I’m probably only writing in this much detail cos my blog is anonymous. Looking back on a lot of it now, I did some stupid shit back in the day… but as Stella Obasanjo might say now if she could: “Hindsight is 20/20”
At 18, I met this Yoruba guy AM at an African Picnic, he was 24 , nice, alright looking, and had a good job. From the get- go, dude was a softie. On our first date he took me, my best friend and brother’s girlfriend to dinner. Boy, did we spend his money, Lol…second date, he got me a cell phone. We started dating a few weeks later; he was nice- maybe too nice. I’d piss him off and he’d call me back to apologize, the one time he actually did something wrong, he took me serious shopping at GUESS. My friends liked him, my sister liked him, I liked him, but my major problem was that I had more strength of will than he did… I mean every girl wants a man who’s a MAN. One Friday like that, I went to spend the weekend at his house with my best friend; apparently he had a serious work meeting to attend on Sunday morning. On Saturday morning, he tells us he’s going to buy a suit for the meeting and comes back in the evening with a brand new designer suit and video camera. I’m thinking video camera for what? Was Bill Gates or President Bush going to be at the meeting? But my best friend told me I was wilding out so I decided to keep shut. Homeboy left on Sunday morning and came back at night. He wouldn’t show us the taping of the all- important meeting; apparently the video camera didn’t work there… Hmmm. During that time period, I’d become really close to his best friend HS, and you just won’t believe what HS told me a week later- my boyfriend AM’s 'sunday work meeting' had actually been his child’s christening. CHILD?!?!?! CHRISTENING WHO? WHAT? WHEN? HOW? WHY? I called AM and broke up with him … since in our 3-4 months of dating he’d hidden that and lied to my face, I could never trust him again about anything. He started begging; I just cursed him out and hung up. Negro was calling the hell out of my phone (lol... yes, I know, his phone if you wanted to be technical about things), I never picked up, so he resorted to calling me private and breathing into my damn ears till I told him I’d call the cops. About two days later, walking home from a lecture, I saw AM in the parking lot of my residence, he came to talk to me and started apologizing… it was over with his baby mama, but he just had to be there for the kid and just didn’t know how to tell me blah blah blah… I obviously wasn’t having it… but to my shock and surprise… homeboy started crying. WTF!!! Wow, I couldn’t not forgive him, but I specifically asked if there was any other thing he was hiding from me cos I couldn’t stand any more lies… he said no… so I took him back. Boy was he ever the attentive and sweet boyfriend… things were nice until his friend HS called me again two weeks later.
HS: Overwhelmed, you’re a sweet girl, and even though AM is my close friend, I just have to tell you- AM is married; separated from his wife- but married.
WHAT!?!? I exploded… the lying bastard… I swear if he had been around me when I heard this, I would’ve hurt him so bad. The things I told him before I broke up with him that day I will not repeat on this blog. At 18, I’d dated a married man… my only consolation was that I’d never had sex with the bastard… but holy shit... I’d kissed his lying ass lips… motherfucker had left a really bad taste in my mouth.
At 19, I met DD at a mall. I was looking something fierce, and so was he. DD was Igbo, 26, tall and cute. We hit it off and dude was just nuts about me…apparently, he was amazed to meet a naija girl- classy, smart, focused, gorgeous, tall, nice and Igbo at that (lol.. his words not mine). Till this day, I’m not sure I know exactly what he did for a living… He said 'stocks' but he had a certain ‘419 bluetooth representative’ aura about him. He took me to some of the most posh restaurants I’ve ever been to… but seemed to lack some class - could’ve been his ‘Igbotic’ accent, American pro footballer physique (I prefer skinnier guys), or the fact that he consistently called me ‘bebe’- not babe or baby. Anyways, fast forward to a date of two later, homeboy tells me he wants to surprise me. As a girl, you expect some roses, perfume, or if he’s feeling particularly generous- some jewelry…. YEAH RIGHT. Mr. Sugar Lover DD pulled up in front of a MOTEL… yup, motel. Steam was coming out my ears; I was soo pissed. What sort of girl did he take me to be? Motel? Me… a classy, smart, focused, gorgeous, tall and nice Igbo girl? I didn’t bloody think so. It was soo ugly, tacky, dingy and cheap. Take me home I insisted. He called me later and apologized profusely about the motel thing cos he knew I wasn’t that sort of girl. Luckily for him, I’m all for giving people a second chance cos some folk just don’t know any better. Another thing that pissed me off about him was the fact that he felt the need to tell me that he’d had sex with his ex on their first date and then proceeded to date her for 5 years…. Like what the fuck does this have to do with the price of petroleum in my neighbourhood? Nothing? Exactly my point. Anyways, on our next date, we kissed for the first time. The plan was to go and have dinner, but guess where homeboy pulls up? IN FRONT OF THE SAME DAMN MOTEL!!! I made him drop me off somewhere and got another friend to come and drive me home. Suffice to say, I never picked up his calls after that, and have completely ignored him the few times I’ve seen him since. IDIOTIC NIGERIAN NIGGA LOOKING FOR CHEAP THRILLS… BARKING UP THE WRONG TREE NIGGA!!!
Fast Forward a few months later, still 19, I was single and ready to mingle. I met BB @ a club. 25, cute, Yoruba guy with a nice accent and personality. We talked for a few weeks before we eventually went on a dinner date… he was attentive, witty, smart, complimentary… maybe a little too complimentary… Nigga was waxing poetic- talking about I had cute fingernails; he loved my shoes, my lipgloss, my bracelets, my ‘blonde’ hair… that was a bit much. I mean I know I’m sexy, well put- together and all that, you just don’t have to compliment every single thing I’m wearing. But asides from that, the date was progressing very nicely… BB was a homebody and appreciated a sophisticated girl who knew her way around the best places in town (lol… not my fault, I’ve just been on tons of dates). He was already looking forward to a second date, which I was open to. At one point during the meal, I went to the washroom and came back to homeboy chatting Yoruba something furious on his cell phone. No Yoruba guy that I meet will ever know that I understand 70% of his language… call me sly, I just call it ‘having an advantage’. Anyways, he was telling his friend how I was so sexy, nice, interesting and how much fun we were having. However, his only problem was that I wasn’t open to the idea of coming home with him; I wasn’t putting out but he knew what to do on our next date… he would definitely hit it. WTF!?!?!? I guess my composure changed cos his next question was “Overwhelmed, you don’t understand Yoruba right?” I smiled “Of course not” HORNY, IDIOTIC FOOL. He was at ease again. Suffice to say it was the first and last date... Hit It KO… Arrange It NI
(LOL… Sorry people, I know the narrative is a bit long… but y’all asked for it… there’s only one part left)
TO BE CONTINUED