Reader Response: I should not have married that man!

Hi guys,

Today’s post was received from a reader and she granted me full permission to use it. Please read and learn and if you can, share your advice.

Sometime this week, I shall follow up on a little piece of advice for her ( I will include readers’ comments too). I am no expert (AT ALL) but I read a lot and listen to old folks a lot so I have gathered and will still gather more information that I believe will assist in helping our reader.

I have amended the email a bit, mainly for typos and abbreviations, as it appeared sent in a hurry.

Have a lovely week ahead.

Temiville. xoxo

***88% unedited to maintain the integrity of the Reader’s Post***

Source: http://www.capitalfm.co.ke/lifestyle

Hi Temiville,

Welcome back to blogging *side eye*. Unlike another commenter mentioned, I wasn’t just about to remove you, I had completely stopped checking for your blogs. I thought you had abandoned blogging. Anyways, I have enjoyed your recent posts and congratulate you, again, on your son’s birth. May he outlive you and prosper in health and God’s grace.

To my story (I grant you permission to use EXCEPT my photo and name):

I got married to the wrong guy and I knew it, just like I am sure Onome knew it. But I went ahead so it was not a case of not being warned. My own case was not even cheating. It was just plain incompatibility. Like not respecting my cake and icing theory and not going for a man that we will blend well together. Even I knew that my husband and I were and are still not for each other but I went ahead having been told by many that fun, excitement in marriage and running around on the beach is best left for fairy tales… I therefore thought nothing of our lack of excitement: I am not an expressive person and my husband is even worse than I am. At least, I tell him I love him. He has NEVER and I mean NEVER EVER EVER EVER told me those three words.

I remember during my bridal shower, I was asked who said ‘I love you’ first and I just laughed and said “I did”. Little would the girls know that there was no confusion in that regard. This is just to emphasise the point that mine is a passionless marriage. He doesn’t hug me. We hardly kiss. We never hold hands. Sex is without ANY form of foreplay and all these got even worse after we had our second daughter. If I thought things were bad, now they are just plain laughable.

I have been dissatisfied for a while and blamed it on my weight gain. I was size 8 when we married in 2012. I’m now a size 12 but I believe I look alright (see my recent photos attached). I got so convinced I had lost my appeal and to ‘test’ it, I went to the City Mall near the Government House at Azikiwe Road in PH where we live. I went without my ring and was approached by a guy, after a few minutes. I confirmed, at least, that I am not bad like that even if no longer the ‘lepa’ I was back when we met and married. Even when we met, he would never say I look good or look bad. He was just bland. Like you once told people in your blog and I confirm, marriage changes no one. He stayed the very same. Slightly worse sef as then, I knew I was okay but now, with a jiggly lower belly and fatter thighs, a bit of encouragement would really help my self esteem.

I listened to this Myles Munroe preaching (see link below) where he advised women to quit complaining about an unromantic spouse and start organising dates and initiating stuff. So I got gingered and started. Maybe it was my method of execution, but I pretty much had a 40% success initially and now, we are back to where we started.

I remember one ‘date’ we went on. We hardly spoke, so much that the couple beside us kept throwing us glances as if to ask if we were dumb and all. It was only when the waiter took our orders that they confirmed that the cat hadn’t gotten our tongues. We have ZERO chemistry. I at least find him attractive though he lost the six pack he had when we met but with him, I must appear so ugly.

He always looks forward to going out with the boys (who interesting go with their wives sometimes o). His happiest times are when he has to travel out of Port Harcourt to consult somewhere (he was in a consulting firm that means he travels). I have once stumbled on an email excusing him from a trip since my birthday was so close and it also fell on a holiday and all he could do was respond that he is happy to go. I was hurt.

To cut the story short (lol), my marriage is boring and I have tried all sorts of things without much success. Now, I’m just preparing myself to hear he wants a divorce because there is just no way we both can carry on like this. I have seen him so excited and bubbly with friends and colleagues one minute then totally quiet and silent the next once we are alone.

I feel lost. I feel lonely. I feel helpless. I wish I didn’t marry him and save him also from the misery of being married to a woman he clearly has no feelings for. I know he’s doing his bit as a man of honour and will provide and right now, we are more like co-parents and housemates than friends and lovers.

My advice to single and even those in serious relationships is this: marry your friend. Not just a friend-your pally, your paddy, your homie, your buddy, your person. There’s nothing as bad as a rut in marriage and a marriage lacking companionship and excitement. It is tiring. I see my male colleagues at work checking up on their wives during the day, organising trips and weekends away, grabbing moments to text each other and laughing into their phones. Our chat history is a joke. Either its a question about picking up the children or about some other family administrative task, very mechanical. I have friends who go on holiday as a family and also as a couple and plan their leave together, not necessarily expensive, to Dubai, to Calabar to Ghana just to reignite the spark. He prefers being alone and going alone all the time. Our honeymoon was a joke. He stayed in the hotel room half the time, no! not doing the deed o but working, sleeping and watching golf (there was a major tournament that period), the only dinner we went on was just not it.

I know I’m not a naturally bubbly person. Neither do I have the perseverance to keep initiating with no measurable result. I know therefore that Im not contributing much to exciting marriage vibes. So why did I marry a man who doesn’t get moved or inspired by anything but his solitude, solo trips, solo life. Someone like me would have done well to marry a more lively person, someone who would keep the marriage bed alive and active. Someone more loving and caring not a wood who cannot be penetrated or moved. Someone I gel with. Someone who is my friend. Someone who would bring me out of my shell not drive me deeper into it.

In marriages like mine, the woman suffers more as she is the one expected to stay home to take care of things. She has the babies and gets fat. She may feel guilty going out often and leaving the kids and her husband. She will turn down opportunities to travel for work often and will rethink going on extended conferences and trainings. Yet, she will be undervalued and bitter. So save yourself the heartache and marry a true friend. One who genuinely can’t bear to see you hurting. One who lives to make you happy. One who loves you and is proud to let you know. One who loves and will let even his friends and yours know. The type who will respect days you designate as date nights not the one who will forget and call you childish for caring so much about a stupid dinner. The type who would hold your hands and hug you and tell you all will be well. The type who when you are ill will not say you are pretending but will drop stuff to attend to you. The one who would proritise you as you do him. If you don’t have at least 75% of this in your spouse to be, then I second the motion: Don’t marry that man!!!

Pregnancy Chronicles 2: Where to birth!

Hi people, I started sharing my pregnancy experience last week by opening up to you about my fears pre-conception and even my worries about my baby in utero. Today, I want to focus on the actual pregnancy itself and touch on the decision to birth our son in a foreign land and how S and I were on opposite ends of the spectrum on that. I discovered we were having a baby boy and I immediately started praying for him specifically.

Source:http://thumbs.dreamstime.com

I prayed about his health- I asked God to make him free of disease, whether genetic, congenital, acquired howsoever. I prayed about his character- I asked that his behaviour will be shaped by God himself, that he will be a man of character, that he will take on all of S and I’s good sides and none of our failures. I prayed that academically, he will outshine S and I (trust me, that’s a great prayer as his dad is a brainy, me too :p). I prayed that in school, he will not join gangs or cults. I prayed that he will remain a virgin till he marries (I don’t think S said ‘Amen’ to that!!!). I prayed that he won’t marry a destiny destroying woman. I prayed that his wife would submit and love him genuinely in the way God ordained it and that he will also submit to her and love her genuinely as Christ loved the Church (yes, the Bible advocates couples’ submission one to another. See Ephesians 5:21). I prayed that he will birth godly and healthy children. I prayed that, I have known his beginning, I will never know his end and that he and his children and his sibling and his/her children will bury S and I at a ripe old age. I prayed that he will fulfil destiny, make heaven and lead many to God.

As part of the desire to give our son the best, I suggested to S that we birth him in the United States and this was immediately met with strong resistance. “That is the colo/kolo-mentality that is not making Nigeria move ahead. If we put hands together to develop this country, there will be no need to birth abroad, study abroad, go for medical treatment abroad. I was birthed and bred in Nigeria and frankly I don’t think any Nigerian-American is better than I am or has more opportunities. Why should we gather our money to dash foreign hospitals who treat you like crap?” It went on and on and on.

I decided to quit harping on the issue and leave it to God. I told God, “I desire for this boy to have things I didn’t have. I want him to have open doors and whichever door he decides to go through is up to him through Your leading. HOWEVER, if it is not your will, let S remain adamant. If it is your will, let him change his mind WITHOUT any further pressure from me”. It turned out it was God’s will. 😀 The whole planning and execution was taken over by God Himself and all went smoothly.

To be continued… *** Today, and related to the above, I want to discuss how to handle opposition especially when you are certain that you are on the right path and your opinion is superior. Always remember: -You are probably wrong and your opinion is probably inferior; -You can’t achieve much through argument. At its best, your now ‘opponent’ brings forward strong points aimed at beating yours. At its worst, there’s a total shut down and you may be tempted to falsely believe you have won. In fact, then, you are the loser; -Let it go by thinking of what will happen if you don’t have your way. In my case, my baby would have been born in St Ives or Premier? Ehn ehn? Where was I born and how has holding a single nationality held me back? Where was my father born? Who is the American in my life that I’m looking up to as the beacon of light and exemplification of opportunities?

I began to prepare myself mentally for a resolute ‘no’ from S and I became fine with the decision. This helped me not to be so desperate in my attitude which would have irritated S and probably made him insist; and -Pray to God to take control. He knows the right way and be ready even where God’s answer is NO! A lot of couples fight their way through decision-making and end up losing sight of what is truly important.

Birthing abroad is not worth my marriage. Sending your child to a fancy 350,000 per month day care is not worth your marriage where your spouse disagrees. Not/having a honeymoon in the fanciest resort is not worth your marriage. Keeping up with the Joneses is sooo not worth your marriage. Interestingly, the art of joint decision-making starts on a large scale when a couple begins to plan their marriage/wedding.

Decisions around where to live, how many people to invite to the event, whether to have a photo booth, whether to engage an expensive decor company or use your fiancé’s aunty who does ‘decorations’ and all she has in her resume is decorating the church pulpit with a few drapes and balloons. The list is endless. You need to know what is very important to you and let others go.

Even with those “very important” things, your presentation is key. Being confrontational never works. Even where the other party budges, it is usually with bitterness and probably resentment and they feel bullied and helpless and hate that! This point is also apt in other areas of life where teamwork is at play be it deciding on a presentation in a team at work, deciding when to keep quiet in a presentation/client meeting and letting your colleague speak for the team, or even planning a baby/bridal shower for a dear friend. I have seen people literally bulldoze their way through decision-making in groups set up to plan showers.

Even if you are the mom to be or bride’s twin sister and best friend since fertilisation of the egg, you should not treat these tasks as though you are a commandant handling your subjects. When you notice people just keeping quiet and only you are doing the talking, then there is a problem and you have lost people who either are too fed up based on their previous experiences with similar dictatresses or just love their friend too much to be the one protesting because sure enough, you will report ‘difficult’ people to the bride/mom to be.

I have seen people being charged as much as 10/20k for showers with elaborate themes and ideas for a bride who is financially challenged and would have her sensibilities offended at such ‘wastage’. You need to know who you are planning stuff for and not forget it is not for you and be reasonable in all you do. I digress. This :

Source: http://citifmonline.com/

OR This:

Source: http://www.muyiwaoshin.com/

I know that in every team, there MUST be a leader who when it comes down to it, their views PREVAIL. In marriage, it is the man (yes, throw banana peels at me). But always allow for differing opinions and invite them. They can either make you see the folly in your choice, improve on your views or reinforce your decision as being the right one. But never make it look like a dissenter is an enemy or a party pooper. If after attempts to be inclusive there is still no consensus, then and then only may you hit the gavel on the sound block.

So people, what are your thoughts on teamwork and decision making therein?

Should husbands’ views prevail? When he says no, do you go ahead against his will or sulk?

As a husband, would you put your foot down or allow views you don’t agree with fly?

As a team leader, do you believe in letting everyone have a say or does this lead to confusion?

Let’s muse! Temiville.xoxo

Don’t marry that man!

It has been raining for over 40 minutes…Well not actual rain, yet not drizzles. Somewhere in between. Segilola lit a cigarette, what she considered to be her only vice since it was harming her health. She is a doctor and she knows what is good for her but she just would not do it. She took a slow, long drag and inhaled to the bottom of her lungs, held it there for about 6 seconds and then did a slow nose/mouth exhale. She loved the way it made her feel woozy, then dizzy. The sound of her phone ringing brought her out of her reverie.

“Hi dear”, she answered, attempting to sound cheerful.

It was Onome calling… Onome Makinde or was it Akindele, whatever, Onome was a pretty messed up girl and was her kinda ex-friend trying to make a come-back. Her story buttressed Segilola’s resolution never to get married. What exactly is the reason why people get married? What is the point of subjecting oneself to a lifetime of either boredom or regret. The thought of being with one person forever was one Segilola refused to even consider. The only way she would ever agree to marriage is if she finds a man who was okay with an open relationship. You can do your thing. I can do my thing. But please let us not pretend we are faithful to each other. It was not just about the sex, it was the thrill of meeting a new man, fronting for a bit or brazenly seducing him till he gave in. In marriage, all that is lost. You are with the same man, kissing the same lips, shagging the same man forever. She shuddered at the thought.

What irritated her most was the lies. Men lie. These days, the women are worse. Would it not be better if both parties laid their cards on the table: we marry but you can do you and I do me.

“Segi, please are you home?”, Onome asked sounding a bit shaken.

“Where are you and what is the problem?” she quipped, taking 3 quick drags. This time, she exhaled immediately, slightly upset at the disturbance.

She was in no mood to receive any guest or play host in any form. She just wanted to be alone, read a book, smoke her fags. It was either she lied that she was not home or she appeared liked a bad friend by telling Onome she was unable to see her. She frowned, waiting for Onome’s response.

“I am at home. Can I come to yours now? Are you at home?”, she sounded impatient with Segilola’s evasiveness.

“Yeah, I am. You can come but what is the issue?”

“It’s Jide”, she mumbled between sniffles.

“Hmm, okay. Take it easy. I’ll be expecting you”, she said as she threw on some knickers and yesterday’s clothes and dragged herself to the living room to wait for her guest.

***

Source:http://www.gollyfolly.com

It was the exact story she expected to hear. Onome had snooped on Jide’s phone on Saturday and saw a text message from an unsaved number asking what the plan for that evening was. Refusing to accept it was a benign message, she promptly inputed the digits into her True Caller app and lo and behold it was a female name that showed up. At about 4 pm that same day, Jide had a second shower, got dressed to the nines, picked up his briefcase and the keys to his new car and announced that he was off to a business meeting.

With the information she had, she decided to probe. She asked him who he was meeting with and he responded that it was himself, Chinedu, his male colleague and a potential client, one Chief Eruwa. As soon he spoke those words, she confronted him angrily with her proof of a lie and announced that she was fully aware that he was meeting up with a girl whose name is …cant remember what she called her but she definitely mentioned the name to her husband.

Jide was half stunned, half angry and still proceeded to go out without saying a word. He didn’t come back home that Saturday and didn’t pick her calls either. Today, the next day, he showed up at 2pm still not saying a word. She screamed at him and in response, he slapped her and told her never to touch any of his phones or snoop on him again. Somewhere in their fight, he admitted seeing another woman who brings him peace unlike her. It was after that encounter that she picked up her phone to call Segilola.

***

Segilola soliloquised.

Onome has never been happy in her marriage. I am one of the few, if not only friend who told her not to marry Jide. I know, for a fact, that I am the only one who actually told her outrightly. The other two semi-bold girls had, at best, hinted at it. I damned the consequences against the warnings of mutual friends who said to leave her alone and pray for her that God will reveal to her that Jide is not the one for her. What is it with hypocritical Nigerians and prayer? You say to pray for a girl who is about to marry someone we all know is a loser and a cheat. How exactly is God to answer that prayer, pray tell?! To send Angel Gabriel to tell her in a dream not to marry him or to give her the strength to endure an unbearable marriage? Gosh!!!

In my opinion, my telling her was the answer to someone else’s prayers for her. 2 months to her wedding, I sat her down and as kindly as I could, told her right to her face that Jide does not have the ability to make her happy and in fact worst still, he would bring her misery. She screamed at me and promptly dropped me off her bridesmaids list. She refunded the N60,000 I had paid for bridesmaid’s dress, make up and accessories and sent me a text that she believes guests at a wedding should be those who wished the couple well not prophets/prophetesses of doom who believed their marriage will fail and in view of that, she would appreciate if I did not attend.

I was hurt. I was disappointed. I had thought Onome to be a pragmatic and reasonable person who can handle truths, however bitter. I was so wrong. Thankfully, my brother’s son chose that period to make an unexpected and early arrival into the world after 7 months gestation, so I spent that period by his wife’s bedside in faraway Medical Centre Arlington, Texas. That is the only way I was able to avoid too many questions as regards my non-attendance. She took me off her BBM as well but we have loads of mutual friends and Jide is a typical “Lagos bobo” so their engagement and wedding pictures were all over social media and my BBM updates as well. I saw the other bridesmaids looking resplendent in the fabric and style I had chosen. I’m glad she was not childish enough to change it.

Onome looked beautiful in both her traditional Urhobo and Yoruba attires. Everyone looked great but I was sick to my stomach when I saw updates from our friends saying things like “Happy Married Life to the most amazing couple”. “I know your marriage will be awesome”. Even Bisi, a bridesmaid, who the week before had told me Onome was making mistake, wrote a long epistle on her instagram page about how great they are together. Hypocrites!

Two months into their marriage, I bumped into Onome in Balogun market. She looked into my eyes and kept walking. I had neither the strength nor the inclination to go after her in the crazy busy market and anyone who knows me knows I’m too stubborn to apologise for a good deed of mine and I have no tolerance for bad behaviour so I hissed and carried on with my fabric shopping. Just 2 weeks after our Balogun market encounter, we met again, this time, at a spa. I met her there waiting her turn but I had pre-booked so as soon as I walked in, I was attended to and ushered into the room for my spa treatment. She looked upset but the receptionist was quick to tell her that walk-ins generally have less priority in comparison to those who had booked and paid beforehand. We never saw again at the spa but that night, she sent me a WhatsApp message saying it was nice to see me. I didn’t respond immediately and waited about 2 hours after reading and sent her a smiling smiley, the one with no teeth. She wasn’t worth the teeth.

The next day, she called and sensing my coldness, said she was coming to mine. I was tempted to tell her I was unavailable but concluded instead that she was not worth my lie. She showed up 10 minutes after and within a few minutes, opened up to me. She cried and cried, telling me I was right and that her marriage had been hell. According to her, two weeks after they returned from honeymoon at the Maldives, Jide resumed hanging out with the boys and clubbing. She didn’t think much of it until she saw a condom in his wallet. She asked him about it and he claimed his friend put it in there and that he was even more shocked than she was to see it. Thank God he uses condoms, I thought to myself.

I didn’t need all that explanation to be honest. I personally have caught Jide in compromising positions at the club many a Friday night. He was a cheat and didn’t even try hiding it. I don’t even know why Onome accepted his proposal. It takes a lady of little or no self esteem to think its okay to be married to such a man and cry when accepting the ring that should have been flung in his face! Up until the day he proposed (and possibly after), he was in serious relationships with at least 3 other girls, so serious that in the eye of external observers, any of his girls could have been proposed to. When he gave Onome that ring, it was as though she won the race because, trust me, there were other contenders. One of the other competitors is known to be a good girl, a young Ibo girl who was reputed to be a virgin but whose parents were both pastors, slightly tribalistic and just would not accept a Yoruba boy whose parents were both politicians, chiefs and non-church goers (what a lethal combo, they must have thought!). They just would not allow it. So Onome was the next best thing and she got the ring.

I gently patted Onome’s back as the tears rolled down. She had wept and sobbed and now was exhausted. The only advice I have is a divorce! Onome was just 28 and many people in happy marriages today had not even met their spouses at that age. Unfortunately, as crazy as I am, I wouldn’t even dare offer that advice. I decided to follow the crowd and speak those words I absolutely have no belief in: “pray and fast, he will change”. Those were the words she said even her mother had spoken to her. Her mother had reminded her of how she had suffered so much in her marriage too and that no one ever has a problem-free home. Her mother had said that all her friends who appear happy all the time in photos etc are pretenders whose true and unedited stories if she heard would make her thank her God that all Jide was doing was cheating and giving her the occasional slap.

If her own mother can advocate staying in agony who am I to suggest otherwise. Had they been in my kind of idea of marriage, no one would be hurt as there are no such expectations of fidelity. Her mother had agreed with her that they would not tell her dad but would commence on a seven day fasting and prayer session. She asked if I would join my faith with theirs. “No problem”, I responded fully aware that I would be breaking each day’s fast with my 9:30 am breakfast. No time!!!

***

These questions play around in my head:

+ Should you tell your female friend she is about to make a terrible decision by marrying a certain man or do you keep quiet hoping she will either find out through some other means or for her sake, the man will change?

+ As a woman, would you want to be told that your fiancé is a cheat just a few months to the wedding?

+ As a parent, all the vendors have been paid and IVs sent, but you discover your son in law to be is a philanderer. Would you pray it away or face the situation head on and advise your baby girl to move on?

Let’s muse!

Temiville.xoxo

Pregnancy Chronicles 1: How I got pregnant

LOL! More like “Pregnancy Chronicles” not HOW it happened… *tongue out*

I got married in April and saw those twin lines on Sunday the 1st of June. I still remember exactly how I felt. Thank God, I’m not barren and will not have any problems conceiving. All of my teenage years were filled with trepidation over conception and birth. I was so frightened that I will have to be going from one Pastor to one Gynaecologist about getting pregnant as I had been surrounded with people who had struggled with this and the thought left me so numb with fear. I was also Team #GiveBirth9MonthsPostWedding and I confess that I wept when I saw my first post wedding period *covers face*. I won’t bore you with the details but I scared the hubs who must have been thinking, ‘what can of woman have I married o who’s bothered about not having conceived in 2 weeks of marriage. What will she do in 2 years?’

So yeah, what prompted me to do a test? The hubs noticed a cluster of pimples on my face and teased me about it. Well, I wasn’t finding anything pregnancy related funny so I proceeded to the closest MedPlus and got myself a test kit, read the instructions about 5 times then woke up bright and early the next morning to make sure the first day’s pee wouldn’t be diluted by water, pee-ed on the stick and said a prayer. TWO LINES!!! I repeated the test on the second morning because of false positives and voila!!! A confirmation!!!

After being excited for a few minutes, paranoia set in: Will I be a good mom? Wait mom lohun lohun…will I miscarry? Will my child have defects and be sick as I had consumed some alcohol the week before? Will I have pregnancy ailments? Will I be fat and ugly with spots and swollen feet? Will my child be okay in there? I couldn’t believe how I became so obsessed with everything and so worried. I couldn’t accept the good news and be happy. I kept reminding myself that anything can go wrong so keep calm and take care of your child.

I ended up having a relatively easy pregnancy but it didn’t start easy. I remember my poor driver having to park on Third Mainland Bridge whilst I proceeded to empty the contents of my insides on the tarred road. I remembered how my colleagues nicknamed me Tsunami because mo man sun gan (I slept a lot), I remember how I would bleed for no reason and was convinced I had hurt my baby. I remember being diagnosed with fibroid and googling fibroids in pregnancy and being worried the growth will squash my baby. I remembered all the people I know who had died in childbirth and was worried praying hard that my baby will not call another woman mother. I remember my first naughty sip of coffee and how my baby kicked so hard after and was convinced that I had made him high on caffeine. So many fears.

All through, my hubs, S, kept me grounded. “Temi, where is your faith?”, he once asked. “You will pray and pray yet worry and worry. Is that not a sign that you truly don’t believe in God’s ability to take care of you?” Those words bore into my core and I decided to trust God and let Him take care of both myself and our child.

Little Peanut

S wanted a a little cute girl. I was indifferent. I just wanted a healthy child but I sure was happy when I discovered: It’s a boy!!!

It’s a boy!

To be continued…

Related to my Pregnancy Chronicles is this Question: Why do (Most) Nigerian women keep their pregnancy low key? In my defence, I still went for many weddings and parties and hung out a lot with my big belly. My Instagram pictures (@temiville) were never all bump though and only those with a gift for identifying even a week pregnancy could tell. Some people believe it is fear that people (aye) will hurt their baby. For me, I just didn’t see the need really. Amidst battling with severe morning (make that ALL FREAKING DAY) sickness, I just hardly had any post worthy photos. I did put these one up once though:

6 months gone

I saw this hilarious yet true post once and couldn’t help but chuckle at how much I can relate.

Before I got pregnant, I remember asking a pregnant friend excitedly “when are you due?” I got daggers in her stare for an answer. Other questions that engender paranoia in preggies in Nigeria include: “is it a boy or a girl”? I have once gotten “It’s a healthy child” LOL! I hated my belly being rubbed though but not for spiritual reasons. I just hated the feeling but I once invited a few colleagues to feel for kicks.

For me, at work, as a newly married lady, I started getting the knowing glances way before I conceived. Every sneeze, cough or (heaven forbid) menstrual pain earned me the “congratulatory look”. LOL! I tried to keep it coded for the first 12 weeks just in case my earlier described fear materialised. I really didn’t wanna hear any “peles”.

One lesson I have learned is to stay grateful for everything and trust God who has begun a good thing to see it through to completion.

Ice Ice Baby!!!

Pregnant woman showing off her belly with her unborn son

So what your views guys? Would you announce your pregnancy? Would you announce your baby’s sex or would you wait till you have the baby and write “Welcome Princess/Prince”? Do you get irked by those who are clearly pregnant yet hide it or worst still outrightly lie when you ask or send you a 🙂 smiley? I remember one of my very good friends whose bridesmaid I was who outrightly denied being pregnant when I asked yet 4 months after announced: Thank you Jesus for our beautiful son. Welcome to the world!

Looking forward to reading your views…

Temiville.xoxo

The Cake or the Icing…

Hi people!!!

How are you? There is so so much to report and I shall do so in the following weeks. You will find a little update in the last paragraph!!!

Now to the day’s post: I have found myself in a position where people feel the need to ask me for advice on relationships and marriage. Im no expert but I read a lot and this informs a lot of my views and actions. I have also learned so much in my year of marriage that I feel like I am right on this one. There are two major points that I must make:

1. Always choose the cake over the icing; and
2. One man’s cake is another’s icing.

Folafunmi is my 27 year old cousin who reached a relationship crossroads last month. She called me and after a 15 minute long explanation, she ends with: Sister Temi, what do I do? Who do I pick? She has two young men on her case. The one is a fine gentleman with a great job that keeps him ALWAYS busy. From her description, they get to meet up for lunch or dinner twice a month. He hardly ever calls and has gone 3 days with no communication only for him to return her call finally and say “I have been so busy”. The other has an okay job that keeps him semi busy from 9 to 4. He has a lot of time on him hands and he spends that time calling her, texting her and trying to meet up constantly. He is not as serious as the former and goes partying, clubbing, weddinging (yes, I coined that) all the time.

Folafunmi’s story exemplifies what many go through in various forms. In cases like these, I feel the matter boils down to what you want as a woman/man. You need to know yourself and the things that make you happy and you need to respect what and who you are. If you are mushy type, you have NO business being with someone who cannot say I love you and who genuinely doesn’t see the utility in calling, checking up etc.

For me, stability, dependability, integrity, character, godliness, maturity and prospect are my cake. The lovey dovey is the icing which can over time be taught/learned till a compromise is reached and frankly, and icing-less cake is fine by me. Not every woman shares my sentiments. I have friends who must be wined and dined for them to feel loved. I have a friend who cherishes love notes and I have concluded that her husband had better be a wordsmith. I know of another who is satisfied with a loaded card even if her man hardly comes home. We have no right to judge and each person should be free to select as they require.

What leads to disappointment in marriage is picking a partner who only brings the icing to the table. Marrying a lady who dresses like Jessica from Suits to work and like Beyonce to parties is usually a nice icing. But I am not sure many a man will consider that the cake. Unfortunately, some will get so blown away by the sexiness and select based on that whilst the cake is sadly absent- no substance, no morals, disrespectful and entitled.

In my opinion, as I was quick to tell her, Folafunmi has not yet met The One because I don’t feel her needs will be understood by either option she presented to me. What I recommended to her is the following:

1. Pray to God to reveal your true self to you.
2. You need to know what vacuum you have and what is required to fill that i.e. your weaknesses. You also need to know the good stuff you are high in supply of i.e. your strengths.
3. You need to know what you really truly like and what you cannot stand or handle and once you discover these, you must respect yourself enough to choose a partner who does not exemplify everything you loathe about life. You are all for women empowerment, what on earth are you doing with a man who believes he is marrying so that his wife can take care of his needs…

Once you break your needs into the ‘major’ and the ‘minor’ i.e. the cake and the icing, you will enjoy a choice made from a focus on the cake/major and less consideration given to the minor. I considered height a major (yes, stone me!) and as silly as that sounded to most people, I didn’t compromise in that regard. I’m 5′ 9.5″ and I love high heels and I love to be able to look up at my man. I wrote about it once here and also here . So there was just no marrying a short man for me.

I hope this post has enlightened someone and reminded another about the important things in life. No one should put himself/herself through the torture of enduring a marriage. It is not worth it at all. You will suffer and also the partner you compromise for will suffer because no matter how hard you try to stifle your needs, they will show up and lead to bitterness and resentment. Conversely, when a person tells you things about themselves that do not align with your own cake, respect them and their wishes and keep walking. No use forcing a person into becoming your cake when they really have not very much in common with you.

***

It’s absolutely amazing to be back blogging. Its been too long and I’m not gonna make any more excuses (Please if you know a website developer, send their email as a comment. Thank you). New facts since I was here last:

6 months pregnant

9 months pregnant

9.5 months. Same outfit

-I am a mommy now to the most adorable little human
-Pregnancy is 10 months not 9 lol!
-Pregnancy, labour and delivery were not a walk in the park. Hugs for mothers
-I returned to work when my son was 10 weeks
-I work in the most AMAZING organisation with the most mother friendly policies EVER as I leave work at 2 and can carry on working from home
-Exclusive breastfeeding is not for the feeble hearted.
-My pieces will revolve a lot around my pregnancy days, mommyhood and being a young wife and mom (balancing the duties when your son seems to take over your existence)
-Banishing fear and letting others take care of him whilst I am away
-Losing the baby weight
-Getting my career back with a vengeance and staying relevant at work

Thanks to all who keep checking on me! I am back! God bless you.

Temiville.xoxo

For the sake of ‘Peace’- Parts 2 and 3

Hi guys,

Howdy? Hope you’re all well. Job hunting is going good and I’m really excited that something great is around the corner in Jesus’ name! Thank you for all your kind words. God bless you all.x

Here are Parts 2  and 3 of For the sake of Peace. I have had people call my phone asking me to publish the second part. It took a while because I thought it best to publish two parts at once to compensate for the delay. I honestly hope we learn a thing or two from this. It is lengthier than the first one as much of the story unfolds here.

My good friend put this on her status a few days ago, ‘Better to be single and happy than married and miserable’. Ladies (and gentlemen), please keep that in mind whenever you feel a tinge of envy or pain that all your friends are getting married or engaged and you are all alone. Marriage is too important to be messed with or entered into without caution. Get excited, not for that one day, but for the future ahead, the real deal, the Marriage.

Another good friend, Ufoma (CEO, Rubies n Emerald, an event planning company) told me a great wedding can take up to a year planning. That is a 6-10 hour event. How much more should we take in planning a marriage, which we pray will last forever. Go figure!

Please read and learn.

Love lots,

Temiville.xoxo

Marrying you, Dipo was a mistake I knowingly made. It’s like a young girl letting that boy run his hands down her blouse. As his fingers descend, she knows it’s wrong, she knows she should stop him but she lets him go on anyway; not because of any pleasure she feels but because she just wants to go ahead. Now I know it to be self destruct. Oladipo Richard Adeyele, marrying you was an exercise in self destruction.

Surprisingly, the first 6 months as Mrs. Oladipo R. Adeyele were blissful. I changed my display name to that and our perfect wedding photo was constantly my DP. I felt bliss. Thinking back now, I felt that way because I had no expectations whatsoever. Wrong! I had expectations alright. I expected you to start cheating within the first month. Darn, I even knew one of your exes who had the nerve to show up at our wedding in the tightest, boob baring bandage dress I have ever seen, grinding with one of the groomsmen whilst you, my husband looked on, mesmerized then jealous by her show of shame.

Dipo, you surprised me. You see, dear readers, Dipo was not a great or loving man but he let me be. He would eat whatever I served and say a polite thanks. He would text me ‘I’m running late’ if he would be home after 9pm. He would compliment my homemaking efforts before his friends and family. He would gobble down my ogbono experiment which recipe I got from the Facebook page- So you think you can cook. The sex with him was mechanical, efficient, machine like, ritualistic- kiss, fondle, sex – in that order- nothing like I’d hoped but it was okay and at least, got me pregnant in the 10th month of our marriage.

My dream had come true! Finally, he would pet me, cuddle me or at least cuddle my bump. I had finally gotten the glue to bind us in love. I was already 3 months pregnant before noticing. I was one of those medical mysteries because I still saw my period during the first 2 months of my pregnancy so though I had gained a bit of weight, I had attributed it to my many trips to Ice-cream Factory. I was slower and easily tired,  but I zeroed my mind that it could never be down to pregnancy. It was my mother in law who practically forced me to get tested. I called Dipo so excitedly as I left the clinic. Oladipo, you were so excited! You screamed. I’d never been the source of so much joy from you and I was so proud of myself. I grinned from ear to ear like a Chesire cat as I drove back to work.

One day, at 4 months gone, you snapped at me as I got ready to go to your office dinner, ‘can you not find something else to wear?! Your folds are all over the place, Sade in my office is 7 months pregnant and rolls are not hanging everywhere, do something about it woman, I don’t do obesity!’  I didn’t know that tears had started rolling down until I tasted the saltiness. Everyone else had said I was looking fit and great in pregnancy. They said I glowed. But I only believed your words. As I grew bigger, I’d get changed in the bathroom before coming out. I’d wear Body Magic. I didn’t want you to see the ‘rolls and folds’.

Nkechi, my friend was also pregnant and spoke of still having sex with her husband and still being just as desirable to him. She made me blush at her tales of their escapades in and out of bed. Dipo, you and I had stopped engaging in anything remotely related to lovemaking at 4 and a half months into my pregnancy. I felt ugly, disgusting, fat. And so I started using slimming products. I looked for the most drastic in result I could find. I read the instructions carefully and there it was- a healthy, herbal, natural slimming aid. It must be safe, I thought to myself. Within the first 2 weeks, I lost weight enough for you, Dipo, to notice and comment on. I was giddy with joy. Yay! I’d be just like Victoria Beckham and look so slim immediately after child birth. I decided to increase the dosage and it worked. The folds reduced, my thighs had that gap between them, my neck had a hollow. I only had vegetables, fruit and the shake that came with the slimming package. After a month of using, in my 6th month, we had sex, at your instance. I was looking great. That night, I gained your attention. That night, I lost our son.

You wept on the hospital floor. I was numb. The doctor, an elderly family friend, was merciless. I thought it was unprofessional to outrightly blame a woman for her own miscarriage. The doctor threw professionalism to the wind and blamed me for not eating right. My weight was not commensurate with how far along I was given my last statistics when I saw her. I weighed less than I did 3 months before and only had a bump and not as much body to show for my pregnancy. I dared not confess that I was also on drugs to stay slim. She probably would have slapped me there and then. Rightly too. I wanted to kick myself.

On our drive home, you were quiet. I tried to play the victim and would periodically hold on to my belly as though in pain just to get you to touch me and comfort me. Darn! I was the one who had lost her child. But you were having none of it and all you said was, ‘if you need to see the doctor, lemme turn back’. I knew I had lost the battle.

3 months after the miscarriage, on the exact day our son would have turned one week old, I saw the first sign of your infidelity. You received a call, smiled when you saw who was calling and walked out to receive it. You were on the phone for 45 minutes, laughing intermittently.  I knew I was in trouble.

You came back to the house, went straight to our room, had a second bath and got dressed in your best casual native attire, your newest sandals and perfume, took the keys to the new car and mumbled, ‘I’m going out and don’t keep the keys in the lock ’cause I’ll let myself in’. I knew it was over.

I waited for you. My favorite show was on but all I saw were the blurry figures on the screen through my tears. I had finished a whole bottle of white wine. I turn to alcohol when sad. That night, I was worse than sad, I was depressed. It was as though I was waiting for the inevitable sentence of death on my marriage. At 1:15am, you walked in. You were sober and looked happy until you saw me. I brought your straight face out. As much as I wanted and was almost physically itching to, I dared not ask where you had been for two reasons: 1. Early on in our relationship, you had warned me never to inquire as to your whereabouts unless you willingly offered an explanation. 2. I was scared you would be honest and tell me where exactly you had been and the answer would break me. I’d rather not know for sure. So through my post drunken state, I said, ‘welcome, should I bring your food?’.

There was no food but I just wanted to act normal and I was certain you would say no. To my shock, you said yes and proceeded to change the station to watch the replay of your favorite teams’ match screaming at each goal, missed or scored. That confirmed one thing- you had spent the evening and night with someone who didn’t care for football and you sacrificed such a big match for them. You were certainly not with one of the boys, certainly not. I was able to whip up something for you, quickly enough for you not to suspect I’d just started cooking it. You ate it, totally fixated on the tv screen, totally ignoring me. Quietly, I walked to the room and slept off. The time was 2:46 am.

Living a lie is hard. You know your man is cheating, you might even have finally put a face on the bitch’s name. But there you are, playing the dutiful wife. In your mind, it’s better to be an innocent victim, a cheated-on Mrs than have an openly failed marriage. You forget that in both situations, the marriage has failed openly.

Dipo got bolder and bolder. He would stay away for weekends claiming he was away on business trips to Abuja, Ibadan, Akure, Kaduna. He forgot who I am. Or maybe he just didn’t care anymore. I am a master sleuth, always have been, always will be. I know everything or can at least find out. In Uni, I’d help my girlfriends find out if their men were cheating by just listening to the stories they tell. I knew which boyfriend was outrightly cheating and which was just bored.

Dipo forgot that we put a tracking device on all our 3 cars and with a click, I’d know exactly where the car was located. Through the tracker, I discovered that his mistress was living in Akute, in the outskirts of Lagos. I found out that he would leave his work at 5pm everyday, pick her up and head to hers together. I’m not sure if he would drive behind her or actually pick her up but he was a man of routine and he stuck to this pattern during the week. On Fridays, the car was usually around the Island till 11/12pm before making the journey to Akute where he would sleep. These days, it was on the Island till Saturday which means they thought better of driving in the dangers of the night and just decided to stay in a hotel. Unfailingly, by 12 noon on Saturday, the car would make the journey to Akute. The check out time for most hotels is 12 noon.

My first reaction to Dipo’s cheating was pain, then sadness, then anger. I wished he had a string of girlfriends. That way, I was assured he gave his heart to no one else. But with just one person in his life, it was clear he was in love with her. That was the main problem. It is easier to salvage a marriage where a party gives just their body away. It is very hard where the heart has also been taken away.

My second main reaction was to seek revenge. I called up an ex boyfriend of mine, ‘just to check up’. I even agreed to meet up with him, ready to give in if he made the move. I thought to myself that if I slept with someone too, we would be even and I wouldn’t feel this much hurt and pain. Thank God it was Seun I chose. I had dated Seun in Year 1 in LASU. We broke up and then had a moment during our Masters year. He was eager to rekindle our love and wasn’t detracted by the fact that I had met someone else. His reasoning was that since I wasn’t married, then I could move on. He’d travel from Dundee to Leicester on the Megabus just to see me and hand-deliver now wilting flowers to me. It was exhilarating but I was strong and in order not to succumb, I stopped picking his calls or responding to his messages.

It was hard at first. Those who had met him the two times he came visiting loved his pleasant and fun nature. He once lifted me up in the city centre much to the delight of my friends and the disapproving looks of some stuck up British people. You see, it was so easy to like Seun. For my friends, they preferred him to the so called boyfriend they had never seen and hardly saw me speak to on the phone simply because he made an effort. Whenever Dipo came to the UK, I’d have to leave school and go to wherever he was. He never ever stepped into Leicester. I always defended him by saying since he had come all the way from Nigeria, the least I could do was to get my butt off to London.

I was Suzy the Seductress the day Seun and I met up but Seun had become born again and was now a Pastor, well not really a Pastor but a counsellor in his church. I guess the Holy Spirit does reveal stuff because he saw through it all. ‘Gbekeleoluwa, why are you doing this?’, he asked as I flirtatiously flicked my Peruvian hair away from my eyes.

Earlier that day, I had tracked Dipo’s car. It was on its way to Akute and had just gone past Ojodu-Berger. I reminisced on how Dipo would complain and complain about the distance whenever I suggested that we visit my parents in Okota. The very same man was now making daily trips to Akute which is pretty much in Ogun state! That was what sealed my resolve to commit attempted cheating. I wore my hottest skinny jeans, a sheer top and my only Louboutins (yeah, I once caught Dipo admiring a girl in Loubs and thought to invest in the N100,000 red soles and nope, he never for once noticed them!). I applied my make up like I was going for a modeling competition, each lid was well mascara-ed, brows shapened and well highlighted, lips as red as scarlet, cheeks tinted with blush. I was well made up yet it was subtle and classy. I admired myself as I got into my car. I took a few selfies and uploaded one on my DP with a message that read, ” Off to have fun *wide grin* *dancing smiley* ” hoping to God Dipo would notice and ask where I was off to. Lord knows any form of love from him right then would have stopped me. Within 10 minutes of the drive from our Nicon Towers home to the restaurant off Bourdillon, I had received 11 BBMs, some admiring me, others asking where was off to. None was from Dipo.

Like I said, Seun saw through it all and refused to encourage or participate in my decision to commit adultery. He paid for the food and told me that for the sake of God and his love for Him, he had to leave. In his words, ‘Gbeke, I’m literally pulling a Joseph here. It’s either I flee now or I fall. I will be praying for you. Your home will be healed and you will laugh again. Don’t call on any man, call on Jesus. All things are possible’. He got up and walked away. There I was with more food than I could consume. I had no a appetite either. I watched as the waiter counted the 18 notes of N1000 asking if all is well. ‘Yes, I’m fine’ I replied. Another date gone bad, he must have thought. Little did he know. I took my bag and walked into my car, turned on the ignition and the AC. Using the Johnson baby wipes that is always in my car, I wiped off every trace of make up from off my face and drove home.

Today, as I write, I place a curse on everyone, who, knowing full well that a person is married, assists in any way, shape, form, manner, however grand or minute, in defiling the marriage bed and causing them to break their vows. May it never be well with them. May they suffer irreparable loss. May they ask and never receive. May they seek and not find. May they knock and may the door remain firmly shut against them. May their children suffer heartbreak. May the disease of the Egyptians fall on them. May the curses of Deuteronomy 28 from verse 15 to 68 be theirs. I also extend this prayer to everyone aiding and abetting them, to their friends who encourage or even condone such acts, who call you and another woman too ‘our wife’, like Dipo’s friend, Sanmi who hooked him up with his mistress. Sanmi, may you look for peace in your home and not find it. Sanmi, I pray that one day, you will find out that your 2 lovely boys belong to your driver and gateman respectively. Sanmi, as you have put asunder, may God close His ears to your cries and cover His eyes to your pains. Amen.

 *

Nkechi came visiting yesterday. I told her everything. Things I have not been able to voice out, even to myself. I spoke it all. She cried and then prayed with me and invited me to her church. Oh, did I mention that going to church has become a drag? Seeing couples holding hands in prayer of agreement and dancing together, laughing etc just makes me remember the void in my life then sickens me to my stomach. So gradually, I stopped going.

I have now decided to go along with her to her Church to pray for a change. I’m not going to hold my breath but I will try and believe that change will come. I will try to resurrect my dead marriage. I will try to bring back the love. I will return to God and ask that He saves me. I’m only 29 and already going through marital turmoil. It really is not a walk in the park.

I have taken time to report the situation because I was scared of baring it all. But I now know I have absolutely nothing to be ashamed of. I tried my best for my home. I did all in the books. I tried to be sexy for my man. By the way, I’m now a size 8 up and 10 down. I would cook and cook and do all I could. Today, it was lasagne, tomorrow it would be ofada rice and stew? Dinner was going to stay fun and unpredictable, I had vowed. On Sundays and Saturdays, it would be the full English breakfast or ‘akara’ made to perfection or the pancakes in the Roman fashion that Fadeke taught me. I was a perfect Hannah the Homemaker and Catherine the Cook. I was also Sasha the sexy fierce vixen in bed, contorting myself till my neck almost snapped. I did absolutely everything, I did all. All but one. I married the wrong man. I was using the right techniques on the wrong product. I went against all I knew was right. I married someone who valued neither my presence nor my absence. I didn’t marry my friend. I didn’t let God choose, I chose and forced Him to approve. I saw the signs before marriage and went ahead. Even after the marriage, I ‘worked’ at it, I never prayed about it. I thought I could make Dipo love me by the things I did. It never works. It’s never in you to make a person love you, never. I’m sure we ladies all have instances of that ‘pest’ who liked us no matter how much we insulted and ignored him. That just goes to show that love is not earned.

I have been listening to sermons on restoration. If all these happened during the courtship, I’d have left the relationship, but I am married now. So from all the counsel I have received, I now know God will have to turn my mess around. Marrying Dipo might not have been His perfect will. It might have been His permissive will but I am married and because God hates divorce (see Malachi 2:16), I will do what I can to invite Him into my home to fix my mess.

*

Watch out for the Part 4 and how things end…

Help! I can’t afford her!

I knew what I was getting myself into from the very beginning. I mean, dating Kikelomo, a girl whose mom drives a modest 2000 Camry and dad drives a ‘Baby boy’ yet are happy to buy their daughter a 2013 Camry complete with a driver that was to take her everywhere. Kikelomo was spoilt silly by her parents. They gave her everything and when I say everything, I mean that literally. They’d sacrifice their own pleasures just to make sure she lacked nothing. She is an only child of older parents. Some parents of their ages have her as their last child of 5 kids. She is 26 and her parents are 69 and 65. They had after many years of praying, fasting and waiting and they made it clear to God, the world and to Kikelomo herself that they were extremely grateful to have her.

I first met Kikelomo in my final year of University. I was on a full Shell Scholarship to study Engineering and she was in her Foundation year. She was very popular as she was extremely friendly, attended events, got photographed everywhere, had loads of friends and even more toasters. When she finally started University, she became even more popular. We all thought she was some coded oil magnate’s daughter.

She bought a car as soon as she resumed school as a proper undergraduate. For anyone who understands how the UK works, you’d know owning a car is a total luxury, especially for a student in a campus university. This was not the US or Nigeria where cars are kind of needed. She was also popular for going home (Nigeria) at the slightest break we were given which most people will just spend in London. There were times she’d go for very short periods for a friend’s party or a relative’s event. I remember once we didn’t see her in Church on a Sunday and next thing, I heard she travelled on Friday morning and was expected that Sunday night. She had gone for her aunt’s 60^th birthday party. She lived it up in school back then, majorly.

When we eventually started talking, I was expecting a stuck up, proud girl and I was shocked. Kikelomo deceived everyone o. She’s the total opposite of the facade and is quick to tell anyone that is bold enough to ask that she is not a rich girl but a daughter of people with an overprotective heart, who went out of their way to ensure she had everything they would have given 5 sons. Her parents lived for her and gave her everything she asked for and even those she forgot to mention.

I went to hers and saw that they, indeed live a modest life. However, they spared no expense for their daughter and now that she is getting married, hmm, my folks are tired! At first, it was cute, but now, it is getting alarming. Let me give you guys a quick overview of our joint expenses. Oh by the way, they were quick to offer to pay it all if we are uncomfortable with it and that ticked my proud Ondo dad off. Her dad is Ondo too so it was quite something. Anyways, here goes:

Dress: 450k

Ring: Undecided but Kike showed me one she liked on Tiffany website. Me, I look at price before ‘liking’ anything. Kikelomo looks at the thing, likes it and convinces you to get it. I almost wee-ed in my pants when I saw the price. I mean, was it made from the golden calf? That was almost my entire salary for half the year and I have a good job!

Venue: I see absolutely nothing wrong with all these small, cute, venues around town that can seat 200 guests with the maximum price of 750k which I think is ridiculous but doable. Who are we inviting na? Kikelomo and her co-conspirators have picked about 4 options and the cheapest one (which Kike said she would ‘hate to use’ cost 1.1M)

Number of guests: As I said earlier, I think 100 from each side is ideal with allowance of another 100 mogbo moyas making it 300. Kikelomo says her friends alone are about 100! They are planning for 800 guests!

Photographer: Why should we be having a wedding in Nigeria and fly to Jand to do pre-wedding shoots and then fly our photographer, who lives in England, to Nigeria, accommodate him in a 4 star hotel for 2 nights and still pay him a huge sum?!

Entertainment: My mom goes to RCCG and she says their choir is really good. She is a deacon there and can arrange for them to sing songs at the Engagement and Wedding Reception at no cost and we can also get a reasonably priced DJ. Kikelomo has her list of songs that must be played and has one DJ in Festac that she trusts. His price is about 50k more than the one I know but I didn’t mind because I too know of that DJ’s skills. What killed me is that her dad intends to get KSA for the Engagement and trying to organise Wizkid or Iyanya for Wedding! Where’s The Fish! Those guys are bloody expensive and please, guys, answer me honestly, won’t the DJ do a better job of playing their music than they being there themselves panting and lip synching?

MC: I have this funny friend who MCs for a living. He was once popular and you guys may know him sef : Azadus. I met him at Rodizzio in GRA where he is every Saturday at the Freedom Hall Live Band thingy. Kikelomo no gree o. Her mom knows Sonny Irabor and believes he will bring more class to the event. Sonny Irabor charges like a boss that he is!

Decorator: Let’s not even go there. Is it not just balloons and ribbons? How do ballons and ribbons get to 750k?

Cake: Cakes by Tosan. Google the price

The most ridiculous to me so far is the Wedding Planner. Is this Yankee? Why can’t some of her NUMEROUS friends help her plan? Why do we have to pay someone to help us pay vendors? I’m confused.

So while all these are like jokes and all, truth is, I’m getting really fed up. For parents who have never married off a child, they know too much about wedding planning and it is clear they must have been planning their only child’s wedding since she was conceived and they found out they’d be having a girl. I’m not from a poor home, no. But I have younger ones and aside of that, I see no reason spending so much on ONE day! What about other things? More important other things? More lasting other things?

I get their excitement but I need to value my own parents too and this is getting really exhausting for them.  I know it’s a girl’s wedding but Im beginning to think maybe I really cannot afford her. I’ve not even given you guys the little expenses here and there such as fresh flowers, Louboutin shoes with our initials on the red soles, her insistence that I get a suit from Saville Row instead of from the tailor who makes lovely suits for my clolleages and I at work. The list is endless!

What exactly would you do???

Fed up Freddy

***

Hi people!!!

What’s going on? It’s just 12 noon and I have already been hit by 2 vehicles, one of which was a trailer. I was just fed up. When I spoke to my brothers about it, they asked me why I didn’t get down and take his details. I was too fed up to do that. I ordinarily would get down and rant and rave but today, I just let it go. I have purposed in my heart that my joy is unstealable. When I finally arrived at my destination, the security guard helped me hit the dent out and used engine oil to clean the scrapes so now it looks much better. I’ll find a panel beater later on.

So what do you guys think about Fed up Freddy’s post? Is he being a cheapskate or is Kike’s family being ridiculous? Share your thoughts people. How is it possible to have a fun, classy event without going broke…

That’s all folks!

Temiville.xoxo

Life as a Job Hunter

Hey people!!!

How’s it going? Hope you guys are well. I’m doing well over here but mehn life as a job hunter aint fun o! Lol! At all at all. Well, truth is many of my friends are still chilling, basking in the euphoria of not having to read Agaba or Ogbuanya again or any other Law School text for that matter. Most have left these shores in search of well deserved breaks. A few eager beavers already have jobs. I get bored easily and I’m definitely done with the thrill of being free. I AM DONE!!! I am so bored!

My parents are not helping the situation either. I remember during NYSC in 2011, coming home late because of work was neither out of place nor alarming to my parents. Now, if I get home at 8:00 pm, my dad would have almost mobilised a search party. I have now officially been given a curfew! LOL! *shedding hot tears*

With respect to the actual job hunt, a lot of people keep saying ‘Temi your CV is great, you don’t have any problem’ but I already have received a NO from one oil company after the 2nd stage. It was a bit painful sha, I won’t lie but I know if it is for me, I will never miss it. So I have promptly shelved it under the ‘Not my portion’ file. 80 percent of companies do not even get back to you so you have no feed back whatsoever! What of the ‘promisers’? Hmm. Most people don’t intend to help. Those very few that intend to probably don’t have the ability so in thev end, it is all God’s favour that opens doors.

Another issue I have been experiencing is ageism. Although I finished University more than 4 years ago, Masters, NYSC and the 18 month Law School programme have gulped the years which means though I am technically not an experienced hire, I’m not exactly a fresh school leaver. Most entry roles are for fresh school leavers and they specify an age limit, usually 25 which yours truly has said bye to two years ago. I didn’t get considered somewhere because of that sole reason. One lesson: Dear friends, experience counts far more than degrees. I pretty much have 3 degrees but the typical potential employer makes that look more like a barrier rather than an advantage. So guys, after Uni, please start work and work for at least a year before Masters. If I could turn back the hands of time, I probably will not do anything differently. I trust God that all will be fine and I am hopeful. Anyways! Enough of my tales. I’ll be sure to let you know as soon as I get my job. For now, I’ll keep praying, applying, trusting God and meeting my curfew at home.

Oh by the way, when I was moving back home, I expected to be earning at least N400,000.00 . It seems even those that have been working for 8 years don’t earn that. Most people laugh at you scornfully when you say you expect that. It seems as though even a N250,000 monthly pay is a dream for most and the norm is between N90,000 and N150,000.

I still maintain that you should know your worth and keep praying. God will open doors in Jesus’ name. Amen.

My current fave song by Lara George-Dansaki. Heard it on Inspiration FM yesterday and I bought the CD in traffic today. So uplifting.

Do you have any job hunt experiences to share? Holla!

Have a great day guys!

Temiville.xoxo

PS: There is this amazing training programme going on every two weeks and after the programme you get a chance to work as a customer service representative in a great company.  Had I been in that line, I’d have jumped at it. I’ll tell you all about it soon.

Are you Clingy?

Hi guys!

How’s it going? Hope the month has been going well for you so far. I pray that God’s hands of protection will continually be upon you and yours in Jesus’ name. No evil shall befall anyone of us. Amen.

So I woke up this morning to the news of a married man who attempted to marry another woman and then his legal wife came to disrupt the wedding armed with her dad, news crew and journalists. Like really?!!! The way we humans behave sometimes has me reeling! And you sat down there calmly, about to be joined with a woman with full knowledge of the fact that you are still joined to another. Oma ga oooo! Iriri aye. Nkan be  (I’ve run out out expressions).

So many questions come to mind: Had they already gone to the Marriage Registry as most couples do before going to church? If they had, then a crime might have been committed depending on the state (although I hear Bigamy is no longer a crime in Lagos).

Piece of Legal Info (hehehe): A good number of churches do not have the legal right to join people in holy matrimony and most solemnization ceremonies we attend are not what actually joins parties at law. They would have already been married and already be free to do the do (:P) before the Priest says, ‘You may kiss the bride’.

This is what the process is like:

Peter and Alice fall in love and decide to marry. They go to a Marriage Registry and pick up a Form A which is a Notice Form. They are required to fill in all their personal details including Name, Age, Address, Occupation, Status (Single, Married, Divorced or Widow), Consent (minor under 21 years), Signature etc. The point of these is that if either one puts a fake name, the marriage in void ab initio, not voidable o but void. In the eye of the law, it never happened. So no fakery allowed.

They would also need to have 2 coloured passport photographs. The form is posted on the noticeboard at the Registry for 21 days. The notice is also entered in a book called the Marriage Notice Book which may be inspected by interested parties during office hours without fee. The idea is to put the world on notice so whoever has any reason why they should not marry can enter a caveat or something along those lines.

After these are satisfied and the prescribed time has elapsed, the Registrar would issue a Form C after the following criteria has been met and satisfied:

i)    that one of the parties has been resident within the district in which the marriage is intended to be celebrated; and
ii)    that each of the parties to the intended marriage (not being a widower or widow) is twenty-one years old, and if under that age, the consent hereinafter made requisite has been obtained in writing and is annexed to such affidavit; and
iii)    that there is not any impediment of kindred ie consaguinity or affinity, or any other lawful hindrance to the marriage; eg married already under the Act; and
iv)    that neither of the parties to the intended marriage is married by customary law to any person other than the person with whom such marriage is proposed to be contracted.

Points to note: If you have been married under the Act, you cannot marry under the Act again without first obtaining a decree absolute. Interpretation: if a marriage wasn’t based on just cowry shells and ‘orogbo‘ and Seaman Schnapps which makes it a customary marriage, you cannot subsequently, marry another person without first going through divorce proceedings. In fact, the law recognises customary marriages and if you have undergone customary marriage, you can only marry under the Act if your ‘bride under the Act’ is still the same customary bride ie repeating your marriage by making it have a stronger legal backing-renewal of vows etc under the principle in Jadesinmi v Okotie-Eboh. So that man who sat there was merely wasting everyone’s time and at best was entering into a customary marriage. Sadly, you can  enter into a customary marriage after one under the Act but you cannot enter into one under the Act after a customary marriage unless parties remain the same.

So the married lady could have just as easily sat back sipping on caramel latte as she knows what is going on is nothing but a mere party. But I bet it must hurt sha. I do feel bad for the ladies. I feel bad for the ‘new bride’ if she didn’t know he was previously married. People oooooo!!! Hear hear!!! Before you marry someone you have not dated for too long, please, jo, biko do your due diligence and carry out all necessary investigations- go the Marriage Registry of states he has lived etc, you might also like to do some CRB check on him before you marry a paedophilic sodomite who was granted pardon by his President, yes one was recently pardoned by our merciful President. I guess that is what this world has turned into now!!! Sigh.

Sources: My wonderful lecturer at Nigerian Law School Lagos (NT), Marriage Act, Matrimonial Causes Act, namywedding website 🙂

***

Today, I want to discuss something I find very interesting. I consider it to be one of the deep secrets of life. It is a secret because it belies its true nature and consequence and people hardly see it for what it really is. For example, think of the art of giving. Based on commonsense, the more you give out, the less you have. But in reality, in life, based on God’s principles and even based on the principles of nature- the more you give, the more you receive. This can be likened to today’s topic- being clingy, insecure and overly self sacrificial in a relationship.

Based on commonsense, the more you call to check up on your partner, the more you drop any and every thing to attend to their needs, the more you love them, baby them or mummy/daddy them, the more you show them how emotionally dependent on them you are, the more they should love you back. But it never works that way. Ok, let me say it almost never works that way. Statistics have shown that clinginess, neediness in a relationship stifles its natural growth, chokes it and will eventually kill it. From the point of view of a lady, a clingy, needy man is a total no-no. It reeks of lack of self worth and when you spend your entire day calling, checking up, “holla-ing”, it makes one wonder, ‘aren’t you busy? Do you not have things to accomplish in your day? Have you nothing to spend your time doing?’

I’m going to don the dual hat of tutor and student today as I dare not judge 😀

Are you clingy in your relationship?

1. Do you depend on your partner for your daily dose of joy and happiness or do they simply add some flavour to an already beautiful and fulfilled life?
2. Are you upset when they update their BBM status and have not sent you a good morning message?
3. Do you feel bad when they have made plans without you in it such as hanging out with friends, holidaying alone or with family, being engaged at work for long hours?
4. Do you investigate every DP update wondering when he or she went out with the people in the picture, wanting to know each and everyone of them and his female friends’ marital/relationship status to be certain they pose no threat?
5. Are you ever ready to drop all you are doing to accommodate them?
6. Do you cancel plans with friends and family simply because he/she is free now and you can’t afford to miss a chance to be with them?
7. Are you so afraid to lose your partner that you would do almost anything to make it work including running out of an important meeting to answer their rare call?
8. Are you so careful around your partner, quick to apologise, tip toeing so as not to make them reconsider dating you?
9. Do you constantly want to shield them from being exposed to, attracted to or seduced by another that you monopolise their time, even causing tantrums and constantly seeking attention, approval and validation?
10. Do you know who you are and what you want in and from a relationship and request for it or are you simply happy to be in it and are scared to appear demanding and never want to ruffle feathers-your motto being let sleeping dogs lie?
11. Are you sad if you don’t hear from them then suddenly have the surge of joy once they get in touch? In other words, do they have a hold of the controls of your moods and emotions?

All these are clear signs of clinginess and emotional reliance and emotional dependence in a relationship-all detrimental to it.

But I love him! What is wrong with showing him just how much? (From the lady’s perspective)

 

1. At the beginning of a new, fledgling relationship, it’s all lovey dovey, gooey, I-can’t-breath-without-you but it’s very important to draw a line between showing interest and being clingy. You can love him without making yourself look like you have nothing else going on for you in your life and he is the be all and end all of your existence. Truth is, as flattering as it may appear initially, no one wants to be saddled with such a responsibility or should I say, chore.
2. It is so easy for him to take advantage of you and take you for granted without even meaning to or having evil intents. He loses respect and value for you and your time gradually and before long, your attractiveness meter reads 0. However physically attractive a woman is, without a measure of self, self worth, self-achievement, goals, dreams, standards, she stops looking like such a catch with time. Everyone wants a catch!
3. If you are always available, you appear like someone with no life, a lay about, a loafer and an aimless person who is always free. Even if you are like Olawamiri in a previous MCLA post who was job hunting and are not so busy, be busy job hunting not just always free and ‘there’.
4. When your life is scheduled around your partner, a vicious cycle is created. Do you hate saying what your day, week, weekend is going to look like and prefer him saying what his plans are first so you can fit yours around his and avoid him not being available? Then there is a problem.
5. Never make a human being your Number 1 priority. That position is reserved for God. Allow another take the reins and mount the seat and they will mess it up badly leaving smithereens of your broken heart in their wake.

Ok, so it’s confirmed- I am clingy. What do I do?

Now that you have realized that you are indeed clingy, you have accomplished step 1 which is self-diagnosis. I always tell people that if you understand the first principles behind a concept, it will be easy to tackle it even if it comes in different variants. So above all things, seek deep understanding of rationales.

So what is wrong with being clingy? What does it really about you as a person? It says you are insecure. It says you are not sure you are worth that much and you must have hit the jackpot to find yourself in the relationship and the minute it ends, your life returns to Ground Zero and heaven forbid you finding yourself in the league of the Single Ladies again.

It says you know you are not worthy of that relationship and you should consider yourself lucky to be one half of such a duo that you had better tread carefully before you lose it all. It says you know and are fully aware of the fact that you do not bring much to the relationship table. It says you are gold digger not a helpmeet.

It says you know there are so many other girls finer, better, hotter, nicer, wiser than you and most scarily, more suited for and deserving of your man so you had better shield him from them before one of them uses either ‘tiro’ or just her natural charms (which you are in short supply of) to snatch him away. It says without him in your life, your existence is dull. You have no engagements to attend to and at the end of each day, you have no ‘gist’ of how interesting your day was because, guess what, it was all about him and you had already given him a blow by blow, minute by minute update of how it went anyway!

1. Now that you know how low you appear by being clingy, ask God for grace to discover yourself in Him and to begin to appreciate how much you really are worth. Only God can reveal your worth to you. No amount of man’s praises or whispers of sweet nothings should define you to you. People’s accolades on you should simply be a confirmation of what you are well aware of. (But remember humility sha :p)

2. Rekindle lost friendships. Begin to get in touch with your dumpees by asking them what they’re up to, paying them a visit, calling them and going for drinks in a group just to ‘catch up’. If you are lucky and have nice friends, they will let go of your temporary insanity and welcome you right back into the fold. If they’re a tad mean, they might put you through hoops and make sure you earn the friendship back, hehe.

Rekindling friendships has many benefits: you realize you have such gold in your friends; you realize what they are up to and get inspired by them. For instance, some might have started a business by the side, started applying for Masters, practising for the GMat, GRE or LSAT, some might be applying for huge positions in big firms and be on Stage 5 of 8 and have tips to share on the process, some might be in long distance relationships that are (surprise-surprise) working just fine, another’s boyfriend might have just gotten on the exchange program to work in a Magic Circle firm in the UK for 3 months and to your surprise, shock, befuddlement, she is very happy and excited for him and not in the least bit scared of losing him, some might have started weekend culinary classes to learn or improve on their cooking, some might have joined a charity that feeds people on the streets every month or teaches English to students in poor schools, some might be going through serious challenges of life that humbles you. From such meetings, you begin to realize that there is so much more to life than your boyfriend represents.

3. People who are overly clingy in their relationships hardly have time for family either. Spend a whole Saturday gisting with your mom (not about potential wedding colours o) but just about life, your studies, your work etc. Cook for your father. Take your niece to the cinema on Saturday to see a Ben 10 or whatever kids love these days. Plan to spend a weekend visiting a relative or a friend who lives in a different state. Remember that a healthy relationship should make your other relationships better and stronger. People should see you growing and glowing and not begin to wonder what went wrong with you and then attribute it to your relationship. You should never lose true friends because you started dating neither should your partner drive a wedge between yourself and your family.

4. Trust God enough to give him space. Yep, I said it! If you trust that the plans He has for you are of good and not of evil to give an expected end, you will not live in constant fear of losing your partner. Fear has torment and is not of God. Remember, instead of the spirit of fear, God has given you the spirit of love, of power and of a sound mind. If he is truly the one for you, you would not need to hustle to keep him or be keeping tabs on him or plan to do everything and go everywhere together. You would be free to let him go out and be happy he is having a great time with other people whilst you are carrying on with your day. When after all the events, hanging out etc he still loves you and wants only you, then you know for a fact that you have a good thing going because he can say ‘you are the best of the rest. Many women have done well, but you excel them all. Many women are skinnier, curvier, have longer hair, have better jobs, cook better BUT I choose you to the exclusion of all others’. It does a whole lot for one’s self esteem.

Just remember, clinginess ruins your relationship slowly but surely. You lose your sense of self and you lose your appeal. I hope we all learn to be secure and less clingy in our relationships. Selah. I pray we all find that beautiful reciprocal love where you show love and he shows it right back…requited love, it’s called.

Back to the matter-Recovery of Possession of Premises…

Have a lovely day!

Temiville.xoxo

MCLA Reader Writes-A Love Rekindled

Written by Abasiama Obi-Chinedu

Dara couldn’t wait to get to the airport. She had looked forward to this trip for so long and now, the day had finally arrived. The Lagos traffic wasn’t helping her case at all, but she had set out four hours early so there would be no sad tales to tell. Kiishi and Zuwairah had been pinging her all day. They had checked in already. “Oga you go take another road oh, make I no miss my flight”. This cabbie was story for another day. All she could do was sit it out. And curse the demon that normally brought on the kind of traffic nobody prayed to encounter when they had a flight to catch.

“O’baby!” That was her cue to start screaming as well. One of their classmates had taken to calling her O’baby right from her jambite days because she was always so well dressed and looked nothing like the other freshers, and the name just stuck to her like white on rice. Her friends were waiting for her at the entrance of the arrival lounge. Relief washed over her…seeing familiar faces when one is that frazzled is always such a blessing.  She had missed her friends and was so happy they were finally going to spend time alone eight months after she last saw them at her wedding. They’d all met at the university and had remained close friends even after school. “Pastor Mrs!! Thou art glowing. Marriage becometh thee”. Zuwy couldn’t get over her marrying a pastor and never missed an opportunity to tease her.  And as usual, Dara never missed her own opportunity to go King James on her friend. “Member Mrs! Behold the handmaiden of The Lord”. They had all looked forward to being together again. “This girl, you have started doing the sweet thing abi, see how you are glowing. Pastor must come and pay more dowry oh,  haba! Meanwhile this your bag, I have been trying to afford it, i claim it in Jesus name”.  Kiishi was just a catalyst, she stoked the fire for a living. All Dara could see was the long check-in queue. ” Abeg let me check in first before socials. Thank God I have just my hand luggage. As for this bag, you will buy yours at Michael Kors shop, OLE”.

Checking in had been a breeze, thanks to some divine intervention. There was so much to catch up on and so much had already been shared on the boarding queue. Their laughter was infectious and other passengers couldn’t help but notice them. Few bold ones dared to talk to them.. “Oh, pay us no mind, we’re just happy to be reuniting after eight months”. Few of the other ladies couldn’t help but look at them funny, not that that they cared anyways. When these three got together, hardly anyone or anything else mattered. This was going to be a very long six hours and they intended to use it well. Five days in Dubai would not be enough to play catch up so maximize six hours in-flight, they would.

Kiishi had no filters. No subject was off-limit. “Oya, start talking..how is married life?” The silly look on her face was an obvious pointer to the fact that all she really wanted to know was how good sex was for her newly married friend. “I will answer when you ask me exactly what you want to know. Amebo” Zuwy could never get over Kiishi’s brazenness, this girl was constantly on a roll. It shocked her the things Kiishi said most times, and just when she thought she had gotten used to this zany female, she always managed to shock her some more. ” IteOluwakiishi Otegbola, kai! You are wasting your father’s money studying Law, you should be a gossip columnist. That’s how you were harassing me when I got married too. Do and marry oh so that you will give us a blow by blow account of your doings. Wallahi, you need Jesus in large doses!”. There was no stopping her though, she would get the information one way or the other.  Not that Dara  minded anyways, she enjoyed talking about her husband. Chimdi was the love of her life. He made her feel all warm and mushy inside. She never believed she would come to love him this much or even marry him, but she thanked God everyday that she had. Everyday before he started getting on her nerves, that is. She had needed someone to talk to for so long and she was glad she had her friends here and she could finally let it all out.

The tiredness kicked in slowly and finally, they all began to slip into their private worlds one after the other. Dara was happy to be left alone with her thoughts for a while. Chimdi…she missed him so much already but she was still so mad at him. The first day she invited her friends to church, he was outside talking to some people while they waited for the first service to end so they could attend the second. He was the kind of man you would never fail to notice. She never stopped wondering how a man so tall,  not-so-dark, and drop-dead-handsome could be a pastor. He was neat, always very well put together, friendly for the most part, and just starring at him would give any female life. “Who’s that fine specimen of protoplasm? Some people can be fine oh”. Kiishi was the first to say anything about him. Dara went on to tell them he was the pastor in charge of the Singles Fellowship, could sing and preach up a storm at the drop of a hat, most of the ladies in church were falling over themselves to get his attention but up until then, he was still very single and if Kiishi was interested she could pick a number and join the queue. She herself had had a crush on him the first moment she set her eyes on him, but the crush lasted for all of twenty seconds. Dara was like that, she didn’t dwell on such things for long. Besides, there was a long line of church workers and other “spiritual sisters” she was sure would make the cut, so that had been that about that. “But this pastor makes sense oh, God created this type on the eighth day, I could just stare at him for days”. Dara couldn’t believe Zuwy too would notice him, she was usually reserved and unaffected by “fine boys”. “Oya oh, you too pick a number and join the queue”.

Chimdi just happened to be at the bank on the same day Dara had gone there to transact. He noticed her first and walked up to her. When she looked up to see who had tapped her shoulder, the only thought that crossed her mind was “Fine boy pastor”. He had noticed her at church a couple of times, and was wondering if she was new in town. He was so pleasant and easy on the eye..the kind of man Dara liked. He was going to wait for her to cash her cheque and would drop her off wherever she was going. They became fast friends. He was more like a big brother, always making sure she was okay and had no issues in school or at her off-campus residence. If she needed a ride back from church, he volunteered to give her one. When he couldn’t drop her off, he always got someone to do that. He would show up in her school for the flimsiest of reasons. “I just came to drop your lunch”, “I just came to take you home”, “it was raining and I thought it would be nice to come take you to school”. They had agreed they just wanted to be friends so Dara never understood why her friends kept telling her that Pastor Fine Boy was loving up on her. “Gosh, you girls amaze me, WE ARE JUST FRIENDS!”. She said that so often, she actually started to believe it.

Of course, some people in church had taken notice as well. Who was this mere mortal that suddenly had this man’s attention? She wasn’t even a worker or one you would consider “spiritual”. Some of his co-pastors would openly make statements to that effect and one day, when Dara had had enough of it, she had to vent. “I am so tired of getting nasty stares or openly rude remarks whenever I am around you. You need to cut me some slack going forward. I will take a cab to and from church, and you don’t need to come to my school either. We are just friends but obviously, your fellow pastors and some workers have an issue with that so please, leave me alone. Even the few people that I talk to in church have suddenly started acting nasty towards me because of you, as though i am snatching their boyfriend. I want to be left alone”. Chimdi could not believe his ears. He had constantly brushed the comments off, hoping that Dee would not notice. He really liked her, cared for her in a special way, enjoyed her company and her Calabar recipes, and was happy to finally have a friend that wasn’t just raving about his looks, but truly cared to relate with the person he was. They spent quite a lot of time together and few of his single friends who liked Dee would always ask him to hook them up with her. They would laugh about it and he told her he would introduce one when a serious one showed up. Life was just easier and sweeter with Dee in it. He missed her sorely whenever her school vacated and she had to go be with her family in Lagos. And of course he always found a reason to be in Lagos during the holidays. Now she wanted to be left alone. Nothing he said could persuade her to just let it go. He decided he would give her some space and time if that was what she needed. He wasn’t going to let his friend go just because some people didn’t think she was “ministry material”.

Zuwy and Kiishi had lots of comforting to do because Dara was inconsolable. And angry. Inconsolable because she missed Chimdi more than words could express, and angry because human beings had a way of minding other people’s business. Church folk…they were the worst kind. Why did she have to be like everyone else to be considered spiritual? She loved the Lord,  she lived for him, valued her growing relationship with him, she thought that was nearly enough. She hadn’t joined the Work Force because she had too many commitments in school and didn’t think it was right to always give excuses as to why she couldn’t always be available. She loved her dresses and her jeans, it was hard having to live by a colour code every Sunday. She wore a toe ring because she loved her beautiful toes and thought the ring made them prettier. Chimdi told her he was in love with her bow legs and full ankles so he bought her an anklet and begged her to wear it. He’d noticed she and stopped wearing one few weeks after she joined the church. She later explained that she had worn one all her adult life but she didn’t like the looks church folk gave her so she stopped. He said there was nothing wrong with wearing one, as long as the Holy Spirit did not convict her otherwise. He had plans to buy his wife a belly chain and that to Dara, was then definition of a deviant pastor. Everything was going well till church folk started talking. Now she missed Chimdi sorely and staying away from church was supposed to help her get him out of her life, but it only fueled the loneliness she felt. “This girl is in luuuuuurve! I thought you guys were just friends oh, according to you”. Kiishi got “The Look ” from Zuwy and that was enough to silence her for the rest of the day.

The separation did not last long. Chimdi was tired of missing her and off to her house he went. She was not there. So he waited. She never took his calls or replied his text messages anymore. She even took him off her BlackBerry. He wanted to slap himself for not having any of her friends’ phone numbers but that wouldn’t solve this, would it? He’d waited for a bit when thankfully,  his Dee walked through the gates. He knew she was going to try and act all cool and unaffected by his presence and he was just going to hug her and tell her how much he missed her, and that he didn’t care what anyone thought, he just wanted to be with her, if she would let him. He went home that night wishing they would quarrel more often just so that they would make up and it would be this sweet all over again. He was going to do all he could to protect her from side talks, he was a full grown man and had made his choice, he would marry his Dee and they would be happy forever. Dee was the kind of woman he wanted; smart, focused, neat, warm hearted, family oriented, friendly, God-loving and all. It didn’t hurt that she was quite the looker too and most importantly, she didn’t drool over his looks,  as a matter of fact, he had laughed his head off the day she told him she preferred to date and marry a guy people would refer to as ugly because she didn’t have time for “fine  boys and their unending drama”. She was just easy to be with, easy to love, she was every woman in one. He was taken aback by the fact that she was attending a Bible School when he met her, she didn’t look the type. She “just wanted to know more about God so she joined the Bible School”.  And those church folk, they would never know that about her, would they? She just wasn’t spiritual enough in their eyes.

Two years flew past and they got married in the most intimate ceremony ever. The joy was palpable, one could actually breathe it in. Their love was beautiful, the type most people only dreamt about. They had their ups and downs but that made it more beautiful. Dara had no doubts she would have a happy marriage,  but she also knew there would be down times and she was glad she had a God who would walk her through those times, and she was confident they would come out of every down time better than they had gone in. Married life was blissful. Chimdi was a man and a half. She felt like God’s last child, nothing could be sweeter. Out of the blue, Chimdi  was told he had to go start a new branch if the church in Asaba. He didn’t know how to take that piece of news. He had just gotten married, he was trying to settle in, his wife was about to start a new job and they had to leave all of that behind and just up and leave Abuja  for Asaba! Dee..she was speechless for days. “How on earth do you expect me to leave everything and move to Asaba? Was this our plan? What about my career, my business, everything..we just got married, Chimdi, and why Asaba of all places. I don’t even know where that is on the map. I am not going!” He knew better than to make an issue out of it, if the Lord was sending him there, He would make Dee come around. It was important to him that she supported the move, much as he wasn’t too pleased about moving from Abuja to a seemingly obscure corner of the earth. He knew she wanted to pursue her career as a diplomat and her chances were slim in Asaba, still he trusted God enough to know that He had better plans than he or Dee could ever have for their lives.

She was tired of agonizing over the impending move. She had learnt to trust God even when she didn’t understand where He was taking her through. If God wanted them in Asaba, He would make all things work together for their good.
Chimdi had assured her everything would fall into place. She believed him, just as she believed every other thing he had told her and things always panned out the way he had said they would. She hadn’t seen her friends after the wedding as Zuwy lived in Calabar with her medical doctor husband while Kiishi was away in the UK for her Masters. Her parents had come to say their goodbyes and assured her everything would go well in Asaba.

Asaba turned out to be a sedate town, unlike Abuja in many ways. She was glad Chimdi was  Igbo , so that barrier had been broken to an extent. “Maybe I will finally get to learn Igbo now that I’m in Asaba” , but she knew it would take a miracle. English, French and German were work enough, adding Igbo to it would be an overkill, still she would try, for Chimdi’s sake. Planting a church was no picnic. She found renewed respect for church overseers who were able to plant several branches of their ministries around the country. She would do her best to support Chimdi and she prayed everyday that the city would accept him and his ministry. Some days she was on a high, on other days, all she wanted to do was run away to Abuja, where she had some friends,  knew familiar faces, could start her career, had a church of at least familiar faces….

Weeks turned into months and things began to look up. She was happy. She even started to laugh whenever people referred to her as “Mama”, something she really hated and found absolutely unnecessary. Chimdi told her they would go on their honeymoon as soon as church was settled and she looked forward to that. She had taught it would be as automatic as building a structure on which the church would run, having people in place who would fill in the gaps when they were away and all would be dandy. Chimdi always told her that spiritual things could not always be calculated the same way physical things, but she was sure things would go her way. She hoped they would, for both their sakes.

Everyday brought on new challenges. It was difficult making new friends in church because most of the ladies were older than her and she imagined they wouldn’t take it kindly that such a young girl was the pastor’s wife. Few people had an issue with the fact that she was a fashionista. They would never know that Dara always wanted to study Fashion Designing until her father said “not in this house”, after which she decided to pursue her plan B: a diplomatic career.  Her mother was quite a fashionista too; this apple didn’t fall too far from the tree. When few people began to seek her advise on things she considered were not her business to know, she became scared. “Chimdi…what am I to say to these people? What do I know about a cheating spouse or a twisted sexuality? How do I counsel someone struggling with their sexuality? This is way beyond me, I just want to run away. Why did you bring me here?”. Chimdi let her cry her heart out and he just held her close and let her know it was going to be alright, she would have to rely on the Holy Spirit to help her and she would have to learn to pace herself. If she really wanted to work, he would help her look for a job and she didn’t have to kill herself if she couldn’t get a job, she could start her fashion business which she had always dreamt of having. That sounded comforting a bit but she couldn’t help saying to him: “One day you will just wake up and discover that I have run away to Abuja and you will be in this town all by yourself doing ministry”. He couldn’t help but smile very widely, he knew his Dee was going nowhere, she loved him enough to stay by his side through all of this, and that was one of the few things that made sense to him at that point in his life.

If Chimdi had learnt anything in these few months of planting a church, it was that working with people with all kinds of mindset was one of the hardest hurdles to get through. He was constantly dealing with one issue after the other and Dee always told him he could only do his best and to always remember that this was the Church of Jesus Christ and He would take care of it. That was a hard pill to swallow, but he would try. Trying wasn’t good enough, for he began to get so engrossed in the work of the ministry and he and Dee began to drift apart. All he wanted to talk about was church: the choir, workers’ meeting, auditions, out reaches, church and some more church. He spent more and more time studying and doing the work of ministry, he didn’t even notice his Dee begin to slip away. He would always think “my baby is still angry we are in Asaba…she’ll get over it”. Things began to pick up in the ministry, he was a happy man, he just didn’t notice that Dee had stopped being excited about the growth and all the wonderful things that were beginning to happen. If her marriage was the price she had to pay for the growth and influence the ministry was currently experiencing, then God was a wicked God, period!

He was excited the date for her trip with her friends was fast approaching. Surely, some fresh air, sun and the girls would do her good. Oh, and shopping. Dee loved to shop. The fashionista in her was evident in everything she did and he was always so proud whenever they went places and heads turned to look at his wife. She was stylish beyond her years. The very thought of that made him not mind the hole this trip would bore in his pocket. He just wanted her to have a break. He was tired of hearing her whine about the fact that their honeymoon was nowhere in sight and he needed a break before the stress of ministry rendered her a widow before her time. “Baby, you really need to take a break oh, don’t render me husbandless before my time. Anyway, na you go lose because one sharp man will come and marry me”. He loved to hear her pidgin, it reminded him of how she always said she was his “Sofisticat” outside and his “Mgbeke” indoors. “Babe, leave that thing abeg, Jesus boy no dey die. Who go fit marry this my calabar princess”. That brought a smile to his lips. He loved his Mgbeke so much…much more than words could ever express.

“If you girls don’t wake up now I promise you I will eat your food”. That was vintage Kiishi. Everyone was jealous of how she seemed to eat just about anything she wanted to and miraculously remained skinny. She loved to eat, but hated to cook. “Foodie of life, no try yourself oh, I am wide awake”. She hadn’t slept a wink. She’d been to lost on memory lane and didn’t even notice she had started crying. She was sure that by then, Chimdi would have seen the stinker she left him on his pillow. She had been so upset that he was insisting she stayed in Dubai for twelve days when she and the girls had planned to stay for just five days. Clearly he needed her out of his way so he could do more ministry work and counsel all those girls with their never-ending issues that they refused to talk to her about, but had no issues talking to her Chimdi about. HER CHIMDI..she wasn’t going to share him with all those church girls, those sharp Igbo and Delta  babes that thought she was a “Calabar girl” in name only.

The first few days in Dubai passed quickly. The girls couldn’t help but notice just how distant and uninterested she was in all the activities they had pre-planned. Zuwy knew they had to stage an intervention but knowing Dara, she would become defensive and the goal would be defeated. Left to Kiishi, she would have just asked Dara point blank what the problem was but Zuwy was having none of that. “Marriage is not this one you are always doing fire brand oh, you will approach the matter carefully and with a lot of wisdom”. To this Kiishi rolled her eyes and silently thanked God that she was not yet married and didn’t have to deal with all these married women issues. They had to leave for the Gold Souk any moment though, so Dara had to be woken up. This was their last day together and they had to make the most of it.

Dara was spent. She had cried so much her head hurt. When Kiishi jumped on her bed in her usual wake up call, the reaction she got made her do a double take. “What the hell is wrong with you? Jumping on my bed like an insane person. Are you out of your mind? Get the hell off my bed before I do something very nasty to you”. Zuwy could only stare in shock. They knew she was dealing with stuff but this outburst was just off the chain. “I want to be left alone, please, just go away”. The girls weren’t having any of that . “Lai lai! You have been on your own since we arrived here. You were the one looking forward to this trip, you took the effort to plan it and now we are here, all you have done is shut us out as though we are the enemy. Whatever it is, we will resolve it now. You will not go back to Naija a sober mess. Oya, start talking. You don’t have to tell us the details but at least tell us what the problem is”. Kiishi had had enough of the long faces and stated in clear terms that this was the moment where they would have to talk and cry together before things got out of hand. Dara felt powerless to fight two caring women, she knew the time had come to let it all out. She just pulled the duvet over her head and cried forever. Her friends got on her bed and held her and just let her cry till she was spent and she slept off.

When she woke up, her girls were still there. “What time is it?”, she asked no one in particular. “Time to rise and shine. Go shower, you stink! And your boo has been calling you all day”. Chimdi! She hadn’t even called him since she arrived. Her phone had been on silent mode and that was on purpose. She couldn’t get over the fact that her friends had been so busy pinging all day, everyday, since they arrived. “Lucky them…Chimdi  probably doesn’t even care that I haven’t called him”. Oh well, she would just go shower and go out with the girls. She had seven more days to stay here alone so she would not pressure herself to shop today. The shower did her good, she felt brand new and was quite surprised that none of the girls had started shouting for her to come out already. “Let me have mercy on them and come out now oh”. She toweled her body leisurely and for once, she actually started to look forward to going to the Gold Souk. She was going to buy a new belly chain today “that’s if Chimdi will even notice”.

As she made her way back into the room, she was already teasing her friends “shoppers, no vex oh, I really needed that bath”. Her friends were nowhere in sight. In place of two girls, she saw that fine, six feet three inch specimen of protoplasm, the one that made her heart skip several beats once upon a time. “Baby…I’ve been calling you for days. I’ve missed you so much”. He wasn’t sure how she would react to his presence and reading the stinker she left him had scared the living daylights out of him. She had said she wanted to go back to Abuja when she arrived, she wanted a divorce and he could marry the church, since that was all he had come to care about. What she didn’t know was that he wanted her to stay an extra week in Dubai so he could surprise her by coming over and whisking her away to their honey moon suite. She was weak from all the crying, too weak to be angry, but not too weak for the tears to come rushing down all over again. He didn’t need to be told that she needed him to hold her and tell her everything would be alright from here on. In one single step, they were on each others’ arms and the tears flowed freely…

“So you want to leave me abi? Who do you want to marry your own husband? You want me to die an unhappy man…I though we said we’d be together forever no matter the weather, what changed?” Asaba. That’s what happened. He didn’t need a prophet to tell him that much. “Babes, I’ve told you, you need to stop obsessing, just pace yourself and flow. I’m not pressuring you to be a Pastor’s wife. Can you just take the labels and tags off and just be Chimdi’s wife? Stop obsessing about the pastor’s wife mould that people have created. Be you. I married you for you, I didn’t marry a pastor’s wife. If you hate Asaba so much, maybe we should relocate cos I can’t be doing ministry when my marriage is not working. And I know I’ve been too engrossed in all of that and that’s why I asked you to stay here so I could surprise you with our honeymoon but you have been so angry with me, you didn’t even read my text messages.” Whenever she got that angry, he always had a way of taking her back into a good mood. She felt so small…his love had a way of making her see how irrational she could be. ” I’m sorry” she could barely talk as the tears choked her. “No, I am the one who’s sorry, I should have paid more attention. Forgive me babes”.

He couldn’t stand her crying so much but he knew he had to let her get it all out. He was even more scared she had thought about divorce, especially as he was of the opinion they both agreed their marriage was a house without doors for exit, only windows for ventilation. “Baby..would you really ever just walk out on us  if things got really bad? Divorce…that’s such a strong word, how do you just bandy such a word that easily though?” She knew he would not fail to bring that up. “I’m sorry, I was just trying to get your attention. I really am that overwhelmed by all this ministry thing going on all at once, and those girls always wanting to see you with their tall tales they can tell only you and never me. Especially that Amaka..I swear that girl has got the hots for you”. He couldn’t believe his ears and couldn’t help but laugh his head off. “Daramfon Archibong Chimdi-Uma, shame on you! Amaka of all people? Abeg now, gimme some credit here. Amaka? By how? Kai this woman you are a riot!”. Now she felt really foolish. But you know, with these men, you never know. This  she quickly amended to “this is My Chimdi, not these men”.  She would have to just try and get past this but his riotous laughter wasn’t helping her in any way. “Let me get dressed so we go look for the girls, yeah? What’s the plan…what are we doing today? I’m hungry” The girls were the last thing on Pastor Fine Boy’s mind.  “Err..the girls…i paid them off to go shopping for the next three hours…we’ll all do the dinner cruise tonight so I can hear all the things you told them about me, tomorrow we leave for our honeymoon suite and we’ll take it from there. I know buying you a belly chain is in the works somewhere, but for now, no need to get dressed, you look yummy in your skin and i’m hungry too”. She knew that tone, something delicious was about to go down. “This boy! You’re such a baaaad boy!” His deepest baritone crept up on him, “You know this, babes, you know this..come here…”

Written by Abasiama Obi-Chinedu

Abasiama is a graduate of Foreign Languages and Literatures from the University of Port Harcourt. She’s a bilingual translator/interpreter by profession and runs a fashion retail and merchandising business. She’s married and co-pastors a thriving church with her husband.