I’m 20, in a good place in my life right now with a good guy… I’m obviously not looking to get married anytime soon, so I’m just enjoying my relationship and open to seeing where it goes. My boyfriend is not Igbo, Nigerian, or even African. Most Nigerian guys that try to talk to you and hear that you ‘have a man’, try to discredit your relationship for ‘obvious reasons’:
· He’s a foreigner
· He can’t take care of you
· He won’t understand you
· He’ll just use you and dump you for his kind eventually…
that sort of rubbish.
This implies that on the contrary, Nigerian guys commit to and marry every girl they date. Because I’ve heard this same yarn a lot recently, it sort of got me to thinking about naija guys that I’ve known, liked and/or dated, and how they’ve “understood and taken care of me”:
At 13, JC was my first boyfriend. The second cutest boy in my school really liked me. He held my hands and walked me home from school everyday, sang to me and wrote me poetry. He convinced me I didn’t need to wear the trendy ‘black lip-liner’, as it would mar my natural beauty. It was probably the purest relationship I ever had; maybe the only time I could honestly say the guy liked me more for my mind and personality than my booty and glorious boobs (lol… that’s probably cos they were just little knobs at the time). We dated for 10 months, saw each other in school everyday, but only kissed a few times. It ended just as sweetly as it’d begun, with a kiss…. and a farewell to Canada. This naija boy- naija girl relationship boded well for others to come.
OR SO I THOUGHT
At 16, I was in Canada, had adapted to the culture (meaning I’d grown to love poutines, ice cappuccinos and pizza, and could pull off a pretty good Canadian accent). Anyways, I went to a Nigerian party with my mom and saw all sorts- 419 ‘bluetooth’ representatives, Nigerian- Canadian girls feeling sexy in their leather jackets, a number of fat white girls looking for naija guys to brainwash them, and ‘the others’. I went to get a soda and the bartender started chatting me up... he seemed different. Long story short- I gave him my number. KK was 22, a male nurse, seemed nice, settled, but CALABAR!!! It was really hard to get past that the fact that he probably ate dog meat, but get over it, I did. We’d been dating for only 2 weeks when homeboy started pressing me to come to his house to meet his mother and sleep over!?!?!?!? WTF… 1 was 16… Needless to say, I broke up with him… 2 dinner dates and 2 weeks of dating…. as my uncle would say: “Good riddance to bad rubbish”.
A year later, at 17, I went to another Nigerian party with my mom and some family friends (lol... I know... me and the Nigerian parties… my mom dragged me… I swear). A male friend of my family friend liked me and wanted to talk to me outside… I looked at his face…. not interested… I refused. He came back inside and somehow interested me in conversation. He was 21, in college, very nice, funny, interesting … hmmm, I thought... maybe I should give him a chance; I gave him my number. I mean I ‘obviously’ had no intention of dating him… we’d just be friends… YEAH, RIGHT. We started talking and hit it off big time…we talked on the phone for hours each night for about two months… he asked me out and I said yeah… note, we still hadn’t been on a date yet. The next weekend, he decided he was gonna take me to see a movie. OH MY GOD, MC WAS FUGLY… WTF… I COULD NOT BE SEEN WITH HIM… HE WAS ALL CHEEKBONES…LOOKED LIKE A DAMN SKELETON. I cursed the dim lights of that naija party for obscuring ‘this’ from me. There was no way out of it…. he was already on my bloody doorstep… stepping towards me with arms wide open and his version of a smile… bout Hey Baby. I hated the way he looked, but I felt terrible that I felt that way, cos I could only imagine what that said about me. I understood that I needed to be attracted to someone to date them, but since I’d fallen for his personality, wouldn’t I be shallow if I just broke up with him because I liked his voice but not his face? He was still ‘nice, funny and interesting’, so we dated for maybe 3 months after this date; I probably only saw him 3 times in total. Oh, and he gave me a better reason to break up with him cos the black man was jealous (Where are you going? Who are you going with? You going to look for guys? If not, then why can’t I come with you? How many hours are you going to spend there? What are you going to wear there?... that sort of mess). I told him I knew he didn’t trust me and I couldn’t deal with that, but that I’d love to keep his friendship as it was so important to me (eye roll- yeah, whatever).
*Oh, did I mention that after all his pleading for us to be remain together, when he realized I wasn’t having it, he asked me to return to him the $150 jeans he bought me for my birthday (lol… I guess that could be because I broke up with him three days after my birthday).*
TO BE CONTINUED