re doing pleasurable or not, I’ll ask you to continue or stop. In short, I’m confrontational.

The few times I wasn’t confrontational were when I was extra sensitive to the mental state of those involved and decided to be selfless after asking my favourite question of reason, “Is it worth it? Can you manage without confronting this person?” Looking back, I’m glad I could take some steps back in moments like that. I mean, people go through stuff, and I don’t want to add to it because of an inconvenience that can be overlooked.

Second is my ability to resist with my full chest without fear of being disliked or considered stingy, unkind, or difficult. “No” is probably the easiest thing for me to say. I’m not kidding when I say it is always at the tip of my tongue. That and “I don’t know” used to be default answers, especially when I’m not interested in conversing. You know, sometimes, when I ponder and see the amount of manipulation around me, I’m thankful for my independent mind and ability to say “no” and “I don’t want to” without feeling unsure or funny. Don’t bother guilt-tripping me; save your energy. The only thing that would make me change my mind is reason and fairness.

Third is my ability to walk away from people or situations that try to reduce my worth, threaten my peace, or shake my confidence. I don’t care who you are. I don’t care if I love you with my heart, brain, and kidney; I will walk away.

I don’t know how people stay in a place where they are not appreciated. I really can’t wrap my head around it. This is not me being condescending. No, it’s just a situation I’ve never been in and can’t relate to. I have little to zero tolerance for bullshit. While I am competitive, there are things you won’t catch me competing for. My chi forbids it. I love me some healthy competition. When competing with you, I make it known and will even cheer you if you give me a good run. But you see competing for attention and affection? Abomination!

Not to be arrogant, but I was raised with so much love and attention (you’re probably tired of hearing this) that I can’t take anything less. I grew up loved. I was loved in the family, church, school, and most spaces. Mind you, I didn’t say I was loved by everyone, but the ones who loved me loved me big and treated me with respect. I couldn’t stand and didn’t take disrespect as a child; I’m not about to change that in my old age. I’m huge on being treated with respect.

So you see, I do not like to be ‘managed.’ In fact, I will not be ‘managed.’ I’m self-aware; I know when I’m it and when I’m not. I will not lie to myself in the name of self-love. So if you think I’m not “it” enough for you to be the first choice in your life, ama gon walk out. If I carry myself as “all that,” and you think I’m overrating myself, then I’m certainly not the one for you. I won’t cut off my toes for the shoes to fit. My shoe size may be scarce, but it does exist. So why cut off my toes when I can keep searching for the ones that fit, even if not perfectly?

Well, I have a confession: If it’s a child’s attention we’re talking about, I will compete shamelessly for it. An L from a child is one of the few Ls that actually get to me. I can stay up at 3am thinking about what I did to be rejected, because it’s me! And children love me just as much as I love them.

One of the stories from the Bible that never sat well with me was the one where you turn your other cheek for a balanced slap. I remember my little self after CRK saying, “If you slap me on my left cheek, I will slap you on your right and left cheeks,” with a don’t-try-nonsense-with-me expression. “What kind of madness is that? When I’m not a fool,” I would think in my head. It’s not like I could even fight. I just had a sharp mouth and confident demeanour that made people think I’d actually beat them to a pulp if they tried nonsense.

What I’m trying to say is that while I’m not exactly a vengeful person, I’ll stress you if you stress me. No, I won’t pay evil with evil, I will just stress you in multiples by default. If you please me, I will go as far as taking off my shoulder pads and doing things I do not enjoy just to see you happy. I don’t even plan these things; they are natural responses. In other words, “wickedness” and “extreme sweetness” come naturally. I just find myself exhibiting them, depending on your subscription plan. Blessed are those who have never seen my nasty side; I pray you never see it.

Even I get amazed at how I can close my heart in certain situations and not feel a thing. Remember, for every action, there is an equal reaction. If you bring foolishness my way, I will give you treatment deserving of a foolish person. Basically, you get what you seek with me. To God be the glory; the older I get, the less potent my wickedness. So the fourth is that if you give me a general market, you’ll get pick two, suspension, hold on, and I check up. Do you get? If you don’t gerrit, forgerrebaurit!

The fifth and final is my heart. I have a lot of heart, and it makes me appreciate the little not-so-little things. It makes me appreciate life and the minute details. I have a heart full of so much love to give; it is not a facade. While I may not be available romantically, I have lots of love to give. I think my mom planted a fruitful seed of love in there. It is why I love to nurture and provide care to the elderly and people with special needs. It gives me so much joy and satisfaction, even when it isn’t always enjoyable.

I see people. I respect people because they are people, not for their titles, which could be a plus. Yes, that’s me, and that’s what makes me ME. What makes you YOU?

A Story of Art Meeting Art

Beauty Random Uncategorized March 31, 2023 16 Comments

Art. It makes the world worth living. Art in forms of paintings, writing, fashion, music, and nature. Art in human form. That’s right. Every form of art makes life worth living. I am obsessed with art, so it isn’t surprising that I am also a beautiful piece of it. “You are what you’re attracted to.” –Ekata, 2023. But I beg you, quote me at your own risk. I shall not be held responsible for the ridicule you may attract.

For the first time in my 73 years of schooling here, I attended a proper social function. You know why? It was all about the arts! I was super excited when my friend shared the flyer with me, asking if I’d be free. Of course, I would. It didn’t matter that I had to put work on hold. We are talking about art and music fusion. For free, for that matter. Hell, yes! I was free.

I arrived the event looking like one of the exhibits, registered, and got in to feed my eyes and soul with some creations human with just one head like me made.

As I walked around waiting for the acts to begin their performances, I stumbled upon some artists painting a couple of people’s faces. I thought those people were models for the event, so I sat and admired them, wishing I could have my face painted too. I was impressed by a particular young man’s painting; I had to compliment him and the model.

When I noticed people from planets away approaching the artist, whom I had complimented, to have their faces painted, I was like, “Enhen?! Before my eyes?” I was forced to go ask him if anyone could have their face painted, and I got a positive answer. Without thinking, I asked if I could get one. So I waited my turn with the excitement of a child. I even caught myself bouncing.

While waiting, Ekata, the worrier, showed up. You know what her concerns were? “What if my skin reacts to their paint and breaks out?” “But I haven’t taken good pictures yet. If I get to paint my face now and I find someone to take my pictures later, I’ll be left with only pictures of me with painting.” Ekata, the art lover, instantly shut the worrier up with irritation.

It was finally my turn. “Just do anything you think would fit my face,” I told the artist. With a smile of acknowledgement, the artist held my face gingerly and started to paint, but there was a problem. He was really struggling to paint smoothly. “Your face is oily,” he said, looking concerned. Of course, it was expected since I splashed 21 litres of coconut oil on my face and whole body before the event.

Thankfully, I had a small towel in my purse, so I took it out, wiped the part he was trying to paint on, and made the devil weep. Of course, it’s always better to blame the devil than the actual culprit.

So we go again, he holds my face with the gentleness of a lover and begins to paint, and my heart starts to bla-bla-blu. He suddenly felt too close to me, and it began to feel like we had been on it for hours. At some point, I think my heart crawled to my cheeks, then to my eyes, and back to its original position.

Minutes (it was probably seconds) into the painting, I let out a smile that I had been holding back for fear of ruining the process and let him know I was really nervous. He gave back a knowing smile, like he could sense the several bombs ticking off in my body and told me I had no reason to be. I was slightly embarrassed when he smiled back and wondered what he was thinking.

I had always known I wouldn’t make a great face model, but I became more confident at that moment. I don’t know how to be still. I can be a shaky-shaky auntie, especially when work is being done around my eyes. If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought I was helplessly in love with this lovely young man because what happened at that moment is precisely how Silhouette and Harlequin books would describe a scene between potential lovers trying to mask their true emotions.

When he finally finished painting my face, he proceeded to paint my arm as I requested. Guess what I got. A flame-like painting, as the queen of flames that I am. When he finished, I thanked him for the painting and asked for a picture with him. I should have asked for his phone number or Instagram handle too. I totally loved both paintings. Anyway, I went on to enjoy the rest of the activities, feeling like the finest piece of art in the room cos “new painting, new me.”

I watched a talented artist do some live drawings of random people, took in the spoken word poetry performed to open the event, and was blown away by the dance performances—which got me teary at some point—the music performances, and the bands.

***The artist, his muse, and his art.***

While thoroughly enjoying the performances by one of the bands/instrumentalists, the gbedu fully entered my body. I found my rhythmless self moving energetically to Lagbaja’s Konko Below. Can you believe it? I forgot to be shy or conscious. That should tell you how much I enjoyed my time at the event. To think that I almost gave in to the urge to stay in bed, away from the sun. It would have taken me 27 years to forgive myself. It was indeed a day to remember.

Special thanks to Aggie for the invitation. May your life always be colourful and exciting.

A Lonely Valentine’s Day

Uncategorized February 15, 2023 12 Comments

***Pretty Oghenerunor, the sole sponsor of my loneliness.***

Alexa! Please, play me “Lonely” by Akon.

I hate to admit that this was a lonely Valentine’s. I’ve never felt lonely on Valentine’s Day because I consider it another day of facing shege or whatever. You know, when people talk “Valentine’s,” I’m always indifferent. I mean, I’ve never really cared much for it—not like I’m a hater or anything close. I just don’t see the point in having expectations knowing it could be a setup for grand disappointment. But today was different. I felt lonely. And this loneliness was independently sponsored by Oghenerunor.

Do you remember those days in secondary school when everyone in a class was paired and mandated to bring gifts for their partners? Those were the times I was closest to getting gifts, but guess what! I never got one. Every time I picked a partner, it was always one from a background where they didn’t care about things like that. So no gift!

I, on the other hand, would beat myself up trying to give a worthy gift. But there was one time I managed to get a card from my partner, and I was pleasantly surprised. I kept it for a long time and occasionally hugged it to my chest whenever I saw it. I won’t be surprised if I still have it saved with some mushy notes I got in school.

I had a culture of getting girls, whom I admired and thought were amazing gifts. I went to an all-girls school, by the way. I got presents for at least two people every Valentine’s until I ran out of people I admired in that way. Maybe if I had accepted the school mother and school daughter applications, my story would have been different. I was quite stern and didn’t give room for all that foolishness. I didn’t even have a best friend. So I guess the blame is on me.

***A lonely girl and her saviour, The EF! Overall best in giving warm hugs.***

Fast forward to adulthood, and I still can’t relate to all this Valentine’s Day drama. Delivery for me ke! It’s either a prank or kidnappers in disguise trying to get me, because how’s that even possible? Lol. Okay, maybe it’s my bad character that is doing me. I have pursued all my potential Valentines. It is why I will be shocked to my bone marrow if I get a surprise from “man.” But what about my gender? Am I that much of a terrible person? Or you think I don’t like to be surprised? You all can do better. I’ll give you next year to right your wrongs. Else…

Anyway, I actually had plans for this year’s Valentine’s. I wanted to get specific gifts for people who have treated me with nothing but kindness and those I admire and respect (my list included some of my teachers). Unfortunately, life happened. Expenses here and there, and I just knew going ahead with the plan would be really foolish. So maybe next year, God willing.

I really love to gift people; money is just usually an obstacle. Hopefully, I’m in a better place financially next year. I would have still gone ahead with one of my plans, but today just wasn’t it for me. I guess I’ll celebrate Valentine’s Day with this deserving person this weekend.

Well, now that Valentine’s is over, we’re all back on the same level, right? Thinking back on my day, aside from MTN deciding to go on a date for hours, leaving me stranded and unable to do any meaningful work, my day wasn’t totally bad. My highlights were the Valentine’s reminder of how special I am from loved ones and my mom’s call wishing me a happy Valentine’s Day. I swear, that woman is adorable! It made me so happy and warm.

***My pre-Valentine’s gift from The EF of Lagurrrz!***

Oh, I almost forgot to mention that I got a gift just before Valentine’s from one of the world’s best huggers. The gift really got to the corners of my heart. I mean, I got a note! Shoutout to EF for the beautiful gift. Come to think of it, I’ve gotten the most gifts from him in recent times (excluding family). He is such a gifter. Let me just have money first; I will be supporting his travel and vacation ministry.

By the way, I’m currently listening to some beautiful soul classics that make me crave a candle-lit dinner with red wine and someone who makes me blush like a thousand wild roses, so much that I wouldn’t be able to hold his gaze for long for fear that he’d see how much he has me wrapped round his fine fingers. Now, look whose “V-Day” is getting better!

***A list of my companions on a dark lonely Valentine’s night.***

Anyway, it’s okay. There’s no pressure. I will do this thing with someone who makes my heart race and my pulse thump someday. One who makes me tingle with electrons of attraction and fills my comb with honey. And it will not be basic. No, it won’t. He will be intentional and thoughtful too. I’ll wait. I’ll not be impatient. It will be beautiful. I don’t know when someday will be, but someday.

***My post-Valentine’s gift from The EF. Ain’t I a lucky lonely girl?***

Here comes the part where I conclude my sad story of a lonely Valentine’s Day.

To the sweethearts and lovers, I hope your love grows stronger. I’m rooting for you cos I’m a shameless shipper of love. To the ones with bad character like me, you too, change! Stop being wicked. No gifts, no notes, no text messages. Anha! At least I got sweet messages from my friends. I’m not such a terrible person after all. So you can do better. Yes, you! Change!

I know it’s way too late, but Happy Valentine’s Day to you, my loves (every day is Valentine’s for us, right?). May your next Valentine’s Day be better. And if you still don’t receive gifts or treats by next year, I hope your friends and neighbors get some and share them with you. At all at all, na hin bad pass.

To a better Valentine’s Day. Cheers.

The Stranger Cycle Story

Poetry or Something Like That Uncategorized January 31, 2023

The Poem

Isn’t it funny how a total stranger suddenly becomes your favourite person in a matter of minutes? You want to know everything about them, from their favourite things to do to the size of their small intestine.

In the new world you’ve created with stranger turned “fave,” time is non-existent. They become the God you pray to, day and night. They become the memes you never knew you needed to make you laugh. They become the priest who patiently listens to your wrongs and grants you penance. They become the monastery that gives you space to reflect and gain clarity.

A minute becomes a week. One week graduates to a month. Several months come and go, and as usual, fave begins to fade into stranger once again.

The frequency of chats drops drastically. You no longer send each other random things. Slowly, the fire burns out. Slowly, the colour fades. Slowly, another one falls and bites the dust. You’ve once again lost another beautiful relationship. And again, you rinse and repeat because the cycle must continue.

You are not about making people stay. You are about experiencing them. So, if they stay, to God be the glory. If they fade, you hold on to the happiness they brought you and thank God for making them star in your journey.

On this note, shall we drink to meeting more strangers who may fade or stay? Cos, I will.

The Story

This piece was inspired by the many amazing people who have come into and left my life, but the two amazing people I connected with in 2022 had the most influence.

For the first time in my life, I was forced to be intentional about a relationship. Let me explain. I can be very lax regarding relationships, not because I don’t care but because I’m big on never forcing things or begging people to stay. Or maybe I’m just really lazy.

I could talk about you all day and year to people about how much of an amazing person you are and how much I really like you. I could think of you occasionally, hoping you are fine and whisper a prayer for you to God. I could really, really, really like you and would always be prepared to catch you, give you my ears and shoulders, and make sacrifices for you.

I could do all of that and not talk to you for several months. I know, I know. My actions don’t match my words. However, I don’t throw the words “I love you” around recklessly. When I say them, you better believe that I actually do. I know my actions often contradict them, but please, believe me when I tell you those words.

I conversed with one of the two amazing people I mentioned earlier when we were growing apart. I said I don’t consider myself a ride-or-die friend. “I am a die-or-die friend.” That sounds ridiculous, right? I may not necessarily ride with you and be actively present when I’m certain you are good or want to do fun things. Still, you can always count on me to show up on dreary days or days when you need support or someone to listen to you. You can always bank on my loyalty.

I don’t know if that is a bad thing, but I realized that’s the kind of friend I am after some reflection.

Amazing Person One

Like I said earlier, I tried to save a relationship for the first time in my life. I dropped the “if it slips, it slips” attitude. Why did I care so much about this relationship? Why did I care so much? I’ll tell you.

I met my friend through a friend who thought, “Oh, you two will get along well,” because we had similar interests, and above all, we are both lovers of Lady CNA. He calls her his mama; I call her my dear friend. Before we became friends, I was a fan. I admired his thought process and how he strung words together to express his thoughts. The first time we met, we immediately clicked. It honestly didn’t feel like the first time.

You wouldn’t believe where we had our first “date.” I smile as I write. It was nothing fancy, and we only spent money on transportation, and, oh boy, I didn’t want to return home. We talked about mermaids and other nonsense while being mesmerized by the beauty of the sea and fascinated by the lifestyle of the crabs.

He came into my life, and I knew I wanted it to last forever. Our friendship, for me, was wholesome. It was the first of its kind for me; the kind I’ve only read about in books and seen in movies. It was beautiful and new to me. Maybe not to him. I would like to describe it in more detail, but that is too much Information.

Perhaps I’m just guarding the pricelessness of it all by having the picture to myself alone.

The random thoughtful SMS that made my heart warm and made me smile or fold myself like a fetus under my duvet while reading. The late-night calls. The most random pictures and excerpts from books and articles. The photography analysis. The plans. I was supposed to be his photography muse, but the timekeeper for relationships came and said “time up” before we could do all of that (this can still happen sha).

You see why I was willing to fight for this one, even if it felt awkward?

It wasn’t the butterfly kind of relationship. It was just beautiful. Lord knows I tried, but I couldn’t keep up. That is fine. I speak like we are no longer in each other’s lives, but we are, although things are not quite the same. This, too, is fine, because other people deserve to experience him the way I did. I may not have him forever, but I will have memories of the moments with him forever. I will always remember him the same way, whether we talk daily or twice a year.

Gotten from one of my favourite Instagram pages

Amazing Person Two

God threw this one into my life at the perfect time. He was my shoulder to lean and cry on. This one would get on a call with me every day just to hear me rant and be silly until we stopped calling each other. For some reason, he was my safe space. I let myself be vulnerable around him, and I was more of a talker than a listener (which is usually not the case with most people).

I liked this one. I really did; he felt like a female version of myself to an extent. For the many times my frequency of sharing pictures on social media dropped, he caused it. His DM was my new Whatsapp story.

Life was good. Everything was in bright colours and beautiful melodies until the bell struck again. We went from being each other’s oxygen to going several hours without talking. I never knew I had it in me to talk to someone throughout the day via texts and still have lengthy daily calls (I was shocked to find out I wasn’t tired or bored).

So imagine what it was like breaking out of the habit. He had become a part of my lifestyle, but me being me, I adapted quickly to living without oxygen. You want to know how I move on quickly from people? I always expect it to happen, and when it doesn’t happen as soon as expected, I raise a brow cos did the timekeeper fall asleep? While I can be an optimistic person, I love being realistic, which might make me come off as a pessimist.

Like with person one, we are still in each other’s lives, just not as present as before. I must admit that the “fave period” lasted way longer than predicted. I enjoyed every moment, every single one, and I miss those days.

Conclusion

You know, I’m thankful for my friends. I’ve been blessed with a couple of intentional people. If not for them, I’d most likely have zero friends because of my laxity towards relationships. It’s almost like I don’t care much for people; good if they are there. If they aren’t, still good. I know that sounds pathetic. So here’s me saying thank you to those who remain present despite all the weirdness and distance I create. I’m also thankful for friends and acquaintances who constantly, with their actions and availability, remind me that it’s okay to not do life alone.

I am that person who loves to know they are wanted before they make themselves available. One who likes to be assured they aren’t a bother. They match the energy you give. They have an ego bigger than their need for love/attention/affection. They’d rather live and die alone than be where they perceive they are unwanted or considered a bother, even if that is a misinterpretation on their part.

So to have them, you have to make it known that you want them because even when you aren’t tired of them, they will make that decision for you and make themselves distant, especially when you stop doing certain things you used to do. They don’t wait to be thrown out; they throw themselves out first before giving you a chance.

I am that person. I am they. I am them. Talk about asking for what I can’t really give… The Irony, ehn? I know. I know. I don’t accept half-bread; I never will. You always have to come correct and complete cos this girl doesn’t know how to run and has no power to raise the dead. It’s sad that I get more emotionally attached to things and places than to people. It has saved me from many emotional heartaches and disappointments.

For faves who stayed and faves who faded, I am genuinely grateful. Nothing lasts forever, after all. I promise you that I am no sadist, just a realist.

Can you relate to the stranger cycle story, and how do you handle it?

When Tomorrow Comes

Uncategorized December 10, 2022 12 Comments

Guess who finally had her first club experience! That’s right, I did. I’m so glad I could do that this year; the original plan was to have it before my last birthday. But this works too. What’s left to check off are swimming and bike riding.

It’s funny how it happened. I felt like all those oyinbo people who meet someone random and marry them the next day in a strange city, talmbout “love at first sight.” Very impulsive people!

So I met this young man by chance, a friend of my friends and acquaintances, and we got talking. First, he was patient and nice to me, and we got along well, going from location to location like we didn’t just meet. I bet some had the impression that we were a thing, especially with the hand-holding (I was in heels and occasionally needed support on uneven surfaces). Just before our roaming around came to an end, he suggested that I accompany him to the club (it was a closing celebration of the event that brought us together that day). And I enthusiastically agreed because, why not? It was something I had wanted to cross off my list.

You might think that was foolish because who goes to the club with a stranger, especially in a country as insecure as ours? Well, trust me to do my background check after accepting. He wasn’t a total stranger. I mean, before then, I knew him from a distance. I knew I was going to be seeing familiar faces too. The fine young man (let’s address him as “Classic Man” because of his fashion sense and charm) dropped me off at my destination with promises to pick me up at 10 or 11 pm.

I really did have a good day, all thanks to him. It felt like a tour and a road trip rolled into one. It turns out we both like amala, and we shared a plate at one of our stops. The best part was definitely the night drive back home. We had the windows rolled down and some good music playing. Felt like a scene from a book.

**No, I didn’t sing. I was there for the pictures and the memory**

The agreed-upon PM eventually came, and Classic Man came to pick me up. He was a good sport. He was a thoughtful driver, he didn’t drive as if he was tired of inhabiting earth. When we got to our destination, it initially felt strange, cos how do you act in a club? The music was too loud for me, and I thought my heart would burst from the vibrations.

Things eventually got better when we moved farther from the loudspeaker, and I started to sip on some Smirnoff that Classic Man got on my request. God forbids I consume alcohol I’m unfamiliar with and get drunk. I am not much of a drinker, and when I drink, I like it with family or trusted friends. As a matter of fact, getting used to consuming alcohol is something I’ve been working on for over three years now. I can say I’ve made slow but sufficient progress. So I had a can of Smirnoff and some red wine throughout my stay in the club.

I surprised myself; I danced. You read right. Rhythmless and ever-self-conscious Ekata danced and “rocked.” My God! I could give Megan a run for her money. I’m sure I looked ridiculous, but I didn’t care at that moment. Ekata 2.6 was at work and was busy being the daughter of Maya (Angelou). The Ekata of old would have had a thousand and twenty-six reasons not to grind on Classic Man because it is not my thing; we were in public, first time meeting him, a younger man, too many mutual friends, I wasn’t even sure I knew how to move my waist, and the endless list goes on.

Classic Man made dancing with him easier. He smelled the hell good, and that did work some magic on my senses (I just gave you one of the seduction tips that would work on me. Good luck trying). His broad chest, biceps, and triceps felt so safe; I just wanted to lean in and remain there while sniffing like a little furry friend. He felt like a home away from home. Moral lesson? Try dey smell nice. Now that I think of it, I must have stressed him out with the height difference. If you know, you know.

As far as I was concerned, I was just enjoying the moment. That has been my 2022 mantra, and I’ve adhered diligently. We could return to being strangers again the next day, and I wouldn’t have an iota of regret. I mean, I have less than five years to get to the third floor. I wasn’t going to let my pride and my need to always be right get in my way. It is enough that I missed out on my teenage years.

Have you ever met one who went straight from being a baby to an adult without experiencing the teenage phase? No? Oh. Pleased to meet you then, cos you’ve just met one.

I went from being a child to being an adult. I didn’t make all those foolish teenage decisions and shit the rest of you did. I was extra careful about my choices. In fact, I always felt out of place with my mates. I loved to roll with older people. With them, I didn’t have to deal with teenage shenanigans.

I am ultra-careful and calculative when making decisions, especially ones that may have long-term effects. It is why I can be very indecisive. I like to weigh the pros and cons and what I stand to lose. And when I have nothing to lose, I go for it. However, as soon as I make a decision, it’s tough to go back on it. In other words, I always had my head in the game.

Before now, 2018 was one year I let myself make “bad decisions” I do not regret in the process of exploring and satisfying my curiosity. It was my year of many firsts. Like my first sleepover at a man’s, my first “lap dance” (in quote cos I really was clueless and don’t know if that counts), first multiple “situationships.” Then there’s my first and last kiss because I may never be a fan and, as a result, may remain a terrible kisser.

But even in all of these situations, I was never impulsive. I never failed to do my math. I made those decisions because I had nothing to lose. Maybe some of my unnecessary ego was lost along the way, but I think I have enough to last several lives.

I don’t know if it is what being 25 does to people, but I’m at that age where I’m all about experiencing people. This year, I have made decisions that my old self would never have consented to out of “ego.” I have said yes to many dates, which my old self would never do. I am creating memories. I am living in the moment with no room for regrets. So long it wouldn’t jeopardize my future, and I am doing it because I want to.

I wasn’t joking when I said this year is for living strictly on my terms. Never cared much for rumors or wrong impressions (emphasis on “much”). If you don’t matter, then it doesn’t matter. Staying true to myself is more important. I really don’t know what I’ll meet on the third floor, so I am going to enjoy my twenties, and I’ll advise you to do the same. You still have time to be foolish and make foolish decisions.

You’ll get to a certain age, and people won’t let you off the hook easily when you make some unwise decisions. Let me warn you, I’ll be among those furiously judging you and your whole existence. So make those bad decisions now that you’re young. But when things go south, you didn’t get this advice from me.

If you want, wear those ashewo dresses and let volcanoes erupt. You want to dye your hair green? Go ahead and do it if there are no consequences. What I won’t approve of is sleeping around with multiple people. But who am I to say you shouldn’t? If you can afford to raise kids and treat STDs, by all means, screw and ride away. Your body, your choice, right?

Now back to my club experience. I had a really good time, not because of the club but because of the person. Would I like to do it again? I don’t think so. I’d instead create a club in my house or my partner’s house with just the two of us. Did Classic Man and I go back to being strangers? Maybe, maybe not.

Let’s see how long this phase lasts. By the way, I am totally enjoying it. I’m about experiencing different people, creating beautiful memories, building relationships, and enjoying the “baby girl treatment.” So when tomorrow comes, I’ll look back with zero regrets and a broad smile at the memories I made. I’ll drink a cup of smoothie to that. Cheers.

Postscript

I’d love to learn how to kiss people in greeting. I’ve never made a move to kiss anyone who isn’t a child or my mum. I have gotten forehead and cheek kisses on long days, and I loved the feeling. I could be that person who makes a long day slightly better with a kiss. I want to explore it.

So we are adding that to my bucket list. Y’all, get ready to start receiving holy kisses from me. I don’t exactly want to make that a culture. Let me explore first…you never can tell; I went from avoiding hugs to being a hugger who never misses a chance to share hugs. Wish me luck, guys. I need YouTube videos.