The Danger of a Midnight Cuddle

I love to hug and cuddle. A whole lot.

For me, I believe it’s one of the most powerful ways to express affection and show how much someone means to you. In a manner of speaking, sharing a deep hug or cuddling next to someone you love can be quite emotional and relaxing. You can actually have an inkling how much someone cares just by the way and manner of hug and cuddles they pass your way.

Which was why during the early wooing stages when Hubby was still trying to justify why no other creation of God could make me as happy as he could (Yep, he said it), one of the first questions I asked him was:

“Do you like PDA”? (Mehn, that question was very important as I didn’t want to end up with a guy who would post on Facebook or Twitter “Happy Birthday to the love of my life, you know yourself!” And 38 girls would happily smile and gush thinking it was them)

Hubby is the last person you can catch unawares though. With a very mushy expression, he held my hands and pledged his undying support for PDA and his belief that it was a way of reassuring a woman how deeply he loves her. He even rubbed my hand affectionately in that public spot we were that day just to show me how much PDA I could look forward to if I could simply just promise to be his prize for the rest of eternity. He even went ahead to promise he would name our first daughter with my name. Now he is saying that royal name of mine is old school.

Fast forward to many months of marriage and Hubby has been able to prove that he is not averse in any way to public display of affection. And as a woman, there are just some days you come home and just want to nestle into the crook of your man’s arms, crooning and moaning about the hassles of the day. Hubby indulges me during these times and even ruffles my head in affection while he presses away on his phone and chats across 3 groups.

That should have been the warning sign. The head ruffle. The same type you give to your Chihuahua that you named Champagne, Fluffy, Petal, or one of those exotic names you give to pets that are very close to the floor without letting them distract you.

Apart from being a lover of hugs and cuddles, I am also a light sleeper. So most times when I wake around midnight to ease myself, getting back to sleep is usually nearly impossible. It’s during these sleepless moments I usually want to experience some warm cuddles the most. Hubby knows this and though indulges me most times, he is quick to stop me with a glaring look when he sees I’ve got the mushy look of “I’m coming in for a cuddle” and especially when he just showers and still basking in the coolness of his own body.  And when I’m hit by these emotions at night, I look at Hubby on the other side of bed looking so peaceful while snoring softly with his arms flung over his head and one tucked away by his neck or stomach and I just want to nestle close and cuddle to sleep there.

However, when you have been married for many months to a man who takes after Jackie Chan in moves when woken abruptly and needs up to 30 years to join we mortals back on earth after disrupting his sleep, you try to be wise and plan your cuddly midnight moments accordingly to avoid sharing the same looks with a battered thief on the street of Lagos.

So on that fateful night, Hubby had earlier warned me not to go to bed early as I stood a higher chance of waking early and not being able to  go back to sleep. But I had ignored. I was just too tired. And he didn't bother to argue nor warned me not to disturb him when I woke. It wasn't necessary as I was a very peaceful bedtime mate and never had I had the cause to wake him in the past.

At around midnight, I woke abruptly and with a sense of sadness, shone my flashlight to check the time. It was 12:45am. I knew the rest of the night was going to be long. As soon as I had relieved myself, I shone the light briefly at Hubby’s sleeping silhouette and I was enveloped by a rush of warmth. He is the only one I know who looks so innocent while asleep. Lying on his back, with his head facing the wall and with his hand flung across his head and one tucked peacefully by his neck, I dove in for a cuddle nestling so close I could hear his gentle heartbeat while using my free arm to softly rub his chest as it heaved up and down slowly.

The first sign of trouble was when the soft snoring stopped suddenly and he turned his head swiftly to look down at what was nestling under his arm. While he did this, I knew I had made a mistake and I had up to 20 seconds as Hubby required some questions to be answered mentally before gaining back his reality- Where am i? Who is this? What year are we? Has Soyinka been released? Is Abacha dead? Have we gained independence? Have they found Shekau? How did I come to being? What nestles in my arm so? What have I done? Are we alone? Who gave me life? Is this heaven?” And so many other questions I imagine he gets answers to before joining us back on planet earth.

I was aware the answers to these questions would take up to 20-30 seconds in his mind so I resignedly waited for it.

I can’t really explain what happened next or if there was any external assistance or whether he simply wished it in his mind and it happened. All I knew was that like a millipede suddenly hit with salt, my eyes only had time to register the swift Jet Li move Hubby did with the arm where my head was nestled and like a surreal movie, I watched the way my head and whole body was ejected out of those arms I was admiring some seconds back like a cracked CD in a Blu-ray system. 

I still maintain that the duvet smiled at me when my fallen butt joined it, right on the floor where I’d thrown it earlier in the night. And the soft snoring continued. Almost immediately from the bed above. Like it never happened. And I had simply chosen to sleep on the floor, albeit an askew position possible to do by myself.

He still denies ever doing such. Doesn't matter though, I already learned that when it comes to Hubby, a midnight cuddle is as dangerous as a cold bath during the harmattan season. So I just maintain my side and only cuddle during the day when it’s much safer. 

Fast and Furious 8: The Naija Marriage Edition

I am an undiscovered Formula One driver.

"Tejumade Shakirat Fola- Alade of Osun state!!!!!" Hubby Screamed. "Did you not see that Pot hole?!"

"Which pothole? That small gallop?" Hian!

I was driving on the express way at a speed that would have made even Vin Diesel’s character in the Fast and Furious franchise smile with glee. Hubby was hunched at a corner in the car with a look of horror on his face, but after all it’s an expressway and I wasn’t even at 120Km/h yet and he was complaining.

I am one of the most impatient drivers on the streets of Lagos. And a lot of my friends who have witnessed my driving antics behind the wheels would agree wholeheartedly.

Oh yes, they complain and whine about how fast I was going but I always have the same question for them all, “But did you die? Shebi you are still alive”, and I usually ask further “how come you always come to me when you need to get somewhere quickly”

Ok, maybe I don't go that fast but many have sworn this was all they saw

Even Hubby, whose attention span for everything is shorter than the shortest fuse in the world, pays the most attention when I’m behind the wheels and is usually quick to share some advice, “Be careful o”, “Watch that pot hole o”, “What are you driving”, “You are too fast madam”, “Park let me come and drive”, “Are you aware you have left your lane”, “You are just a menace to Lagos streets”, "You drive like a bank robber", You must have been a car smuggler in your past life", “Your license should be revoked“ I’m never letting you drive again, ever”.

 He will drone on and on. But I usually have the same response for him just like everyone else, “But did you die or have an accident”?

Now you should understand me; I am the number one, okay maybe number two, fine maybe not in the top thirty, but an ardent follower of road regulations. I believe in maintaining one lane from the beginning of a road till the end of a road, well, except a truck breaks down and we are all redirected to join another lane, just that when I move on that particular lane, I move very fast and with precision.

Outside of that, I am a very vocal advocate of maintaining road sanity. Despite this belief though, I do not waste time on Lagos roads. When I drive, I drive with purpose, focus, determination and unbelievable calculation. And God bless anyone who dares to enter my lane. For me, driving is like success. To achieve it, you need an admirable level of focus, unwavering concentration, dogged determination, swiftness and precision.

And the way I drive is exactly the way I eat, write, think and birth scalable ideas, swift, fast and with concentrated precision. Hubby on the other hand is another story when it comes to eating, but thank God he makes up for his eating peeves with other important things I want him to.

Eating for me is an art form, a beautiful flow of movement that must be made with precision. From the minute the meal is ready to the time I serve myself and sit to eat, I work with careful shrewdness and precise clarity.

Before the meal is served, I get my tray ready, ensure the plates, cutlery and serviette is properly laid beside the tray, well cleaned and devoid of any stain, the glass cup is placed perpendicularly to the chosen dish and once I dish the meal, I clean any new stain either on the tray or the dish itself. The water in the glass cup has to reach a certain level to be allowed to make its way into my throat. And when I finally place the meal either in the living room or bedroom, the cooling unit or fan must be well regulated to ensure I don’t sweat. Then I press the ‘play’ button on either my laptop or TV to watch a selected movie that will match the pace of the meal I am about to consume.

I maintain that position until I am done with the meal. No change of movement, no change of hands, no interference from anything whatsoever (I believe it’s a sin to respond to calls or chats while eating.). And like a robot, I eschew external activities outside the goal of consuming that meal with respect and reverence.

For me, food is an art that needs concentration

Because of this rigid process I have adopted when eating, I concluded few days after my wedding that Hubby and I would probably never get to eat from the same plate. NEVER!!!!!

Many have tried though to romantically make us eat together. I mean, I have gone to some places where we were not even asked before we would see just one plate of rice and one soup bowl with maybe 2 pieces or 4 pieces of meat waltz into the room in the hands of the naive guest, depending on how (un)expected the visit was. Whenever situations like this occur, Hubby and I makes it clear with a very straight face that such should not repeat itself or we will start a family feud with the erring parties.

You see, the reason is not as a result of abundance of love or lack of it thereof. The reason is simply that: when it comes to food, Hubby and I are the opposites of two different coins from two different countries. When it comes to food, Hubby and I are like two peas in two different pods on two different trees. When it comes to food, I am Saturn, and Hubby is Uranus. I am Fire, Hubby is Ice. We simply do not blend. Because, just like my driving pattern, my food pattern reflects same: quick, prompt, swift, purposeful, determined and moving with a passion. 

Hubby on the other hand believes that after one spoon of rice or any meal he could be having, he is entitled to a return trip to all online websites, respond to some urgent official enquiries, whatever is showing on Sound-City, MTV Base or CNN, the latest series, who’s saying what on his BBM, have a heated BBM discussion with OSAKA on who’s hotter between myself, Amber Rose and Kim Kardashian, if any of his group chat buddies requires his urgent attention before finally coming to take the second spoon of meal and repeat the whole cycle. And after 3-4 hours of these activities, not only would I be done eating, I would already be thinking what next we should have for dinner or breakfast the next day.

Add a phone, a BBM charger, a tab and a DVD remote to the equation please

So most times when innocent couples get to pair us to enjoy a meal together from the same plates and soup bowls, the scenarios are usually the same, always, and at all times:

I remember one particular incident when we went to visit some friends which nearly began a civil war;

*A tray containing a plate of rice and another with stew was brought into the living room. Hubby and I looked on suspiciously as we expected our hosts to make another trip to the kitchen but got disappointed when they sat and grinned at us happily like they just saved our marriage by pairing our meals together. *

Hubby to Hosts: “E ku ise oh, ermm, may I ask why you put our food together?”

*I looked on belligerently at the guests waiting for justification of such anomaly*

Hosts: “*While still smiling lovingly and affectionately at us, they responded* Ahn ahn are you not husband and wife?”

Hubby: “Please next time let’s all respect ourselves o, THIS WAS WHAT CAUSED CIVIL WAR IN MOGADISHU”

Me: *Frowning, I noticed that one spoon was larger than the other but knowing well what to expect from Hubby, I gave him the larger spoon and took the smaller much but much more mobile one.

Hubby: I see you are feeling submissive today, you gave me the bigger spoon.

Me: * Still frowning* “Please let’s eat, I am hungry”.

Hubby: “The turkey and brokoto are for me o. You take the chicken and gizzard”

Me: *Continues eating as I take the 6^th round of spoon while he was still trying to get his phone from his pocket and adjust his sitting position*

Hubby: “You are too fast o. You are finishing the stew.”

Hubby: “He picks up his Tab, Phone, asks the guests for the TV remote and begins his round the world in a few hours journey as I eat with purpose, clarity and vision.

*While he does this, I quickly took half of the Turkey, a quarter of the brokoto and hid the remaining in the rice*

*He continues pressing his phone and doesn’t notice.

Me: “Sweety, eat fast na so we can clear this place on time.

Hubby: “Please don’t rush me o.”

Me: *Takes the final 24^th spoon of rice and stood to go to the living room area to gist with our guests.

*I am hardly out of the dining room area when I hear a scream “What happened to my chicken and Gizzard?”, hurrying away at what is about to come but unapologetic. I was just happy I had reduced the amount of time he would be spending on that dining table by assisting in eating his meat. I quickly started gisting with our guests while we waited for Hubby to round off.

*Very many years later after our last child graduates from Harvard and our guests have relocated to California, Hubby drops the well eaten turkey bone, took a final sweep of the brokoto bone with his tongue, wipes his mouth with his serviette and looks across to me where I’m already grey haired and rocking our fourth grandchild to sleep and says* “Baby I’m done eating”.

Na today! Shebi it’s Hubby.

The Problem With 50 Shades of Grey.........

I’m a core romantic, both at heart and in deeds.

I am that person that sees sweet little cupid arrows behind every smile exchanged between an adoring couple, that wedding guest that excitedly looks out for the bride and groom's chemistry either through their dance moves or the way they exchange sweet little kisses. I am also that passerby that looks out for chemistry everywhere on the street, gushing, oohing and aah-ing over the couple who seemed and looked so adorable.

I also fantasize a lot. While growing up, I invested a lot of my pocket money on Harlequins, Mills & Boons as well as Silhouette novels. And once I purchased a new romance novel and got introduced to the hot hero in question, I would spend the next few days fantasizing and daydreaming I was the lucky woman in the novel lucky enough to have the tall, dark and handsome hero to myself who usually seemed too perfect.(But that didn't matter then.)

Until I got to purchase another novel and another hot Viscount, Lord or Duke was introduced to me, my fantasy was usually fixated on my latest read. And in all these novels, the men usually started out forcing the women to either kiss them, sleep with them or fall in love with them. Some of these men even forcefully slept with women who are then portrayed to have ended up enjoying the sex thereby psychologically convincing the readers that it was not actually rape since the women ended up having an orgasm. In all these novels, the men’s charm always overrode their complaints and they became pliant and even got to fall in love. (I'm surprised that feminists are yet to react to these novels as many realistic romantic lives got ruined early due to the expectations these novels set that made women want the unrealistic from their men who were usually portrayed as forceful in these novels but end up getting their way)

Note that most romantic novels are written by women, including 50 Shades of Grey.

I stopped reading novels completely just before I rounded off my NYSC as priorities had changed and chose to focus more on career work, more academic content and upgraded to motivational books. However, when 50 Shades of Grey was released as a novel across the world and the buzz became louder than the engine of a locomotive train, I joined the band wagon and purchased the book.

I’d be lying if I said I did not have some jimmies jammies in my tummy whenever Anastasia and Christian so much as looked as each other as portrayed in the novel. Yes, the story was rather unrealistic but we have got to admit that such chemistry in the real world would flame up any bedroom! I concluded it would be great to watch the movie in real life and see how it panned out.

As soon as Hubby and I learnt the movie had been released across cinemas in Lagos, we tried our best possible to catch up with it at the cinema knowing fully well it would soon be banned but we couldn't. We had to resort to looking for who had downloaded the movie. 

Lo and behold, a good hacker Samaritan blessed us with the HD uncut version of it. (Shout out to that hacker Samaritan of life that can download anything from anywhere! - Universal Pictures is watching you on 3D!). 

So armed with two packs of Malteasers under the duvet with some chilled Wilson's lemonades as well as a couple of well seasoned fried turkeys, Hubby and I laid to watch 50 Shades of Grey, in frenzied anticipation, fiery tension and giggling fervor wondering but hoping we would also get carried away like the lady that forgot her pair of panties at the cinema after watching the movie.(We even had to dim the bedroom lights in case we got carried away and wanted to move things seamlessly to the next level. lol) 

Oh boy, I had never felt like I had wasted many years of my life in a few minutes after watching just some few scenes of this over-exaggerated movie. Because after 15 mins of the unappealing intense look(more like stalkish) exchange between broody Grey and weak willed Anastasia who surprisingly had “yes” as an answer to every request that came her way, Hubby and I dozed off, with our barely touched Malteasers, empty turkey bowls and warm lemonades around us.

We actually started watching the movie at 9.30 pm and before we could say "Sai Buhari", it was 6:00am in the morning. Initially we thought maybe time had passed by and we were just tired so we decided to try it the following day, hoping to continue from where we stopped. As soon as we picked up again from where Anastasia barfed around Grey at a party, we barely went past another 10 minutes before we returned to our laptops, browsing lazily. (You'd wonder why we didn't just switch off the TV and simply admit the movie was a cuckoodle, especially to women)

It’s been over a month and some days and we still cannot bring ourselves to complete the movie.

Apart from the fact that Christian Grey is unappealingly short, he also has serious mummy issues that remained unresolved after many years, hence the need to take out his frustrations on women. With such unresolved issues from the past, no Nigerian woman would have touched him even with all that money. 

And you definitely dare not beat any Nigerian woman during sex if you don’t want to lose a testicle, especially the right one. Anastasia as a heroine was so weak that I am still appalled women didn't revolt after watching just some few scenes. Her weakness was practically appalling and she lacked any personality that would have made her attractive to any complete man without any hidden issues of his own, like Christian Grey. Only a weak man with issues would find a weak willed woman attractive.(guessed that was why E.L James lumped Grey & Anastasia up, two weak souls)

Strength is a major sexual factor in Nigeria. It is what Nigerian men sell to their intending prey and what they want from a sexual partner as well and possibly the mother of their kids.

Strength & Confidence is key in Africa. That is why Black American romantic movies show men like Idris Elba, Denzel Washington, Morris Chestnut, Taye Diggs ripping with muscles while showing their strengths at home whether as a rich character or a poor one. Their strengths get to sell, always.

Hubby and I thus agreed that 50 Shades of Grey was definitely not for the African market. They should have simply left it in the North & South American continent where anything sells.

Approximately a month and some few days after we got the movie, even though we never made it past 15mins during each watch, we deleted it, right after watching the scene where Anastasia actually signed a written agreement to be a leash and flogged dog for Christian Grey.(Someone's daughter o)

Not sure what E.L James was thinking but that movie was an insult to women and represented everything we had fought against for centuries. It mocks all articles and talk shows on abuse of any kind to women.

Hian. 

N:B- This is not an objective movie review. This is the blunt mindset of a romantic addict who believed 50 Shades of Grey did not in anyway put women in the flattering light as the movie clearly confirmed the phrase- it's still a man's world after all. 

Long Post Alert - Women & Our Amazing Threshold for Bullshit

I woke up yesterday morning for the first time in a very long while with absolutely nothing to do and no idea what task to engage in. For someone who practically works Mondays to Sundays, it felt somewhat nourishing to be able to laze in bed (Currently on leave and just discovered how much I enjoy sleeping and doing nothing). I mean, I am always busy doing one official thing or the other on normal days and being on leave simply means not going to work yet I am usually still engaged in several official tasks but yesterday happened to be the only day I had rebelliously refused to turn on my laptop and just decided to laze and snore my way around our bed. (Hubby mentioned he had never seen anyone so susceptible to so much sleep and if he had known I loved sleeping this much, he would have kept his ring).

Hian! Me that I can sleep for Africa and other neighboring continents at no cost. Just give me a soft pillow, the cooling unit on 16 degrees with a Binatone fan and the sound of a moving train will hold nothing to my snores!

To while away the time before I thought of what to have for breakfast, I decided to go through the BBM Channel update on my Blackberry Passport (Green Eyed Jealousy has never paid anyone!) and what immediately caught my attention was the growing trend of baby mamas which is fast becoming a borrowed western fad. The BBM Channel had an update urging us to open a particular link to view the 15 celebrities with Baby Mamas and their cute babies. And because I had suddenly developed a deep interest in aprokoism, I clicked and was taken to the world of celebrities with cute babies and baby mamas. And what ran through them all were the beautiful baby mamas who actually posed for the camera smiling gleefully with their cute babies. And something also ran through most of them, out of the 15 celebrities with baby mamas, over 5 of them were very clear about having no intention of marrying their respective baby mamas.

Choi, I miss my grandmother and was even tempted to report them to my mum and aunties. They would have done justice to the insults and as one of my friend’s mum would say, “won ready but won redi” (ask your Yoruba friends about this one). The idea of now having a child outside the institution of marriage is fast becoming an accepted fad in Africa even though it mocks the very existence of our religious beliefs. I honestly don’t even know who I am to be more pissed off with. Whether it’s the little boys sacred of commitment but wanting to be able to fuck womanize freely  (because this idea of deliberately getting a woman pregnant without the hope of getting married to her just surfaced and was not this rampant years ago) who do this and brag about it, thereby objectifying their women into baby making factories and being very cool about it or the ladies who agree and go into this kind of arrangement with high gullibility & happily sharing pictures of their kids especially if fathered by a celebrity and not worried but limiting their future choices as the average man from a well-balanced home still have deep reservations about marrying an “after one”.

As a woman, I have tried to get into the heads of these women to know what the problem could possibly be because I have seen the pictures of these baby mamas and as a woman, I have to say that they are very beautiful. I believe this is an imported trend and I stand to be corrected, that is if we are to follow the likes of Amber Rose & Ciara who have made the whole baby mama business look so Chanel cool. And in our usual “follow the western band wagon” fashion, have decided to emulate them. Or could it be that our Nigerian ladies have this all-time low esteem that has made them feel that they can’t get someone to marry them? (Even Beyonce & Kerry sef got married before having a baby. That alone is something)

Because frankly speaking, I am a bit lost on the excitement of baby-mamas because according to how I was raised, having a child by a man who has chosen not to marry me or consider me marriageable before and throughout the 9 months of the pregnancy stage is not something to be happy or proud of. Gone are those days when women hide their pregnancy if they dared to get pregnant before the wedding.

Maybe I am old school sha o. Or maybe I was simply raised to understand that the institution of marriage comes before babies if we are to follow the biblical and Quranic history. Except all the baby mamas are atheists and the biblical rules do not apply to them!

What is even more worrisome is the ricochet effect this would have on these kids because most often than not, most of these men never get married to their baby mamas. Ever! I mean, as a mother, I know I will not only be furious but maybe even organize a kind of serious beating if my daughter comes home to tell me she is pregnant but she and the father do not intend to get married but have this beautiful child together.

For me and the way I was raised and the level of confidence and self-esteem I have gained over the years, I will consider it the highest form of insult for a man to consider me good enough for a romp in the hay and father some seeds for him but not good enough to marry and even coming publicly to say that he has no intention of marrying me. And because of the age of most of these baby mamas, it is highly impossible that they have ruled out marriage. So why agree to have unprotected sex with a man that has no plans of putting a ring on it anytime soon? 

And you discover that men who rant about not ready to get married but already have baby mamas fall under the age of 18 and 33, still mentally childish to understand that there is usually a woman out there that will rid them of that nonsense thought and capture their heart. And by the time they now decide to get married, they choose a fresh blood and not any of the baby mamas that have been so gullible to believe the rhymes they dished out before getting between their legs without protection.

Now understand that a baby mama differs from a single mother. A single mother may be a divorcee, a widow or just a woman (not a girl) who was supposed to be married to a man and have probably done an introduction or even engagement but something happened that may have hurt them both and they are no longer in good terms and are no longer really on talking terms to even think about getting married. In the early 90’s- early 2000, many successful but older ladies sought out men to give them children as they no longer wanted to get married due to their age and usually these women are always above 30 years up till age 40.

A baby mama on the other hand most often than not is already slightly aware about her status from the onset and that this would most likely be what she would be as the man had clearly stated marriage was not in his books anytime in this generation. And right now, many of our rampant baby mamas fall between the ages of 18 and 25.

I am not going to focus too much on the men but the women because I am a woman and this brings me to the second amazing threshold for bullshit I have also recently noticed among ladies. I somewhat addressed this issue on my blog. You can catch up here. This however does not even have to do with domestic violence but how in the apparent face of nonsense a woman still decides to stay in a relationship that is obviously not working all in the name of remaining a Mrs or to be able to have someone to cuddle up to on Val’s day or New Year’s Eve.

My anger stemmed from this story of a woman seeking public opinion as she recently discovered her husband had been sleeping with her two sisters under her roof and though one of the sisters was later chased out of the house as she couldn't control her, the second one was still living with her but ran out of the house after writing a suicide note to her parents that if they refused to come and get her out of her sister’s home, she’d commit suicide. It was this situation that made their parents call the wife of the house and informed her of the situation. Her husband didn't deny the situation as she also confirmed the information the girl shared was true. Her first step was to go and report to her pastor who later begged her to forgive her husband and move on because of the children. (I would “comment” my “reserve” on why women run to their pastors when their men cheat or commit some atrocities for another day because I am almost 99% sure men do not and have never run to their pastors when their women cheat or commit some major atrocities. Most times, men already know what decision to take.)

It was at this point she was requesting for public opinion as she was confused and not ready to break her matrimonial home.

Her sisters were 19 and 15 years old respectively as at the time the sexual activities began. And after reading the article, my blood boiled and I could literally feel my heart rate rise to 200 per minute and I had to ask myself one question, where did we get it all wrong? Has our desperation to stay and remain married affected our sense of reasoning or is it a complex problem? Why has the education we have struggled so hard to get not been able to impact on our ways of thinking? Why has the option of not seeking a psychiatric evaluation for a man who can sleep with your two sisters come up or even the lady seeking personal evaluation for even trying to rationalize the abominable atrocity her spouse had caused to her family? A much saner community that does not ridicule women standing up to spouses with wandering manhood would be asking- what is she still doing in that marriage or better still why not consider a separation pending the time she sought out both her spouse’s issues and her family issues? 

Because in my opinion, it is absolute madness when a man chooses to litter his spouse’s family with his generous manhood and there still lies the woman, seemingly confused about what to do. While I am not trying to encourage divorce, I believe the rate of bulls**t thrown women’s way by their spouses will reduce drastically when certain actions are met with inevitable consequences.

I mean, realistically, how many unfaithful women are still in their marital homes after being caught by their husbands? I am fairly certain the percentage is not up to 20%. And that’s adding women from all around the world as I’m sure in Nigeria, it’s less than 2%. This knowledge that no man would tolerate infidelity has curbed adultery among many married women because the consequences are non-negotiable as the husband including his family will be quick to boot the cheating wife and have her replaced almost immediately.

So if men are not willing to compromise their women’s fidelity, why should a supposedly educated woman come out to ask the public what she should do so her home does not get broken after her hubby slept with her two younger sisters?

While we are fast entering a very dynamic millennial that allows us to express ourselves how best we know even though most are unpleasant and many may regret many years down the line, bringing up babies outside marriage is not what procreation is intended for neither is accepting bulls**t from spouses all in the name of maintaining the Mrs. A man whose wife sleeps with his two younger brothers would not be running to the pastor for advice and as women, your relationship must have a clear goal and threshold of what is acceptable and what’s not. When you have that in place from the get-go, certain limitations would either cease to exist or wouldn't come up at all.

Having a spouse sleeping with his spouse’s relatives and the booming Baby Mama Fad may not be hurting anyone( or so you seem to think now) however for the baby mama, understand that if he is not getting married to you, in a few years from now, he will be ready to settle down and chances abound that he may not be choosing you. It will be a case of “why buy the cow when the milk is already free”?

What is wrong is wrong and no matter how much we try to cover it in whatever shade would never change the fact that it is.

I am aware this post will attract direct mails lashing out and whether I am encouraging divorce and trying to make baby mamas feel bad. (Well, if it would make them pick their self-respect and dignity from the floor and reduce the rate of children looking from outside into the windows of their father’s matrimonial home with his legal wife and children on Festive seasons, so be it)

I will be waiting though. It'd be great to read different opinions on how women justify several bullshits thrown their way.

Why I Should Have Helped Him Pack.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn't a bit excited when Hubby mentioned he’d be travelling out of Lagos for a business trip.

I tried so hard to hide my glee but the last time my eyes shone that bright was when he surprised me with two bowls of Asun from Ojez. He was even forced to ask after he saw the way I turned excitedly “why are you looking so happy? A normal wife will at this time start crying that her husband should not leave her but you, no. I should have listened to my great grandmother and married Ramota. I’m sure she’d be making me pounded yam every morning and waking me up with my oriki”. Hian! I didn't care. At that point, I would have given Ramota to him as a second wife. 

Apart from the fact that I am yet to accept the inevitable fact that I would be the one doing all the cooking in this marriage for the next 78 years, being around my olowo ori drains my energy literally & figuratively. (save your wondering thoughts on whether he could help out once a while. This guy I'm married to ain't boiling or cooking anything harder than water or indomie so long as I bear his name) 

As the first daughter growing up with two younger sisters, I had been privileged to have a mum and elder brother who understood the Yoruba tradition of sending the younger ones so I was majorly spared the horror of cooking all the time so long as my younger siblings were home, as it was with most ladies brought up in their African home.

I'm the one on the far right with the graceful long neck.

I enjoyed cooking a lot no doubt and that must have been the phrase Hubby heard while we dated that made him visit Tiffany to get that 800 carat diamond ring and propose. (Stay there and be beefing o!) In fact, I am now convinced that my culinary skills and genuine pleasure in bringing gastronomical satisfaction to everyone around me made him decide on time that this food maker must not pass his by.

Erm, nope, that's not him but they look alike with muscles sha

Because seriously thinking about it now sef, I remembered him saying he wanted to take his time in getting married as he doesn't want to do it twice and how it was important he was making the right choice and other bla bla bla stories men lie about tell, only for me to make one plantain porridge with orisi risi at home one very cool Saturday that scattered all his earlier stalling tactics and gbam, exactly few weeks later, olori ebi had thrown the surprise proposal. (can I get a whoop whoop from them sisturz!)

Dude didn't know what hit him after eating the asaro elemi meje

Fast forward to almost two years later after exhausting every food idea I've ever known in cooking for Hubby who loves food variety with a passion and I am gradually hating the gas cooker as bad as hating to wash a pot of jollof rice or a burnt pot of amala.

It was this new grown fear of cooking that brought about the huge joy to my face when he made the announcement that he was travelling. I didn't care whether he was leaving in the morning and coming back the next morning. Whatever would prevent me from cooking dinner, having to switch off all the lights in the house every 45 mins, rearrange the room every minute would surely put the joyous Christmasey lights in my eyes.

The only mistake I made when he informed me he was travelling was not assisting him to pack his luggage right there and then. I should have simply stood from the bed when he mentioned loudly to himself at around 11:00pm “Mehn, I have not packed my load for tomorrow o”. And because I had known this guy for almost 5 years and his pattern of thoughts, I knew what was going to follow that question so I promptly shut my eyes and started snoring dramatically. And being the very liberal minded person he was, he didn't bother to disturb my fake sleep.

But apparently, I hadn't learnt my lesson with the Toast Bread & Hot Milo saga. You can catch up here.

The first sign that I had made a mistake was when I saw the light in the room come on at some few minutes before 5:00am the next day with Hubby in his usual self, very apologetic and assuring me the light would go off in some few minutes. By then, all remnants of sleep had cleared from my eyes as goign back to sleep once the light comes on is usually impossible for me. But that was all dearest Hubby needed, an awake company at that time. Because despite my glaring red eyes willfully commanding him to turn out the lights, he innocently made his usual travelling request, “Baby, please what are the things I should pack?’

I contemplated speaking coldly on the unfairness of it all and how he couldn't take it if I dish out same but Hubby is usually at his happiest in the early hours of the morning and no cold or cruel words will stick so I didn't even bother. 

I however tried maintaining a stony silence hoping he’d get his message.(get fire!) I knew I had to intervene though when I saw he had almost finished packing and had forgotten the reason he was travelling in the first place- the documents. And with a vivid image of him missing his flight or not having to travel again which means no duvet to myself, I had to supervise his final stage of packing.

And then when I thought he was done at exactly 5:25am, Hubby took to the stage,deciding it was time to do a solo audition practice for West African Idols.

He started singing! Cheerfully, joyously and in a very loud, ugly, off-key voice. (He would have lost before the male candidate that sang Chris Brown's Don't Wake Me Up during the selection stage.)

The thought of having the duvet to myself kept me in check throughout his Tarzan-happy moments. 

But suffice to say that after being married to someone for such a long time, you get used to everything that represents them, their annoyance, their nuisance value, their frustrations, their stressful but happy moments. Because the minute Hubby stepped out of the house and I closed the door, everywhere became empty, lonely and boring. And suffice to say I missed the loud, cheerful off-key singing immediately I turned the lock.

At the end of it all, that’s what marriage is all about and it’s those moments that puts sanity back into the tough and trying times that come with being married, as they would surely come. The memories we build with our spouses are the ones that bind us together in the long run and it's from these memories we tap into when our better halves get on our nerves and reminds us about those times when it was so good and make us determined to fight and regain those great moments.

The earlier the good memories are being built however, the higher the chances of being able to manage and survive the marriage storms.

Have you started building those good memories with your spouse? Because as for me, I am about to build another frustrating yet good memory as Hubby just got back this afternoon and he has already called to ask, “what am I having for lunch and dinner?” 

But really, do I have to be the one to cook for the rest of our lives together, like seriously?