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Saturday, 27 May 2017


“I just starred on, as she kissed the groom. The whole church applauded and I did too, albeit unconsciously. As the newly wedded walked down the aisle together, I hoped desperately, that somehow, by some stroke of luck or as a sign that we were indeed meant for each other, that she would look in my direction. That she would look into my eyes and see through it, read the very thoughts running wild in my mind. She never did. My heart sank further, this wasn't a dream, it was happening. I snapped to reality, looked around the now almost deserted church and reluctantly, got up from the pew…”
This was a friend's story. Though mine has never been this bad, but still, I know how he must have felt. I doubt there is anyone who has not, at one point in his/her life, loved someone who hasn't had the same feelings for him/her. Life has never been simple though and loving wrong is just one of those complicated things we get to experience.
The weird part of the whole thing is, we all have that one person who loves us just as much as we desire to be loved (no, not talking of your parents), but whom we don't equally love. It is like a karma of some sort, because you find yourself in the same predicament as those you tend to reject. While you're busy chasing others and caring for those who would probably will never go the distance for you but constantly give you false hope, they are others who genuinely care for you. People who care as much as you do for those who don't. Unfortunately, you'd always find out that you don't care for them as much as they do, just the same way those you care about, feel about you. But here is an advice, "Let go and move on"! It’s a 90% dead end. Even if the eventually do, that ego creeps in. That shame of having to chew their words and so most of them rather keep things as they are.
The issue isn't limited to ‘crushes’ alone. These days, the number of people who are in 'relationships' (emphasis on the quotes) is just alarming. What you currently have is too one-sided to be considered a relationship. He's constantly cheating, she's constantly making excuses for not answering your calls and not returning same...too busy and all of that, like it requires so much effort to dial a number. These set are worse off than the first. They are more like tools, because they somehow misunderstand being used, for being in love. Domestic violence is on the rise and this is not a surprise. Why won’t it, when a girl who is battered regularly, still claims to be in love? It is not love sister, you are obsessed! You're in a prison not a relationship. ''He apologised after he did it.'' Didn't he apologise the last time before this one? And the time before that? He'll apologise till he delivers the fatal blow.
He/she will constantly try to make you feel like you've made the right choice to stick around. Buying gifts, taking you out, writing love notes on social media and making you 'feel' special but trust me, they won't blink if they have another opportunity to hurt you. Only few actually change. Be dispassionate, when making decisions. If they love you enough, they should be willing to let go of some habits (same applies to you).
Love should not feel like an obligation. It should not feel like a task or state government job. It should come from within, it should be passionate. They are those who constantly put themselves in situations where the get easily exploited. People who often beg for ‘Love’. If he/she doesn’t like you, then don’t force it on them. You’ll only leave yourself open to deceit. Don’t beg for attention, if he/she loves you, you’ll will be showered with enough attention.
Love is a verb, not a noun. It should be displayed majorly through actions and not words. Whoever cares for you, will show it and whoever does not, won’t.

END PART OF THE ARTICLE.....Most of us get lost in d process of loving the wrong person. We get bruised again and again till our hearts, if could be seen by the naked eyes would look like a battered, worn out shoe. You see a young girl in her early twenties, outrightly dying because of several heartbreaks. They need who doesn't even want them and don't want who needs them. Hold on a minute, forget who is loving you and who you love but isn't loving you. The first healing step is: LOVING YOURSELF. Love yourself so much that you don't give a hoot if the whole world turns their back on you. Don't go catching a grenade for someone who won't kill a mosquito hovering over your head. Self-love/self-crush goes a long way in your healing process.
BE PATIENT lady and gentleman, be patient. Good things come to those who wait. Jumping head over heels on everyone that says hi or winks at you, will land you into so many heartbreaks than you could ever imagine. Don't be quick to give out your heart just because someone acts nice at first meeting. Darling! People change when they meet new persons. Some people are just naturally 'nice' and you shouldn’t mistake it for love. Be slow to interpret people's actions because a boy or girl calls you 4 times a day doesn't mean they need u as a spouse or companion. They just might have someone else. Don't go being a lady or gentleman in distress and then a victim of circumstances.
Have I told u to pray? Well, that's the master key to finding your Mr and miss right. Do you know God is interested in your emotions? And how u feel? He won't want you to go about being hurt cos u deserve better than that. Tell him what u need and who u need and watch him do his work. That person you are killing yourself over might just be that person you are best without.

BUT!!!!  Yes, there is a big ‘BUT’. First things first in life, there are stages u must attain before getting to other stages. You can't be a teen and let someone cajole you with love and relationship and others. You can't let someone cajole and sweet talk u with pizza and shawarma. Your life goals are worth 100 times that distraction. Stay focused, stay positive, keep loving yourself and keep working to be a better version of yourself. Believe me, light will fall in pleasant places and the right pegs will fit into the right holes all by themselves. It's a matter of time and discipline. THE RIGHT PERSON WILL COME AND HE/SHE WILL LOVE YOU JUST RIGHT.

Wednesday, 17 May 2017


The secretary comes out from the corridor and tells me, “The MD is ready to see you. Please come”
Within seconds we’re standing by the door with a bold tag: Managing Director. The secretary knocks and opens. She ushers me in, closes the door and vanishes.  I am in the big office now. I see the MD seated on his executive chair, busy with his computer. He makes a gesture for me to take a seat, still not looking up. Two other company staff are also in his office, seated on the sofa. Everybody is waiting for Oga to break the silence. Oga clears his throat and looks up. He isn’t looking very happy.

MD: Mr. Ayekponor Mbamba…we’re about to have a very long talk. But before that, let me educate you on some vitals. This company, as you know, is a multinational establishment that has been in existence long before you started your nursery education. We have core values that have kept us this far, one of which is staff integrity. We are very particular about the kind of people we hire. I’ve gone through your CV; it’s well written and satisfactory for a CV. But we go further than mere CV. They’re some areas which we’re interested in which the CV cannot elaborate. I had set up a committee to look into your Facebook affairs and see what they can find out about you. I personally was part of that committee. That’s where we have a lot to talk from. Let me start by asking: why do you choose Nickz Mb as your username?

I forgive him for murdering my name. I had suspected this Facebook thing would happen sooner or later. I know it’s part of the modern methods employers use now. I take a deep breath and exhale slowly.

Me: First of all Sir, I commend your company for its high standards towards employee integrity. It’s uncommon. Secondly, I thank you for giving me the opportunity to respond to your findings one on one. I appreciate. Nickz Mb is my username because it’s shorter and more convenient for friends to find me. It eases the spelling errors in my name while friends search for me to add. Also, several people outside Facebook know me as Nickz. Nevertheless, people who search for me with my formal name will still find me because I set my account that way. So, I choose Nickz Mb to ease connect and communication.

MD adjusts his reading glasses and asks the next question. I barely can tell if he’s satisfied with my response or not. That puts me a little on edge.

MD: What does Facebook mean to you?

Me: I see Facebook as an interesting and interactive social platform, a community of its own with so much variety; an avenue for entertainment and information.

MD: I have gone through most of your posts here. It’s majorly humour. Why would I not rate you as an unserious person?

This is the part that I have to brace myself for. I knew it would come. You can do this, I tell myself

Me: Sir, I’m afraid to say, but I don’t see humour and unseriousness being synonymous. Anyone who rates me unserious from Facebook would be incorrect. If anyone thinks so, I would quickly point him to look at my consistency, my originality, the content diversity and the progressively expanding audience. It would only mean that I show seriousness in being unserious, which means I am a serious and creative individual.
My posts reflect more than humour. I look into the society, education experience, relationships, and try to draw something from them which people can cheerfully relate to and feel excited about. Besides, some of my posts are moralistic write-ups, encouraging good morals. Also, the quality of posts I drop helps me draw audience to our blog, which is a serious business Sir.

The MD looks at me keenly, puts on his glasses and slowly leans back on his chair. He motions to one of the senior staff to take over. One of the staff on the sofa begins.

Staff 1: I am Oyedele Bolaji. I head Personnel Department. Just like the MD told you, this company is particular about staff integrity and performance capacity. Let me ask you this: do you think you create a positive impact on people reading your posts?

Me: Yes, I do Sir. My posts are mainly directed to the young people who form majority of friends on my list. Many times, I receive private and public commendations for my posts. It makes me happy to know I can reach out to people and make them laugh or have something to say, in spite the present challenges these young people are experiencing, especially the graduates. I try as much as possible to screen out every form of abusiveness, ethnic intolerance, violence promotion and any other form of offensive contents.

Staff 1: Have you benefited from Facebook in any way?

Me: In more ways than I can tell Sir. Firstly, it has improved my writing and communication skills and my self confidence. Also, I’ve been able to build friendship with some relevant people that I wouldn’t have the privilege to walk into their offices or meet in their high places. I’ve made good friends—young and elderly—who have supported me in many ways. Also, like I said, Facebook brings audience to our blog, so those are the benefits.

Staff 1 takes down some notes and then nods at the other staff seated beside him to take over. The MD is busy with his computer, looking as nonchalant as a gambler. Staff 2 takes over.

Staff 2: Young man, I’ve heard what you’ve said but I will ask you two important questions: you studied mechanical engineering but all your posts have nothing to do with engineering. How does that reflect that you are passionate about engineering?

Me: I see Facebook as a platform that brings people of diverse professions together to socialize and promote their involvements. I don’t see Facebook as a professional platform so I create contents that cut across professions, touching people individually, not professionally. I am devoted to engineering and I belong to other platforms where we share professional knowledge.

Staff 2: If you were employed here, how do you think your Facebook experience would add to the progress of this company?

Me: When I am employed here (yes, when), I’ll channel my commitment to the goals and values of this establishment. If I could invest such work into social media profile and gain relative significance, how much more a place that the passion of my profession looks up to? I am a good team player and with the excellent minds here, we can achieve higher excellence.

The MD looks up from his screen and takes over.

MD: Alright gentlemen, that will be all the questions. Thank you for your time, Mr. Mbambam. Please wait outside briefly. We’ll call you when we’re ready.

Dear Reader,
The above session of interaction is purely a work of fiction and has no reference to any person or place in existence. However, if you were the MD and called me inside again, what would you say as your final decision?

 By the way, add me up on Facebook. The name remains Nickz Mb

Monday, 15 May 2017

SEDUCED III (18+) --by Nickz


The first time he had seen her half naked, his brain had froze. This time, he felt a little light-headed like a teenager’s first experience with alcohol. In an effort to distract himself, his eyes were transfixed on the wall behind Harmony. He tried hard to count the number of lines on his brother’s striped shirt from a picture of him and Harmony hanging on the wall. It didn’t work. He tried hard to say something; to tell her how wrong it was. He would have done just that but how could he when there was a huge invisible toad stuck in his wind pipe? How would he stop this desperate woman from ruining her matrimony? How could he be an accomplice to his beloved brother’s betrayal? He had fought hard to conquer an occurrence like this but here he was, falling into a well-crafted net.

He had avoided having a direct look into her eyes. His eyes darted about, trying to find something distracting enough to focus on but there was only one masterpiece to look at. He made up his mind to be a man, to look her in the eye and tell her he can’t then storm out. It was easier said. The moment he connected his eyes with hers, he realized it was a wrong move. Harmony’s eyes dripped pure lust and they were all over him. he almost could feel them crawling over his skin. Her dreamy eyes carried the wanting that matched the intensity of an inferno.
Tension was ascending. He could feel his own blood descending faster than gravity into his second brain, depriving his actual grey matter the prerogative of decision making. The small gap that separated them was so charged it could light up a city. His gaze couldn’t settle on her face for too long and when it dropped downward to the endearingly smooth and perfectly curved mounds on her bosom, his own hardness was already throbbing within. Harmony stepped forward and swallowed the small gap between them, pressing her breasts into his chest while circling his neck with her arms, transferring a city-wide voltage into his bloodstream. If a doctor was foolish enough to place the cold surface of a stethoscope over his chest to check his pulse at that moment, he would have gained instant deafness. His heartbeat was slamming loud against his ribcage.

“This…this is…this is not right…please sister Harmony we can’t…we shouldn’t…” he wasn’t the one that spoke. He had no idea who spoke. That shaky and coarse semi-whispering voice wasn’t his, though it surprisingly came from his mouth. “Shhhh…don’t talk. Just feel.” Her voice was like evening breeze, everything about it so mild and calming. “And, I’m not your sister…” still using the same softness, she added. She brought her lips to his right ear and gently bit his earlobe. Until now, Vince had always believed the ears’ functions were limited to reception of sound waves and maintenance of balance. It was also an erogenous zone. Now, he found himself almost paralyzed, goose bumps metastasizing from the back of his neck. He wanted to respond, to wrap his arms around her succulent frame and squeeze her into his hardness but he fought the desire. His arms were still by his sides like a shy college girl’s. But he wasn’t new to romance. He had been with ladies a couple of times but it was very difficult when it was someone in the position of Harmony.

Her lips moved from his ear, gently tracing a path down to his lips, encircling him in a burning kiss. Again, he wanted to respond. He also wanted to break away. He still didn’t understand why he didn’t go with the later, long before it got to this stage. Maybe he was sedated. But that wasn’t true. He could feel every microscopic sensation of nerve stimulation. This was wrong, his mind pricked.
Somehow, Vince found some leftover willpower and raised his arms to stop her, to push her away but before he made progress, Harmony intercepted. She took her arms from his neck and gently grabbed his arms, still holding him in a kiss. When she released his arms, they fell limply back to his sides. He lost again.

Harmony was gaining control. She slid her arm beneath the singlet that covered his torso and very gently, she worked her way over the contours of his firm abs, savoring every bit of the feel. She could feel his stomach muscles tighten when she progressed higher to the solid wall of his chest. Her fingers ran hungrily all over, exploring like a treasure seeker. When she brushed the edge of her fingernails over his nipple, she could hear him release a soft moan. She could feel her own pleasure rising. His rocky body was driving her crazy.

Like a tiger maims its prey, she was almost certain Vince’s defense was incapacitated. With a push, she landed him back-first on her matrimonial bed. He was beginning to respond, she could tell. He had fought like a man, she acknowledged but victory will be hers. Harmony brought herself down over him, engaging him in a fiery kiss. Her fingers were working their way down his abdomen to his belt. She was burning to fill the desire in her. She had endured it when the hardness was pressed against her belly. Now was the time to dive. She could feel his rocky member against his jeans trousers. She worked his belt free and was engaging the button of his jeans when she sensed something in the air. It was choking. Vince perceived it too and his alertness was piqued because he realized what was happening. The choking smoke was coming from the kitchen and he was responsible for what was happening. He jumped out of bed and dashed out, holding his trouser from falling off. “Vince! Did you put something on fire? Oh my God!” She scurried into the bathroom to fetch a towel and wrap herself but Vince was already out. When she reached the kitchen, Vince was battling fire with the foamy chemical from a fire extinguisher. If they had stayed a little longer, the fire could have caught the gas supply hose and the story would have been very different. By the time the fire was put out, a certain extent of damage had been done to the cooker and the pot. It would  have been impossible to recognize that the content was rice as it was all char now. They were lucky that a greater harm had been saved.

...to be continued.

Friday, 12 May 2017

SEDUCED II (18+) --by Nickz


Vince was trying his best to keep his path parallel to that of Harmony whenever they were left in the solitary of the cozy abode. Several times, he had left to campus three or four hours before his first lecture. He found it preferable to hang around campus than to avail himself to the honey-dripping enticements of a lascivious sister-in-law. Keeping Richie out of the situation remained paramount to him as he was determined to handle matters carefully. It was too delicate to compound. If Richie got to know, Vince could never tell which side of the coin would face up to determine his fate.

So far, he was fighting a good fight. He never failed to lock his bedroom and bathroom  doors when he was unclad or vulnerable. He was really careful and it was working fairly well until yesterday in the kitchen. He was mixing milk and cereal for a light breakfast over the kitchen countertop. Harmony had strolled into the kitchen too. She suddenly wanted to retrieve a beverage tin from the overhead cupboard which was right above Vince. In the process, she had to position herself behind Vince, pressing herself into his back. Vince could feel the soft and teasing pressure of her breasts on his back, the flimsy pajamas she wore was barely a barrier. His heart had started to pound against his ribcage. If he stepped out, she might lose balance and possibly get injured as her weight was now on him. Even when she had reached the tin, she lingered some more. He endured awkwardly, looking for the right words to say and extricate himself. Finally, she got the tin and moved from him. “Vince baby, don’t tell me you’re leaving for lectures this early. It’s just 7”. Vince cleared his throat to untangle the mucus that stuck in the way. His heart had returned to pace and he finally had found his voice. “Arh, yeah. We have 8am lectures most days.” He had lied. She was not an easy fly to shake off. She dropped the tin of beverage she had picked—which she obviously had no need of—and walked to him, pretended to become interested in his meal. “Hmmm. Golden Morn, how do you mix it to look so mouth-watery?” she had gotten the spoon from him and tasted the cereal. “Wow, this is…yummie… You have to tell me how you do this…I like it.” He knew her game. He had known it wasn’t about learning anything but for decency sake, he had to cooperate on the tutorial. He had managed a shy smile and proceeded to tell her the steps. “Well, it’s quite simple. I usually use lukewarm water to prepare it…I first pour in...” Harmony had walked closer so that she leaned on him and rested her head on his arm under the guise of paying close attention. His heart had started to race again, the words barely coming out audibly. Her hair had a mild fragrance similar to that of a fruit he couldn’t recall the name. It was hard to recall anything. It was even harder to think of a way out. Maybe the gods of chance were in his favour that morning. He had never been so grateful to hear his ringtone at that moment. His phone was ringing in his room and he had to rush out of her snare to get it. Resisting Harmony was harder than his four-credit unit 100L Mathematics but he was optimistic to overcome. He believed she would give up one day.

Today was Thursday. Vince’s first lecture was by 12pm but he would be crazy to stay at home that long. Washing his brother’s car had made him wake up early. It was just 7:30am and he didn’t feel like going to school so early and roam idly as he barely had friends to while off time with in the new environment. He could occupy himself by cooking rice. There was stew in the freezer. He wished to God that Queen Temptation would stay glued to her ZeeWorld or whatever she was watching in her bedroom.

The gas cooker came to life with blue flames and he disposed the used matchstick and placed the pot of rice. Watching the blue and smoke-free flames reminded him of his rickety kerosene stove in his one-bedroom house back in Ikot Ekpene which produced the exact opposite. He chuckled when he remembered how he usually suffered with the burner and the wick adjuster; turning and adjusting several times until it managed to burn. Sometimes, he would run out of kerosene before the end of the meal. He usually had no option than to burn out the wicks. Life here was better, he thought. He was willing to maintain a good relationship with Richie and continue to enjoy the benefits of comfort. Vince headed for the freezer to extract the stew. It had to be taken out and placed in water to defrost. He would dish and warm enough for himself and Harmony. He was on his way to the big Nexus chest freezer down the open passage when he heard the sound of shattering glass. He was sure it was from the house. It was coming from the direction of Harmony’s room. 

He dashed down the corridor towards her room which was closed. He was afraid something was wrong. When he opened the door, he knew something was definitely not right. Harmony was sitting at the foot of her giant matrimonial bed, sobbing into her palms. There were pieces of what used to be the bottle of Veleta wine on the floor just across where she sat. Vince examined the damage. It appeared someone dashed the brittle vessel against the wall and it shattered and littered the floor. He could see the mark of collision on the wall opposite Harmony. What could have prompted such spontaneous outrage? Vince stepped into the room, cautious of the glass fragments on the tiled floor. Did she receive any bad news from her family? Was that enough to make her haul a bottle against the wall? Was it the miscarriage? It must be the miscarriage. She was in grief for her lost child. Vince remembered when he lost his beloved mother at the unfulfilled age of 53, four years ago. She was a good woman; the kind of woman that helped people even when she barely had enough. Richie had spent a lot of money on her illness, hoping she’d be alright but she still passed on. People had come to the house wailing and sympathizing. He had not felt that urge to shed tears then. It was when he was alone in his room that night that reality him hard. After that night, he had usually pretended to get over it until one noon, several months later, when a particular memory of his mother hit him. He found himself shedding tears and wiping them with his shirt. Maybe that was what was happening to Harmony at the moment; the memory of the lost child after several months into pregnancy, the shattered expectations—it was enough to drive someone into a crazy mood. This was why his brother wanted him around. To be there to keep her good company and help her think less of the past. Vince sat on the bed beside with his sister-in-law and patted her shoulder comfortingly. 

“It’s okay sister Harmony. It’s okay…” He thought of how best to go about the whole comforting thing. He barely knew the right words to say. “You will have another baby, maybe twins. Don’t hurt yourself with the past. You will have another baby. Please stop crying.” She was quiet but still had her face covered. Slowly, she removed her hands from her face, clamped them beneath her chin and stared blankly at the wall opposite her. Even with traces of tears in her eyes, in spite her early morning face, Harmony was still a beauty queen. She still didn’t say anything but seemed to appreciate his presence non-verbally. Vince stood up and fetched a broom and waste packer. Carefully, he gathered the pieces on the floor and disposed them. She was still sitting and staring blankly. Vince went back and sat beside her. “Do you need anything? I can get you water to drink if…” Vince asked but she shook her head in negation, cutting him off. After a short while, she heaved and spoke; her voice a little above a murmur. “It’s not the baby.” Vince wasn’t sure he got her clearly. He cocked his head in a way that sent the message. “This is not about the miscarriage,” she spoke again. He was taken by surprise. His curiousity pitched higher. He waited anxiously for her to speak. What else could it have been?
“Your brother and I,” she started to speak, still staring blankly at the wall. “…we were so crazy about each other after the marriage. Our honeymoon was paradise. We made love like horses on this bed. He treated me like a queen, always never wanting me to leave his sight.” She cleared her throat and swallowed. “I got used to that feeling of being wanted. All my life, I’ve always been wanted…wanted by men…men willing to pay anything. Sometimes, I made them work for it.  Men were men, willing to pay dearly. But that was before Richie. Richie made me feel like there was no need to play around anymore. I thought I found all the men in one man. We decided to start something…” She adjusted her posture and sat upright, the tears were no more and her composure had a touch of cheerfulness. “The whole point is; Richie has changed. Maybe he’s too blind to see. He’s married to his work and career. We used to have the weekends to ourselves but all that’s gone. It’s work, work, work. I no longer feel that sense of being desired that made me start this journey.” The picture was becoming clearer to Vince. A lonely woman she was.  “I have needs… I have urges…” she rose up and paced, looking in charge again, her glory returning, her beauty radiating. She paced on, her thin fabric as transparent as ever. “Vince, come here…” she stretched her arm and gently pulled Vince from his sitting position. Vince was in a state of bewilderment; trying to comprehend how she switched from victim to her usual queenly demeanor. They were both standing, facing each other. She released her hand from Vince’s. Slowly, with little effort like a trained stripper, she slipped off the sleeves of her nightie and it slipped down her gorgeous frame down to her toes. She was standing before him, nude as a new born. “Vincent, I am a woman in need. You have all I need. Make love to me.” 

...to be continued

Thursday, 11 May 2017

SEDUCED I (18+) --by Nickz


Vince dipped the rag into the half-filled bucket of soapy water, gave the rag a little squeeze before wiping the roof of the Toyota Avalon; his arm moving mechanically like a windshield wiper. If he knew nothing else, it was etched into his cerebrum that his elder brother could not be late to work. His car had to be clean and ready on time. That was the thing with bank jobs. It was like sex with a nympho: no matter how early you started, how good you were or how hard you worked your ass, it never got enough until you were worn out and it called right back the next day. It was Vince’s fourth week in Anambra state. He would have still been managing a provision shop for Mama Sabi back home in Ikot Ekpene if not for his recent admission into Oko Polytechnic in Anambra state. His elder brother Richard was a banker in Access Bank, Ekwulobia, one of the busy towns in Anambra state and had helped him secure the admission through a friend who knew a friend who knew another friend. Richie—as popularly called—was the closest family to Vince and Vince held his elder brother the way Catholics revere their bishops.

At 22, Vince still possessed that charming looks and innocence of a teenager. He held a slight resemblance to Nick Cannon in Love Don’t Cost A Thing. The striking difference was in his height which was a couple cm higher and the fact that he had abs that could earn him a lightweight championship belt. Plus, he didn't keep braids but carried a neat undercut hairstyle. He would ever remain indebted to his elder brother who had to bite nails to secure him a long awaited desire. He was glad the admission took him out of his hometown, a place which often reminded him of the sufferings and hustling he had to endure in the school called life. He would gladly call that the past. Richie on his end was also glad his younger brother was right with him. One stone would kill two birds as Vince was going to be of help to him at home while pursuing his academics, especially considering the fact that Harmony, his wife had recently suffered a miscarriage. Richie would appreciate someone to help her around since his work was highly demanding.

Richie’s wedding to Harmony a year ago was the talk of town in Ikot Ekpene. He had met her in a unisex salon. Gears were shifted and barely seven months after, they had tied the knot. She was everything he dreamt of in a woman. Harmony was one of those ladies that made men stare at the cover page of a magazine with fantasies in their head if her picture was on it. Her caramel skin, her audacious height, her voluptuous curves all emphasized triumph over beauty. Richie was proud of her and treated her like a fragile poultry product, thought she barely had anything to touch with her manicured fingers in the cozy four bedroom apartment.
Vince was at the finishing stage of dry-wiping the Avalon when his brother stepped out of the house, ready to leave to work. Harmony floated after him, still dressed in her nightie; an overwhelmingly flimsy silk. Vince couldn’t help but smile approvingly at his big brother. He always dressed like one of those men on TV during corporate commercials; crisp and on point. Today, he wore a white shirt with a blue tie.  At thirty, Richie had worked his way up to the manager of Customer Care department. Vince admired his brother. People often said they both shared a striking resemblance but Vince never noticed, maybe due to the fact that Richie’s size amassed a chunkier deal of flesh than his.

Harmony helped Richie slip into his black suit before depositing a kiss on his lips. She arranged his collar then wished him a good day at work. After some complimentary remarks, Vince handed Richie his car keys. He was lucky to finish washing on time. It was 6:45am when the shiny saloon car glided out of the gate. On a good day, it would glide back in around 7:00pm.
It was Vince’s fourth week of stay in Richie’s house. By now, he could swear the suspicion he had perceived on the second week was not a false smoke. Who knew if it started right from the first week but he hadn’t paid adequate attention? His big brother didn’t have the faintest knowledge of this as it usually occurred in his absence and Vince was willing to contain it and tread cautiously over the situation for the sake of peace. Harmony was still at the doorway, leaning on the post like a predator awaiting its prey. When Vince’s eyes met hers, she winked at him and smiled the way Eve had probably smiled when he wanted Adam to taste the fruit in her hand. Slowly, she lifted her silk gown—which was see-through enough to expose everything beneath—revealing a pair of smooth and stunning legs. She winked once more at Vince in a way that said, this could be all yours and then swayed graciously into the house. Vince was transfixed with the empty bucket in hand, barely able to reason. That wasn’t the first time she did that. It wasn’t the second either. She was incessantly seducing him in his brother’s absence.

Back then in his second week, there was a morning Vince was having his shower when the bathroom door suddenly flew open. He was completely nude and wet. Harmony was standing at the entrance, acting like it was an accident, claiming she had wanted to pick the disinfectant and use in her own bathroom. If it was an accident, why did she stare longer? Why hadn’t she knocked?
The second time, Vince was in his room applying deodorants after morning bath. The door creaked open and Harmony had walked in unannounced. She had complained she had difficulties unhooking her brassier. In addition to the bra she had worn that day, the only other fabric she wore was a lacy pair of panties that screamed seduction. With shaky hands, Vince had managed to help her unhook the bra but to her, that wasn’t sufficient. She had peeled the brassier off her shoulders and chest and turned to face Vince, with a mischievous grin on her lips. “Thanks Vince baby. I don’t know what I‘d have done without you.” With that, she had turned back and left the room.

Every time he remembered the bra experience, his spines usually experienced chills that ran lower down. He wasn’t just scared knowing that he had seen Harmony’s semi-nakedness but was also worried she was so beautiful and even more, so alluring. 

to be continued...

Thursday, 27 April 2017

SH*TTER! --by Kreed

Have you heard Remy Ma's 'Shether'? Yea, I know this gist is a bit stale right about now but I couldn't just resist writing about it still. Would've probably done it when the gist was still hot but due to some circumstances beyond my control (procrastination), I couldn't just jump in the mix at that point. Anyway, it is even better I'm doing this now. At least I don't get to compete for attention. *tongues out*
I've never really been a fan of beefs—like quarrel between two people. In fact, I hate being around when shii starts escalating because it's always a matter of time, before dirty secrets start pouring. I hate being involved in one as well, not because I have secrets (no, mine isn't dirty), but because anybody can just cook up anything at that point and you'll be left to repair your image afterwards. However, when beefs are put into a song like Nas' Ether; Eminem's Nail to the Coffin; Nico Gravity's I don Finish (naaaah, I didn't like Nico's diss track) like once that happens, you've got my attention.

Don't get me wrong, I don't fancy animosity between two folks. However, I can't help but admire when someone pours out his or her emotions into their lyrics. That is the art called Music. From start to finish, in my opinion, almost every line was on point. Like it's been a while I've heard so much hate or anger (hate in this case) in a track. Then there was Nicki's response...let's just leave it at that. Her diss song was just that flat in my opinion. More like Drake's initial response to Meek Mill, in the track '----'. Though he salvaged his reputation with '---' (shout out to bitches wifing niggas...not going to forget that line in a hurry), something I really hope Nicki will do.

It is also important to note that this Remy Ma/Minaj feud has some traits of the Nico Gravity/Timaya beef. ‘I don finish Timaya’ was lit and so is 'Shether' Nico's track which got most of us excited but then, when the dust eventually settled, we all realized who the better musician was. Really, asides 'Shether', the only other song I heard Remy Ma, was 'All the Way Up'. I did like her energy in the track but her lyrics? *Thuuuuud*! Glad it was short. What she should focus on is building on this track, not by dwelling on it (like Nico did... ‘I Don finish Timaya’ suddenly caught the Nollywood flu...part 1 - Part 2billion), she should focus on making another great song that will have nothing to do with this beef. If she doesn't, truth is, 5 years from now, only few will even remember this track or that she even exists in the industry. Jay Z got thrashed (pardon my use of the word, it wasn't that bad) by Nas in my opinion (if got a penny for every time I said 'in my opinion'...*sighs*), but his career didn't end there. You know why? Because he is a good musician and he produced more hits thereafter. Losing this battle might have little or no effect on her career because when this is all over, in my opinion (see that, I used it again), you and I know that Nicki will make another Hit. It is almost a constant and we will all forget that this even happened (I won't).

There is a popular African Proverb that goes thus, "If you're good at making diss songs, be great at making ordinary songs". After he finished Timaya, Nico stopped selling and Timaya never looked back. I really hope Remy has some more or other Hits for us. I really hope she'll make hits without using the 'queen's' name (Nicki said it, not me). If not, then she's just #Shitter

*drops mic*....*jumps into the crowd*

Saturday, 15 April 2017

GO FOR IT! --by Kreed

“And this ain't no place for the weary kind
This ain't no place to lose your mind
This ain't no place to fall behind
Pick up your crazy heart and give it one more try”

Earlier this week, I had recalled that sometime in 2009, I had watched the making of the movie 'Crazy at Heart' and I had fallen in love with their soundtrack. But I wasn’t in possession of a ‘good phone’ then, if you know what I mean. So early last month after almost 8 years, I finally downloaded the track. The above lines are the chorus of the track and I must admit, I didn’t expect it to be so lyrically ‘charged up’. The song was on replay for the first 2 weeks after it was downloaded but just like the others, everything often comes to an end. And oh, there is the other group that believe they are not yet ready, that they need to hit the gym for a full year before they can muster a mustard seed size courage to stare the obstacles between them and their goals in the face, procrastinating for a living and not actually living.

Everybody wants to be successful but only few are willing to get up every morning to work towards their dreams. If you ask at random, 100 people you come across what they want in life, majority of them will you ‘They want to be successful’. If you probe them further however, majority actually have no plan on how to get there. Somehow they believe it's spontaneous, not planned. Not a result of consistent actions, just some stroke of luck or something.

 Many people are eager to start up projects but very few have a ‘why’ for starting the project. Most shiver at the thoughts of the challenge, while others give up as a result of some imaginary fear their minds cook up.

Anyway, before I expend all my points in the intro, I'll just list below the few things one must do, if he or she is to get anywhere near his/her dreams. I know you've come across several tips like this but add this to your knowledge box.

It’s definitive not ambiguous. I want a car, is different from I want a G-wagon. The former is some random statement, everybody says that. It could be a Peugeot 504, Volkswagen ‘beetle’ (old model) etc. It could be any car. The later however, is specific. You must not be scared to declare the kind of things you want. EVEN THE BIBLE SPEAKS OF THE POWER OF THE TONGUE. Positive words always attract positive vibes. So don't be scared to say what you really want. Don't look at your present situation. I had not wanted to make this religious in anyway but if I didn't, I would be a big fat wolf. Faith is a key. You must be able to see your tomorrow; you must be able to see beyond your nose (i.e. look past the challenges of today). I always prefer to see my challenges as mere mirage or illusion, just serving to distract me from seeing the real thing. So goals are the most important. It is the first step. You can't set targets if you don't have them. You need to have goals.

Enter Action with Boldness: that's one of the laws in the book '48 Laws of Power'. Truth is, if you're not going to give your all, then don't start it at all. If you have no intent of winning it, then don’t compete at all. Don't be afraid. Some of us are too timid and often end up doing less than we actually desired to. Half-baked effort–in my opinion–is worse than no effort. 'Anything that is worth doing is worth overdoing'. Don't be fearful as to what the future holds. Rather be excited by the prospects of your dreams. Remember, you have to see beyond your nose. See what the world hasn't. Now you know why you need goals. Without it, it is almost impossible to have any form of focus.

Don't be fearful of who you'll offend either. Sometimes what you mistake as compassion or respect, is in reality, fear. Learn to look at the world with dispassionate eyes. DON'T JUDGE WITH YOUR EMOTIONS, people will play you and exploit you. Learn to rule your life with your head and not your heart. Don't accept everything that is given or offered. By that, I mean don't settle for less. Sometimes you have to be bold enough to say NO. This is especially important when negotiating business deals. Nobody is a friend at the table of negotiations, everyone has a vested interest. Don't try to please people at your own detriment. Don't be scared of what people will think of you. Regardless of what you do, people will still have an opinion about you, that's the truth.

Call me a hypocrite for all I care but I'll still say it: If you lack consistency, trust me, you'll only produce sporadic feats. Trust me; you need to be consistent in your pursuit. You need to channel your desires and passion fiercely into the pursuit of your goals. How bad do you want it? How bad do you want to win it? Then this is not the time to rest. Keep pushing till you achieve that goal. There will be time for rest but not just now. As long as you have not reached that goal, don't be contented with the progress, yes be very grateful but don't be contented till you have reached the destination–the goal.

Don't sleep. No, don't wait till tomorrow and hell no, you won't do it later. Do it now, yes, now. Clear off those tasks on your task list and then you can party for the rest of your life (no actually, just that day). Don't save the difficult ones for later, start your day with them. Procrastination is the greatest enemy of consistency. So don't fall a prey to its subtle tricks.
You can have goals, you can be bold but if you're not consistent, it's a damn waste.

There should be a life sentence for those who do this (though I’d be in the prison if there was one). This is likened to what hawks are to chickens: a dreaded nightmare. I will do it tomorro....shhhhh, don't even say that, if it can be done today, then do it today. Tomorrow is pregnant with its activities already.

Don't complain that the day ends too fast, you just don't discipline yourself. God gave us 24hours for a reason. If it was too short He would have increased it. If it was too long, He would have reduced it. So don't complain that you don't have enough time. You need to discipline yourself.

This is the last, not the least but the bitter truth. If you think this journey will be a smooth sail, then you're a joker. It won't be. This will push you to your limits but don't shiver, because when you're against the wall, that's when you're most creative. So, don't pray for a smooth ride because there won't be one. The bible says 'No weapon fashioned against you shall prosper'. It didn't say no weapon will be fashioned against you. It is through this challenges that we become better. Trust me, if there was another way, every one would have met their goals. This trip isn't for everybody, so you can just step aside and be ordinary–stay in your comfort zone. But if you want to be more, then here is the truth many people don't know, "Eventually, the storm always comes to an end. Eventually, the clouds run out of rain". So don't turn away from this challenge. Run towards it! Oh, I almost forgot: when all seems lost, God will always meet you the point of your need.

Personally, I'm yet to achieve most of my goals and I'm probably still unknown so, I may seem not to be the Michael Jordan for the basketball lectures. However, in my defense, I know I will get there. It's just a matter of when. So, why should I wait or procrastinate till then? If I do, maybe Dangote or Elon Musk, will have a similar idea and write a piece as good as this before me. By the way, that's what happens when you wait 'till you're ready'. Someone else does it before you and sometimes even better. It is time to stop wishing. It is time to start acting. So don't wait for your dreams...Go for it!

Friday, 17 March 2017

The Wedding Day --by Nickz

          Desmond had been certain there was nothing like love at first sight but everything changed immediately he walked through those doors. He was sure that was what he felt the very moment he spotted the tall, light skinned beauty leaning on the counter at Crunches eatery. He had walked in for lunch break with James, his right hand man and colleague and froze for a fraction of seconds when his ray of sight beamed at the counter. James had noticed immediately and teased Desmond for refusing to “hang the player’s boots” at the age of 29. If only his friend was aware of the unusual reactions in his body chemistry. Desmond was sure a ribbon was pulled lose in a love chamber somewhere in his chest.

          At the counter, James placed meal orders, enough to refill the energy he expended while attending to many grumpy customers at work. Desmond was beside him but his attention was far from the nicely displayed meals under the glass cover. He was keenly staring in her direction, the way one did while admiring the intricacies of a piece of art in an exhibition. “Pally, what’s your order?” James’ question conjured his soul back into his body, causing a mild startle on his composure. “Jay, this babe has charmed me!” An excited Desmond replied James. “You see that babe, she’s my order,” Desmond added and started moving towards his center of attraction, leaving James behind. James would have sworn someone was controlling his friend with a remote controller.

         Sharon was just picking up her tray of fried rice and chicken from the counter when Desmond made his move. She strode majestically across the hall, reached a table, dropped her meal and took a seat, unaware of the handsome young man trailing her steps. Desmond was not thinking straight. His judgment was clouded and he had no idea what to say or do when he got to the lady. Would she find his approach obtrusive? Maybe he had to think of something smart. Suddenly, he paused himself, made a 180 degrees rotation and walked back to the sales girl at the counter. It would look more reasonable joining her table for lunch with his tray of food. That way, it would look like he was just a fellow customer exercising his free will of choosing any table in the hall. In few minutes, he was heading back towards her table with his lunch in hand. This was going to be exciting.

          James had picked a comfortable position a couple of tables away from that which the lady sat. He had never seen Desmond act like this. He was well built, handsome, earned six figures and didn’t have any difficulty winning a lady’s attention. In fact, it was the reverse that usually bothered Desmond: the ladies always strived to get his attention. He was usually the medal. Now, he was the athlete pursuing the prize. Somehow, he was nervous for Desmond and was ready to jump to his rescue if she was the psychotic and slapping type. But from what he was observing, Desmond was doing fine. They were having a conversation already. He could see the pretty lady looking up from her meal and smiling at him. Now, they were shaking hands. This was going to be the most thrilling lunch break he’d ever had. He took another sip of his Smoove and swallowed down with relief.

          When Desmond arrived at Sharon’s table, there was a ball of nerve in his throat and his heartbeat was far from regular. What if she was expecting a date, her fiancĂ©, or husband? Somehow, he flipped on his confidence switch and took the seat opposite his medal. He wasn’t going to mess this up. Maybe it was his lucky tie, maybe it was just fate; she was still silently focused on her meal. She didn’t protest.
          Step one was successful. Now, he needed to get a nice opener; one that wouldn’t sound desperate or present him like a pervert. This was where most men failed. Ladies despised being bugged. He didn’t want to present himself as a playboy neither. He was Desmond Essien. He was really interested in her. He was not going to fail. Casually, he threw her a smile and a “hi” to acknowledge her presence. She responded with a “hi”, barely looking up from the piece of meat she was cutting. Desmond opened his plate of salad and started eating. It was necessary to mind his business for the first few minutes. That was the desperation eliminator move. He could write a book on How To Approach Women but in spite that, “fieldwork” was still a heart-pounding yoke. Without directly looking, he could see the plastic beads necklace sitting on her neck and the well tailored ash gown she was wearing. It had a neat round edge that curved across her shoulders and the small pieces of fabric attached on both arms, which barely passed for sleeves, exposed her gorgeous arms. There was something about the tone of her skin that made him wonder if she was human or celestial. He was sitting before a stunningly beauty lady.

          “Please pardon my interrupting you but this is important to me. My younger sister—eerr—her birthday is coming up next week and I have been contemplating on a gift to get her. This beaded necklace you’re wearing, I uhm—it looks elegant…got a touch of culture, you know. I think she’d appreciate a gift like that. She’s kinda fashion crazy. You know a place I can pick up something like this?” His expression, his gestures and his tone conveyed the message in a very honest and jovial manner even Margaret Thatcher would have been moved. She had dropped her spoon and paid apt attention to him all the time he was speaking. She had met thousands of men in her life but none had the boldness and openness she just witnessed. She was pleased by his compliment too. He was not like the regular bunch of wanton guys that usually greeted a strange lady with, “Hello beauty.” He looked cultured and responsible. He deserved her attention.  
          “Oh, that wouldn’t be a problem. Beads are beautiful when combined with the right dress. I know a place I can refer you to and your sister would always cherish you for getting her an adorable gift.” She replied with a glint of smile on her painted lips. “You sound so sure.” Desmond couldn’t help adding. “Yeah, because I’m a fashion designer. I run a fashion shop. I made this necklace.” Jackpot! His lucky tie was working again. Sharing mutual interest was a big advantage. He would exploit the common ground till they established a firm connection. They almost forgot they hadn’t introduced themselves properly. “I’m Desmond Essien, Customer Care Unit at GTBank. Nice meeting you Miss…” He stretched out his hand for a handshake, expecting her to fill in her name simultaneously. “I’m Sharon Ejiroh, Marketing staff at DailyWatch Newspaper. Fashion design is my private business. Nice meeting you too.” She took his hand with a real smile.

          James was fascinated. If he had thrown a bet, he’d have lost everything. Desmond was the man. He just earned an extra feather of respect from him. Watching the two of them was like watching two interesting people on a date. The only problem was that he and Desmond had run out of lunch time by ten minutes. As much as he regretted, he dialed Desmond’s number to draw his attention. He could see him pull out his phone from his pocket, only to place the call on “busy”. He decided to text him.
          Desmond saw the text buzz into his phone. He knew it was time to leave with James and he had to wrap it up. It was easier to get her contact now he had promised to get a gift from her shop for her sister. If only Sharon knew he was the only son of his parents. Gladly, she handed him her private business card. He was intrigued. He was mad over her. He would call her tonight. It was not a promise; it was a solemn oath.


          Today made it eight months since the Crunches encounter with Sharon Ejiroh. They were together again but in a different setting, for a different purpose. There was an elderly man standing between them, wearing a white collar and making small sounds as if clearing his throat. A lot of family and friends were seated behind them, ready to witness the beautiful exchange of love vows and solemnization of matrimony. James was standing behind Desmond, occasionally dabbing off imaginary sweat from his forehead. He was gladly playing his best man role and smiling more than necessary. One of the bride’s maids got his attention and he wasn’t going to let that slide. He learnt from Desmond that everything was possible.
          It was time for business. The Reverend Minister with the collar—was an elderly man who looked like he was in his 70s—didn’t look so much excited like the anxious couples, probably due to the fact that he had welded more couples in his lifetime than he would care to number, or just for the purpose of conveying the weight of the journey they were about venturing into. He was about reading the marriage vows for the couples to repeat. Sharon gently took a deep breath to relieve her tension and be ready to take the oath that would permanently change her status.

         The Minister cleared his throat again and adjusted the small booklet in his right hand while raising the mic to his mouth. He looked unusually uneasy and there was perspiration on his wrinkled forehead. Sharon suspected he had reading challenge. But that wouldn’t be true because he usually read the bible with them during marriage guidance classes. He usually looked better than this. For the third time, the Minister cleared his throat. Finally, he started with Sharon, reading out the first line, which demanded the couple to fill in the name and proceed with the vow.
          “I…” He read. “I, Sharon Uzoma Ejiroh,” Sharon filled in. “Do…do so…solemnly swear…” He stammered out the second line and Sharon sensed all was not well. The minister was an energetic and fluent-speaking old man. He never stammered. His face looked distressed like he was out of breath and might need help. The congregation murmured in discomfort as he gave a slight cough and started repeating the vows afresh. While he was at the second line, the unexpected happened: the mic and booklet dropped from his hands and he frantically grabbed his chest, obviously in severe pain. Within seconds, he slumped on the terrazzo floor and the faint murmurs escalated to a chaotic uproar.  

          Some choristers from the choir box rushed down to the fallen man, forming a small cluster around him. The couples, Desmond and Sharon were still standing, completely awestruck by the unceremonious twist. Sharon didn’t cry but she could feel hot beads of tears rolling down her eyes. She was sure her makeup was ruined but it didn’t matter anymore. Why today? Her chief maid held her by the waist and guided her back to her seat. Desmond was too stoned to move. This couldn’t be real. He was hallucinating. It was James’ gentle grip on his arm that brought him back. “Sharon!” He rushed towards his wife-to-be and sat beside her, trying his best to comfort.

          A small crowd of church officers and choristers had circled round the slumped minister and started praying vigorously before a man from the congregation rushed forward and broke through the circle. “Jesus Christ! Stop praying and call an ambulance! This man has a cardiac arrest and needs urgent help.” He penetrated the circle and knelt beside the man on the floor. He checked if he was still breathing but there was no sign of that. He had to perform a CPR. After applying several compression to his chest, there was no sign of resuscitation. In times like that, he wished he had a defibrillator in his car. Now he had to do the mouth to mouth. He almost lost hope after several efforts but miraculously, the old man choked and came back to life. He needed hospital attention.

          It took ten full minutes for one of the junior minister to restore decorum in the church. The elderly minister was on his way to a hospital. He would be fine. The congregation had finally stopped murmuring and pacing about and took their seats. Few members had left already out of panic. “Praise the Lord!” The junior minister said, trying to sound cheerful. The congregation responded faintly, uncertain if God was still in the sanctuary. He apologized for the unexpected interruption and assured that the marriage ordinance will proceed as he would officiate. He called on the couples to step out again for their vows.

          To say Desmond was happy would be an understatement. He was jubilant. Sharon was now his wife. He was kissing her before the altar. The congregation was applauding. The gloomy ambience had been swallowed by joy. It was still a day of celebration. There was dancing and noise of happiness. “I will never lie to you again sweedie. I’ll love you forever.” He whispered into her ears while dancing. Sharon smiled and pressed another hug into his strong frame. Now, they were holding hands and dancing out along the aisle. A love story had just begun.

Tuesday, 31 January 2017


Image source: www.fabglance.com

          For a while now, I’ve been fiddling with the idea of putting this down. I think I’ve finally picked up sufficing motivation to voice out on this subject of perturbation. For readers outside Nigeria, this piece may have a degree of variation from your culture as compared to mine here but not to worry, the underlying significance will be found generally beneficial. I want to talk about the abuse in Female Activism on social media, most especially on Facebook.
          Ideally, I would have opened with the definition of female activism or who a feminist is but my impatience wouldn’t let me. Whether defined here or not, I think the purpose of female activism is to change the archaic way the society views women and the girl child, to enlighten the populace and erode the inferiority label on women, to promote girl child education, to give women a chance to be heard, etc. Unfortunately, many here in Nigeria feel they can take shade under the canopy of this movement and diffuse adulterated and self-inspired perspectives to confuse and possibly misguide the gullible fans and followers on social media. When I say many here in Nigeria, I’m referring to our very young ladies on Facebook who have obtained education and probably, some overdose parental pampering and luxury, or a rough relationship life.

          Firstly, let me clear the air before I proceed. I nurse no grudges against outspoken ladies. I love vocally gifted and well-mannered young ladies. I love to see a lady express her opinion intelligently and impart wisdom to the listeners or readers. Unfortunately, what we see on Facebook frequently is not the real deal. Like we all know, on every social platform, there are people who are looked up to as gods and goddesses. These people pull a mass of followers and transmit a degree of influence on them.  What they say is “the best” and so, the possibility of misguiding followers is high. Their center of focus is usually on role equality among partners, especially in matrimony and relationships. To be sincere, this piece is not out to dissuade any female writer from writing whatever she imagines is  cool on her wall but to enlighten few naive and gullible young fans and steer them from misguide.
It is easy for a young lady reading a post to get emotionally carried by the sweetness of the imagination conveyed, especially when it talks about relationships and how a male should be very caring to the wife; cooking for her, opening car doors, helping in domestic chores and all that. She immediately reacts to it by loving the post and commending the writer for speaking “the truth”.
          Dear readers of such posts, I implore you to wash your faces and open your eyes to reality. Most of these female writers usually write based on the nature of their upbringing and environment. Some of them grew into well-to-do families, obtained sound education and in the process became outspoken, acquainted to a life of comfort and social connections. This makes them weigh things based on their exalted level and class. Others are simply out to say things followers want to hear and draw up more followers.

          To tell you the truth, it is at your own detriment to use the fantasies of someone else in laying the basis of your anticipated or current relationship. Relationship is based on mutual understanding. If Miss Lizzy has found a man who likes to cook for her and talks about it delightfully, it doesn’t mean you should expect your man to do same for you. Relationship is complicated because people of diverse backgrounds are merged. Every guy is different and has strong and weak points. Most Nigerian guys grew up seeing their mothers help the family with domestic activities like cooking, cleaning up, putting the house in physical order, also respecting and supporting the husband morally and otherwise as well as contributing to some extent financially. When a guy from such a background starts a relationship with a lady of this generation and she keeps complaining that domestic roles should be shared or that she’s too tired to be doing all the cooking and cleaning for a house of two people, or that she cannot bring out her salary for home building because it’s the man’s job to provide, do you expect that kind of man to stand her? No man wants a lazy woman who will sit on her glorified seat and not be willing to bend down and pick a pin on the floor. The so called feminists have forgotten Nigeria has a way of life. The husband is the head and the wife is a help meet.  There may be one or two exceptions based on mutual understanding but men are naturally cut out to come in when the task or chore is heavy and physical. This is not to say men don’t do light works in the house like to dust a piece of furniture or dress the matrimonial bed or help out one way or the other. They do that too but it doesn’t mean if he recoils from such tasks, the partner should make a scene out of it. I stand to discourage the perspective that it is statutory that males must be compelled to bend to the desire of the women in helping in what is usually the role of the woman, in the name of gender equality. You may argue with me: who made the rule that it’s the role of a woman? I’ll ask back: are you smarter than the system that worked for our parents and grandparents? How many divorces and separations did you hear back then?

          There are several ways a man can show love to and respect his partner: he can always be there to support her, make her feel valued, provide for her needs and place her as priority in his life. A woman who is wise will not ask for more. She will not ask him to help blend the crayfish or help wash the baby’s clothes. She will respect him, plan her schedule to allow her manage home affairs and her job effectively. A wise man appreciates hard work and can willingly offer to help. If he doesn’t, he has other ways of showing his appreciation. Women who are humble and willing to build their homes are the ones that win the heart of their men. Those who nag, argue and debate, complain of being too utilized, always readily drawing the man into simple domestic affairs, are likely to lose their relationships. Women who want to follow the template of a Facebook post from a so-called feminist may lose their relationships.

Stop feeding yourself with the dream picture of Prince Charming that will bring you breakfast in bed. Wake up, wash your face and face reality. Build your relationship based on what you both desire, not what one single (or unhappily married) lady who has probably been having relationship problems all her life will be dishing out on media. Be wise. Any question?