₦airaland Forum

EPISODE 12

...The next day, I switched off all my phones and left home. My mum had called me at least 20times that morning to keep reminding me that I should not throw away this opportunity to settle down. I checked into a room in Penisula Resort, Ajah, away from everybody to think. I knew I had but a few hours to make the call to Yomi. I needed to be sure I said the right thing when I made it. I’ve seen all your comments and (strong) opinions. But trust me, when you are in the shoes, you’ll find it’s not that easy to do any of these things.
As I lay there, I began to imagine what he would be doing now. Probably curled up somewhere with Adamu, somewhere I should be. Lord! This was going to be all what my life would be if I married Yomi. Well, two can play the game. I decided to practice what my life would look like if I went ahead with the marriage.

I turned my private number on and dialed Kalu’s number from memory. The moment I turned it on, three text messages from mumsy came in. That woman can like to leave me alone now! After the second try, Kalu’s phone rang. The cow was so full of himself, the caller tune was one of those you recorded by yourself. Here’s what it went like “Welcome to Kalu’s Phone. Hang on to speak with the hottest and flyest of them all.” Arrrrrgh! I almost hung up, this guy was so childish at 38. Men, I thought I was through with the likes of him. Anyways, he picked up and spoke with a hint of surprise and amusement.

Kalu: The Lagos big girl calls lowly us. To remind us to attend her wedding abi?
Me: it’s because of this your goatiness that I could never be serious with you. Where are you sha?
Kalu: Where you left me noni. You? (He hadn’t lost his touch. He was already coding what I wanted)
Me: Somewhere in Ajah, personal getaway before the wedding. All alone (this felt real silly)
Kalu: Really? Call the boo to come around now (Kalu can like to make everything hard. If I could call the boo, shay I will be calling him abi?)
Me: You know it’s bad luck for the groom to see his bride before the wedding. So boo stays put. You won’t come and say hi to your friend before she finally becomes a Mrs. abi?
Kalu: Ping me the details, I’m coming.
I ended the call. It’s funny how you can say a lot, without actually saying the specifics. I had just booty-called (yes men get booty-called) Kalu without any mention of it. But unlike the old days when I would phone select with no qualms, there was a knot in my tummy. This just didn’t feel right. And this was what I was meant to do for the rest of my life. I do something silly that I should confess here. If you tell me now two people are dating, I unconsciously imagine them together in bed. If the picture in my head gels, then I immediately support the relationship. If e no gel, well, I believe the relationship will likewise not gel. Hence I can never do an aristo. The picture won’t just gel.

I closed my eyes to imagine being with Kalu… bad picture. I turned my phone off again. Kalu wasn’t getting any pings from me.
I began to wander sort of aimlessly around the grounds. If someone was watching me, I probably looked like I was looking for some suicide spot. Eventually, I got to a stone bench beside a beautiful stone arch running over a small spring of water and I sat on it, eyes closed, lost in thought as I watched the water run over those smooth white pebbles at the bottom of the pool.
Reminiscent of when we met for the first time on the plane, it was the voice that drew me out of my reverie. I opened my eyes and sure enough, Yomi was seated on the stone bench right beside me. How he had found me, I couldn’t phantom. God, I loved him. Even knowing what I knew, with him seating just a few inches from me, I wanted to do nothing more than reach out and hold him in my arms.
This heart en, I will never understand how it works. My head was saying all the right things to make me loathe him, that he deceived me, that he could never love me cos I was a woman, that I could never be happy with him and that I should hate him with all my being. My mind even brought up the repulsive picture of him and Adamu replayed like some picture by MopeBob, vivid and clear. But in spite of all my head was saying, my heart was steadfastly, stupidly refusing to listen. The moment I saw him, I melted like butter, sigh! (I see you rolling your eyes now, just don’t let it fall out).

“Yomi, how did you find me?”
“You always come here to run away. It didn’t take long to figure out where you were when you were unreachable and not at home.”
I had totally forgotten that Yomi and I used this place for getaways. All he needed to do was make a phone call and he woulda found me. But I didn’t think he would be looking for me.
“So why did you find me? I thought I was going to call you later”.
He placed a hand on mine and looked me in the eye. My heart did a flip (this my gymnast of a heart en).
“Oyin, we both know that whatever decision you are going to make is already made. So rather than wait for a call, I came to get it first hand from you now”.
My palms became sweaty “Yomi, I, I, I,” I stammered.
He moved closer, “You haven’t made one yet? Then make one now”, he cut in.
What kind of tactic is this? I looked into his eyes squarely. I knew what I was going to do. I decided to marry Yomi...

EPISODE 11

...I stood there, jaw dropped all the way to the ground. Even with all the racing of my imagination, this scenario had not occurred once. I had imagined rushing into the room and throwing a huge tantrum and even throwing the girl out in her underwear. I had imagined pulling her hair. Scratching her face. Slapping her silly. I had imagined doing many other things to her. But this was not a her. It was a he, the he I had been trying to hook my best friend with just a few hours ago. For about five more minutes, they didn’t notice anyone had come in, lost in their perverted bliss. Then he opened his eyes and saw me. I expected to see fear, to see alarm that he had been discovered, but instead I saw a calm that sent a chill down my spine.

He calmly disentangled himself from Adamu and stood before me. I still couldn’t utter a word. Still naked, he sat in his office chair. Adamu could not be bothered by my presence. He just lay there, a content and satisfied look on his face.
“So you have found out my little secret a little earlier than I intended. You were supposed to discover this after we were through with the wedding, but since you have found out now, I might as well lay all the cards on the table”. He spoke like we were in his office for a business meeting, not like I had two naked men in there. I screamed “Yomi! Little secret? How could you do this to me? How?” I broke down crying loudly as I crumpled to the ground. My legs simply gave way beneath me.

“You need to stop the hysterics and listen to me with the rational part of your mind and then carefully consider what I’m about to say before you make a decision.” My crying pattered down to sobs and I looked to him to hear what he was gonna say. My angel of light had just transformed into the darkest demon from the pit of hell. And he was so calm.
“I’m gay, bisexual or homo, worreva you want to call it, as you have discovered. I discovered my sexuality since secondary school but knowing my family, I’ve kept it hidden from most people. But my family has become suspicious of this fact. And considering this society and the kind of fortune I stand to lose if I have any issues in my relationship with my family, I had to come up with a plan. My plan was to find someone who was eager to marry, and bring her home to my family. My chance overhearing of your conversation with your friend at the airport told me I’d found the right candidate. I have not been wrong so far. Once we are married, all suspicions about my sexual orientation would be ruled out, especially if we have a child quickly. Are you with me?”

I kept quiet, and he took that as a sign that he should continue.
“I still want us to get married, in spite of your discovery. The deal is this – I give you the marriage that you’ve always wanted, so you can leave the spinster’s club, and get a new surname and the respect that you crave at being addressed as a married woman. And of course, to get your mum off your back. You give me legitimacy and face saving with my family, and critically, continued access to the family wealth. The marriage will be very open, you can date whoever you want to, and I’ll carry on my own affairs but we’ll both need to be discreet and project the image of a happy couple to the public and our families. You’ll of course have your own share of the wealth, to use as you please. You’d really not have to work again. And you could live on any continent, in any kind of housing you like, away from prying eyes in Naija. You can date anyone you like. You don’t even have to see me except for important family functions. You’ll have what you always wanted, a husband and a new surname, plus very plenty freebies, and I’ll have what I need. That is the deal.”

I sat on the floor dumbfounded by what he was saying. How could this guy just sit there and spew such arrant nonsense. Adamu got up from the table and went over me like I wasn’t there to get a drink.
Yomi continued “I don’t expect you to make a decision immediately. But you do have to come back to me within three days so I can know if the wedding is happening or not.”
He stood up and left the room with Adamu.
For minutes, I just sobbed quietly on the floor, you know, those quiet kinds of sobs that draw from the deepest depths of the heart. My picture perfect relationship had been shattered with exactly one week to my wedding.
The rational thinking part of me screamed that I should call it all off. Call the relationship off. Call the wedding off. Cut every contact with Yomi and his ilk. I really felt like slitting my wrists and just letting it all out. But a more basal part of me spoke into my mind, telling me it was not such a bad deal, that I’d be getting all I could get and that many girls would pounce on such a deal. I tried to drown these thoughts with my sobs, but they kept tearing back to the surface on my mind.

I am confused and ashamed that I’m confused about this choice. If I was ten years younger, I would walk away without looking back. But I’m approaching 36, with a very public relationship and all. Yomi is evil, I could see that now. He knew this would happen, and that I would feel trapped.
I sped dialed Toke. “Please come and pick me at Yomi’s house”. She tried to ask me what the issue was but I had cut the call.
In the wildest of my imaginations, I never imagined I would be at this kind of crossroads. It’s day 2 of Yomi’s ultimatum for a feedback and I am utterly confused. First I do not talk to either Gloria or Ossy any longer. Ossy was very mean to me. From the day he met me at the airport, he had known all about Yomi. Yomi had been his senior in secondary school. So he knew. That’s why he smiled that smile when I told him Yomi hadn’t touched me. That was why he spoke so sarcastically. Jealousy had blinded him so much that he didn’t bother to rescue his friend from this dilemma. A word from him would have alerted me to the danger I was in and saved me all this trouble.
But in my moments of reflection, I knew even if he had spoken out then, I would not have taken him seriously. I would have interpreted it as the angry ranting of a scorned man.
Now I was torn between calling of my well publicized and much anticipated wedding at my age or going into a life that I knew I couldn’t be happy living.

If I took the first option, I would be the ridicule of the town, tagged as a woman who cannot just settle down. People would assume that the man had discovered something that all the other men before him had discovered that made them call the wedding off. People would assume he was being a gentleman by not revealing what he had discovered. In our culture, for such things, it’s the woman that would be blamed, be scorned and be ridiculed. I would be cannon fodder for soft sells and bloggers.
If I took the second option, that would not be the life of bliss with my husband I had always dreamt about. I would be comfortable and free, yes, but at a huge cost. And something in my heart told me that as such things go, at some point in future, it would come to light and then I would be publicly disgraced as a money hungry woman who didn’t mind marrying someone who was gay to help him cover it up for financial gain.
The conversation with my mum went something like this
“En, kini oju o ri ri? (What’s new under the sun?). At least he isn’t a wife beater or ritualist or armed robber. You better do now and marry, and don’t bring shame to this family’s name”.
Toke says I should not be stupid and throw away what I had found on a small issue like that. She was of the opinion that the deal I was being served was what many girls would kill to have. “You have a husband; can date anyone you want and truckloads of money, plus a hold on your husband to request anything and he would not be able to refuse. Don’t be foolish my dear”. But when I told her Adamu might be interested in having the same arrangement with her, she began to stammer. That told me what she really thought of the arrangement. It was good for me but not for her.

Hot Pastor expressly told me in firm terms that I shouldn’t go ahead in spite of the pressure. He sermonized and all, but also made plenty sense. What if someone better was just around the corner and Yomi was the devil’s temptation to shortchange me from getting that?
Everywhere I went, everyone was greeting me and congratulating me on the soon to come wedding. My new name in their mouths was Iyawo, the bride and so on. Each time they called me so, I cringed. I decided to go away from everyone to think. There just seemed to be too much interference from all of them...
~To be continued.

What's your view about Oyin's predicament?

EPISODE 10

...Its been three months now that I’ve been dating Yomi, two months since he proposed so dramatically and all my dreams about marriage were about to come true. I’m now on one tabloid or the other, from City People to Encomium to Saturday Punch. I’m on Linda Ikeji’s blog and Bellanaija. And when they put pictures of me up, I’m not referred to as Tiwa Savage and “guest” in the pictures I appear. Now they know my name. A picture containing Toke and I was tagged as Oyin Clegg and Friend. Toke was mad en, but my profile was hyped plenty (just kidding o). And for all those who were wondering about Yomi’s prowess in bed, let me just tell you that in spite of my (vast) experience, I was surprised that I always seemed to have one thing or the other to learn each time we were in bed.

When Yomi’s people came for the formal introduction, my mother did it like it was the actual engagement. Aso Ebi, souvenirs, photo book and co. She pulled all the stops, and she had every reason to. When they said she should pray, mumsy nearly embarrassed me with all the song and prayer drama. That my mama, she can be a drama queen. Not one to delay, and as money was not a constraint and we both are not kids, we set wedding date for a month later, about a week after his birthday. We intended to start the wedding celebrations with his birthday party and end it with a one of a kind reception bash. As my mama put it, aiye a gbo, orun a mo (translated – the world will hear and the heavens will know).
My greatest fear had been whether Yomi’s family would accept me. Would they like me? I was doing very well on my own, but all these pedigree families always want their sons to marry from their world, especially when he was an only son. And sisters can be so totally mean to whichever girl comes into the life of their only brother.
All my fears were unfounded. They all seemed glad and relieved that Yomi was finally about to settle down, and that he was not going to marry any of his Jamaican, Puerto Rican, French or Italian babes. I felt lucky and blessed. I reminisced on the many disappointments­ on my journey here. The many reasons I hadn’t gotten married – one I had loved that couldn’t perform in bed. One that thought his wife was meant to be the indentured servant of his lordship. One that wanted me to marry only dreams and talk of great futures. And plenty other orisirisi.

I shall not bore you with the plenty activities that went into the weeks preceding the wedding week. Suffice to say I almost became a bridezilla, armed with my copy of Funke Buknor-Obruthe’­­s book. By the day of Yomi’s birthday party, I was exhausted, and had been ordered by Yomi to hands off the wedding preparations or there’d be no me left for him to marry.
The birthday party was a blast. We held it at Yomi’s house on Gerard Road in Ikoyi. The house was one of those colonial houses that had a vast compound, a driveway with trees that touched way up in the middle, shielding the sun away and a huge pool. When you live in those kinds of houses in Ikoyi, you had to be old Lagos money, very old money. And this would be my new home soon. I was already trying my hands on marshaling the staff that oversaw the property, no mean feat. By evening when the party began, I was already tired from all the organizing.

See, rich people know how to party. Rich people’s kids are on another level of knowing how to party, maybe because they are not the ones that made the money they spend on the parties. It was at this party that I first met Yomi’s best man. While Yomi was all stability and fun, Adamu was excitement and daredevil adrenaline personified. He wasn’t your typical northerner, his accent was not there at all, and he had those fine Fulani features that money and breeding accentuated further. Where Yomi was dark chocolate, he was yummy butter. And like all of Yomi’s friends I had met, he was into everything that spun money and was mega rich. I quickly steered him towards Toke and all my match making juices began to flow.
Once the party was in full swing, and I had shaken my bum bum to the admiration of Yomi and company and to the contentment of my heart, I decided to retire and sleep. I was too tired after all the work that had gone into putting it together. And I guessed that at some point, he would want to party alone with his boys without having his soon to be wife looking over his shoulder. It was already like 12midnight and the early effects of alcohol had begun to make people more excited. I did a quick check on Toke and she was already doing a good job with Adamu on her own. My good work for the night was done. I wasn’t doing badly as the soon to be chief hostess of the Kester-Jacob's family.

I woke up around 4am and checked my side to see if Yomi had joined me in bed. His side of the bed was empty, but the noise of the party had stopped so I knew the party was over. I checked my bb and saw a couple of messages. The only ones I bothered to read before I got up were Toke’s messages. Adamu had dropped her off at home at about 2am and things were looking promising with him. I tumbled out of bed and began to pick things up all over the house, sort of sleep walking through the house, hoping to see Yomi sleeping on some couch or bed in one of the many rooms. I couldn’t find him after about twenty minutes of wondering around the big house. I’m not one to panic but I have a sixth sense, and this morning, it was telling me to find my man.
The house was a mess. I strayed into the kitchen. The plump cook, Clara was already up, cleaning after the party. “Madam, good morning o”, she greeted. “Clara, how are you. Have you seen your oga?”
“Oga follow Oga Adamu commot”, she answered.
Relieved that he had not run off with some random girl, I went back into the main house. That also meant Toke didn’t do badly, Adamu left her so he could have some boy catching up time with Yomi. I made a mental note to let Toke know this.
I wandered around the house for a bit. And if it hadn’t been so quiet that early in the morning (and I hadn’t been so idle) I wouldn’t have heard it. But faint as it was, I heard sounds coming from the direction of Yomi’s home office. I picked up pace as I moved towards the office.
As I got closer to the office, the sounds got louder, even though they were still somewhat muffled. My heartbeat quickened as I approached the door and the blood began to pound in my ears. My imagination ran a marathon in the short distance I covered to reach it.
I opened the door, slightly at first, and the muffled sounds became clear. Yomi’s voice. And another. I angrily threw the door open, imagining the evil things I would do to the girl I was about to catch my man with.
I got the shocker of my life. Yomi was having sex with Adamu on the office table...

EPISODE 9

Option taken – "Three!". Yes, against all my Lagos sharp sense, I decided to take a risk on Yomi and tell him the truth, and scenario three played out. Lesson learnt – if you want it long term with someone, come out clean, no hidden anything. He looked me in the eye after I had told him and said “Oyin, if you had lied, I would have known and I would have ended it here and now.” And I knew he meant it.

Sunday was my day with my girls (proudly so). I could regale you with all the tales of our day at the beach, but the only part you are gonna read is the fact that the oooohs and aaaahs that I got as I told them about Yomi and I could fill a book. Toke knew of Yomi (who Toke no sabi), and she told me I had hit it big if I hooked him. Glo was also very happy for me and I felt refreshed and ready for the week. Okay, lemme give you guys a bit of juicy gist from Gloria. Remember Alvin who was supposed to send the iPad that I was supposed to win in the episode about Mr. X (RME) with the H factor? Well, Gloria thought they were headed somewhere. He’s based in Jand and used to call her a lot initially. Recently, he has reduced his calling and he’s been complaining about all sorts and giving excuses for not calling. She called him while I was away in Dubai, and the conversation went something like this
Gloria: Hello darling
Female Voice: May I know who is speaking? (English accent)
Gloria: That’s my line. Why are you answering my boyfriend’s phone
Female Voice: Because I’m his wife and the mother of his two kids?
Gloria: (Quiet)
Female Voice: Alvin… come and get the phone
Alvin: Who is this?
Gloria: Who was that?
Alvin: My wife.
Gloria: Alvin, you are married…
Alvin: I can explain. It’s for my papers. It’s one oyinbo woman.
Gloria slammed the phone

All these foolish men that will come here and be deceiving us. That’s why me I don’t do distance. Too much room for lies and deceit abeg. The talk is in the eyes, oju loro wa.

Monday and I got to work and raced to my desk. I avoided going anywhere I thought I would meet Ossy. That’s the issue with office anything. I had not even dated and broken up with him and it was this awkward. I couldn’t imagine how it would be if we had actually dated. Gladly, I knew it was a bad idea and didn’t date him.
Apart from that, the day was a blast. Everyone commented on how well I looked and how good the rest must have been. I chose not to call Yomi to see if our first work day apart would be a no talk during the day kinda work day. My booboo sugarbunny snucklesnuggle (did u roll your eyes?) called me thrice during the day and we talked (I used my handsfree o, all you LASTMA people reading this) all through my drive home...hehehe!

And so my week went something like this – great days at work, two dinners with boo, and #my lips are sealed about these parts#. Suffice to say that I had ice cream eaten off me and so on and so forth.
On Saturday morning, I decided to check on Gloria and squeeze breakfast out of her lazy ass. I thought I was through with shockers in this my life, but I got a huge one as I rounded the bend into her street. There was my yellow pawpaw friend, leaning over a car I was very familiar with and kissing the occupant squarely on the lips. The car drove past mine as I tried to park properly, and it was gone before I got out of my car.

“Gloria, what was that you were doing with Ossy?”
Gloria gave me a look that said en en and then fired “Question! What did it seem like I was doing?”
“But Glo, it’s Ossy now. You cannot be seriously seeing him now. It’s just wrong on different levels.”
“Why? Tell me one reason why? It’s not like you are dating him or like you ever did. Now that you’ve found you a good man, na only you wan marry? Me I didn’t see anything bad in Ossy, and so I called him up. We hooked up, and he shared his own heartbreak and I shared mine. And one thing led to another. What exactly is wrong about dating a very single man who seems ready to settle down and is seriously talking marriage at my 36years old?”
“Glo, seriously talking marriage after how long now? He was seriously thinking marriage with me just a few weeks ago. It smells fishy o”
“So it smells fishy because it’s not you abi? Please spare me abeg”.
I just stood speechless because I knew she was in the right with everything she was saying, but a certain but kept playing at the back of my mind. It just didn’t sit right. In that split second, I had to caution myself. Was I expecting Ossy to keep waiting for me ni? And shouldn’t I have been happy for him when I expected him to be happy for me when he met Yomi? And it wasn’t really worth quarreling with Gloria over. Really not.

“Oya sorry dear, na just shock catch me”, I said, smiling at Gloria. I could see she was visibly relieved that I wasn’t going to make issues out of this situation.
“Since man sleep for your house, I hope you sha cooked for him because me na food I come chop for your house.”
“Yes now, I had to show him I’m wife material now”
“En, and I know it’s not just in the cooking you showed him, oya gist me every every abeg.”
She threw her head back and laughed. It was good to see my friend laugh. “You know that thing Toke said about Bini men…”
I winked and laughed too “Dem no dey carry last at all at all”
She winked too and led me into the house for the “fullness of the gist therein”, lol.
A month later, Gloria and Ossy were married and I was the chief bride’s maid.

In my heart, as I stood behind her and my friends said I do to each other, I looked back at my own man in the aisle. It was going so well with Yomi, I couldn’t help but be happy for Glo and Ossy. Somewhere in my heart, a small voice told me this would be my last bride’s maid assignment. I said a silent amen.
And as if in answer to my prayer, at the wedding reception, rather than throw her bouquet, Glo walked up to me and handed it over to me. I was still trying to understand what all that was about when Yomi walked up to me, dropped on one knee and proposed. I nearly fainted in delight. No words came to my mouth. I could only nod my answer, so vigorously my head almost dropped off.
I thought my search was over at long last...

EPISODE 8

...I got back from Dubai five days later, with my man. Now that’s the sweetest thing to say. Me, Oyin omo Clegg that left Lagos manless, I'm returning with a man, and a hec hunk of a man. I wish I would run into that Moroti again now, so I could smugly answer all her snide questions, but fate would not have it so. And you know, the sweetest thing about Yomi is that all through our stay in Dubai, he didn’t ask for sex (even though I was hoping he would #evilgrin#). He wanted to prove to me that it was not just a holiday/­business trip fling he wanted. SO he told me that we would save the real deal (yes, there were other things I shall keep only to myself) until much later. Men, o ti ba mi seriously for this guy. It felt like I’d known him for more than the few days we had spent in Dubai. We had connected on so many levels. The trip had been so much fun, and he had spoilt me silly, shopping, spa treatments, exotic meals et al. These days sha, I have toned down on the dreaming (wisely so, after my last set of experiences), so I hadn’t started imagining us walking down any aisle or dancing to Chop My Money at our wedding reception.

For the first time when I was returning from outside, I didn’t notice the Naija heat as we stepped out of the plane. I practically waltzed to the arrival lounge to wait for my luggage. I couldn’t be bothered that the air-conditionin­g wasn’t working there. Yomi guided me away from the conveyor belt, “We don’t have to wait dear; my people will sort the luggage out and deliver it to your house”. See levels o. #In Jenifa Voice# ayam on the fast track! Lol. This was the life men. I couldn’t wait to fill my girls in on my trip. I had loads of pictures on my iPad and BB to ensure that my gist was substantiated with visual evidence lest they began to think I had gone so delusional I was now having an imaginary boyfriend.

I was so engrossed in this world I didn’t see him. But he had seen me, seen it all. Seen me all over Yomi. Seen Yomi playfully kiss my forehead. Even seen me slap his butt as I laughed at a joke. He stood transfixed to the spot he was, and I’m sure if he was white, he would have been bright red from the look on his face. I looked up and I saw Ossy standing, a bouquet of roses in hand, eyes blazing at me. In my enraptured world, I had totally forgotten about the reason I had been on my way to Dubai in the first place. This was bad, really bad. How would I manage Ossy to make sure he didn’t create any scene? How would I explain to Yomi that there was nothing between me and this man who knew my travel plans so well that he knew when to wait at the airport, rose in hand for me? Ossy stood where he was, as if daring me not to come to him.

“Yomi, I’ve gotta say hello to someone, I’ll be back shortly”. Thankfully, he was on the phone and only nodded. I walked gingerly towards Ossy, feeling like a child who had done something bad and was about to face her daddy for that wrongdoing.

“Hi”, I ventured.
“And what the hell are you doing with him all like that?” he asked not so calmly, his hands saying more than his lips were.
I firmed my voice up. After all, I wasn’t dating Ossy, and had the right to see anyone I wanted. “I met him on the trip and we connected. And take that look out of your eyes, he hasn’t touched me”.
“Of course he hasn’t”, Ossy said sarcastically.
I was angered. “What exactly do you mean by that? And why do I have to explain myself to you?”
He threw the roses on the floor and smiled “of course you don’t have to. And as to what I meant, you’ll find out in due time”.
The smile sent a chill down my spine more than anything Ossy said. I placed a hand on his shoulder and tried to plead with him “Ossy, you are my friend. I always thought you would be happy for me when I finally met someone. Now is the time to be happy for me dear. Please.” He put a hand on my hand and looked into my eyes and it was only then I could see the sadness there. Then he took my hands of his shoulder and let it go. Right there, I felt a deep sense of loss. I had lost a friend.

“Hey dear, who’s this?” Yomi asked from behind me. I tried to formulate all the answers I could that would make sense in my head, but I drew on blanks.
“I’m Ossy, her colleague from work. Meeting my madam here today jare, she’s been away for barely a week and it seems like an eternity already”, Ossy answered, chuckling.
Yomi laughed too. “That’s this love thing oh,” he said, putting his arms around me to mark me as “territory”. I have never felt that awkward, but Ossy was such a sport. Then Yomi turned to me “time to go dear, driver’s waiting and luggage is all sorted”.
We said our goodbyes and I walked away with Yomi. I couldn’t look back to see Ossy. I knew I wasn’t doing anything technically wrong, cos I hadn’t asked for any of the things Ossy had done for me, neither was I dating him. But I still felt real bad.
Two cars had come to pick us, an Armada for the luggage and a G-Wagon for us. Expectedly, the moment the car moved, he asked “So who really is that guy”? I weighed my options in my head.

Option 1 – Lie so well and get away with it (I doubted I’d be able to pull that off)
Option 2 – Lie so badly it would look like I was hiding something and lose Yomi
Option 3 – Tell the truth and Yomi would believe and all would be well
Option 4 – Tell the truth and Yomi would believe there’s more between Ossy and I than I told him and lose him.
Life is so unfair. The odds are totally stacked against me. Why is it that of the four options, three have to end badly for me? Would I have to delete those pictures and have no stories to tell Toke and Gloria when I get home today?
I looked into his eyes and made my choice...

To be continued.....

EPISODE 7

...And so Oyin Clegg broke out of her depression. Not exactly getting her groove back yet oh. And she’s happy, a man might have finally killed the dragon to come rescue her from the dungeon of singleness with his sweetness. See me oh, as Ossy is making me wax lyrical. Me that called in sick at work that morning was in a cab enroute the airport, looking all fly, omo toh badt gaan. I wore my favorite jeans, one that made men turn around and take a second look at my behind, and a chiffon top with a hat to match and my very tech specs. I surveyed myself before my mirror for a few minutes. If you can have a tummy like mine at 35 without body magic and lipo, then you are one of the chosen few (some of you will say shebi I haven’t had kids yet, but darris your consign #yimu). Satisfied with what I saw, I called my cab man. I’m one of those that yab people for coming to the airport dressed as if they were going to a Paris runway, but hec, I’m feeling gay and intend to dress every inch so. I tried Ossy’s number again but when it didn’t go through, I kuku sent him a VN, expressing (profuse) thanks and calling him many sweet names I shall not mention to you.

Onto big girl things, I didn’t use any of those painted cabs. My cab man drove a black Honda City, with full blasting ac. With Lagos traffic, caused by unruly drivers, things like Lekki toll gate and the sheer number of we Lagosians that equate owning your own car to a status symbol, the ac is very essential.
After battling mad traffic, I made it to the airport just on time. Thankfully, Ossy had checked me in online and I didn’t have excess luggage, so I just went up, got frisked and went into the waiting area to chill for the next 30minutes for my flight (30mins before is just on time for a flight in Naija). I was so engrossed in the Tunde Leye novel I was reading on my iPad, I didn’t notice her when she walked up to me, until her hands covered the screen. I was about to give it to the person when I saw who it was. And she was the last person I wanted to see.

You know those people that seem to have perfect lives, as against your own. Got into university right out of secondary school when you waited for Jamb for a year. Got a 2;1 while being very popular in school, whereas you had to select which semester you wanted to pass and which you wanted to be social. Has a job just as good as yours. Got married in her mid twenties. Has a fine hubby. Two kids, one boy and one girl. And the person has a way of asking “innocent” questions that are really veiled barbs aimed at you where it pains most. And each time you see her, you are reminded of how much your life is missing. That’s the five foot eight yellow pawpaw standing in front of me now.

“Hi Oyin, so nice to run into you…”
“Moroti, moroti (fake smile from me), how now? Been a while o. where are you headed”.
“My own waka no dey pass UK now. Are you traveling alone? (barb question 1, meaning, hope you have finally found a man)
I responded “Holidaying in Dubai.”
“Abdul is around with the kids oh, I left him with them there when I saw you and decided to come say hi”. (Barb 2, meaning some of us have a family we travel with).
We chatted for a bit, and she kept throwing the barbs, until the announcer saved me. Normally, they have to announce like three times before I go and board, but today, before the first announcement was finished, I escaped from Moroti sharply. No goodie two shoes was gonna spoil my mood for this trip.

In no time, I boarded and was glad I had a window seat. On my way in, I had passed one of those agbayas that still dress like Wizkid and Davido wannabes when they’re over thirty. Beats me how a full grown man will want to dress like a boy. Some of them are old enough to be Davido’s daddy oh. Anyway, I stowed away my luggage overhead and took my seat.
Not wanting to be disturbed, I looked intently into the window and got lost in thought, oblivious to the goings-on around me.

“Interesting convo with your friend there”, came a thick, rich baritone from beside me, drawing me out of my beautiful thoughts. I turned to see who had such a lovely voice, praying in that breath that the man would match his voice.
Oh my God, yes oh my goodness gracious God. The prayer was answered. Emphatically answered. Resoundingly answered. Beside me was my dream. Taye Diggs complexion. Chocolatey (pronounce Cha-ka-lay-ti ) Even seated you could tell he was tall. Age, I put somewhere in the range of 37 (yes, I have in-built age sensors in my eyes). Well put together. Immaculately dressed. Well manicured finger nails. Those dancing, intelligent kinda eyes. Handsoooooooome­. Mo gbe, mo ku, mo daran (in Wande Coal voice inside my head).

I straightened up sharply, thankful I had taken care to dress as well as I did. He introduced himself as Yomi Kester-Jacobs. My head did a quick memory search. It couldn’t be the same Kester-Jacobs, Lagos big family (yes I keep well informed of such). And if I wasn’t mistaken, this Yomi was the scion and only son of that family. “Oyin Clegg”, I said calmly, masking the riot of thoughts going through my mind. “So are you really travelling alone?” he pressed. I didn’t have any qualms admitting that to a dashing stranger who seemed alone himself. “Yeah”, I replied. “And you?”
He was alone too. I knew this Yomi to be single, from the tabloids. I asked if he was just stopping over in Dubai enroute elsewhere in Asia and he wasn’t. He was in Dubai for four days on business. I told him I was in Dubai for five days. “Well, it is not good for man to be alone, so says the Holy Book,” he joked, and then offered to be my company in Dubai. I did a backflip in my mind. “Sure”, I said chic-ily.
By the time I landed in Dubai, I had all but forgotten about Ossy. And so began my whirlwind romance with Lagos big boy, Yomi Kester-Jacobs..­.

EPISODE 6

I could not even drink myself to sleep that night. No alcohol could numb my pain and I spent a large part of the night re-enacting the night in my head and adding all sorts of evil things I should have done to Femi as he left. I couldn’t pull myself together to go to work the next day and quickly sent an sms to my boss to allow me take the day off. I stumbled around my house in just my underwear, picking things up, arranging things. I had Adele’s 21 album on repeat. Talk about setting the mood. Men, Femi hit me way way way below the belt. I had mumutized big time.

It was 8:30am when my phone rang. I didn’t bother to pick the phone, I didn’t want to talk to anyone that day. The phone rang a few more times, and I let it ring out. Then my other phone rang, and I knew it had to be someone real close, since few people had that number. I stumble-walked into the room from where I stood in the parlor and checked the caller id. It was Ossy. I picked the call and put the phone on speaker as I flopped onto the bed.

Ossy: Hey babes
Me: Hi
Ossy: Dropped into your office and was told you called in sick. What’s the ish dear
Me: Yeah
Ossy: Ah an! Which one is this monosyllabic mode you are giving me now?
Me: Sorry
Ossy: Anyways, open your door, I’m here
Me: Where?
As an answer, my doorbell rang. I heard it both from outside and through my phone.
Me: What! (Shriek) You’re at the door. Ossyyyyyyyyy
Okay, lemme tell you about Ossy before you begin to wonder if all my travails have finally left me delusional and I’ve started taking phone calls from an imaginary person. Ossy works in my office. He’s an oga, so Oil and Gas money plenty, dashing dark dude, witty, intelligent and goes out of his way to make me happy. And men, when I say goes out of his way, I mean he wows me steady. Ossy doesn’t hide that he’s crazy about me, and wants me to be his woman.
I’m sure by now you are wondering if I am crazy. Here I am, going through hell and high waters to find a husband, and I have Ossy dying to make me his wife. But I guess that’s the irony of life. Ossy being so available makes him just not desired like that and his sweetness sometimes comes off as desperately dramatic. So he provides the shoulder that I cry on whenever my heart is broken (which is better than having Toke tell me “I told you so” in every gesture), the ears that listen to my tales of woe, and the balm that soothes and heals me. Every time, he hopes; and every time so far, I have run out on him once healed. I know I’m gonna get possessive if he ever wants to marry another girl sha. By the way, Ossy is short for Ositalogbon Onisokame. Each time I consider him, somehow, the thought of going from Oyin Clegg to Oyin Onisokame sort of does a Hulk Smash! And beats all such thoughts to death.

Anyway, back to today. So I put on a boubou and headed for the door. When I opened the door, Ossy’s wide smile greeted me and I couldn’t help but give him a tired smile. “Seems you’ve gone down one cup size”, he said, grinning mischievously. I laughed for the first time since yesterday night. Ossy’s way of telling me I’ve lost weight is to point out that my boobs have become smaller. Nonsense shudren.
“I would say you look like a hot mess, but then you know that already.” He stepped in and gave inglorious me a big hug and I felt safe in his arms.
“First to make sure you add flesh.” He went into my kitchen and began to rummage through my fridge. In minutes, a beautiful aroma began coming out of my kitchen. Ossy came out and changed the music. “No sad women singing about broken hearts for company, only dashing young men”. He slotted in Tu Baba’s Unstoppable album and did some silly dance moves. A few minutes past 9, a sumptuous breakfast of bread and eggs and sausages was ready with steaming coffee. He served me on the couch and I began to break the bread at the edges. As I ate and the heat of the coffee warmed my hands, I began to pour out my woes to Ossy. He listened to me patiently and kept me eating as I spoke.

“Ossy, you want to get me fat and unattractive so no man else will like me abi?” I asked laughing. “Anything to achieve my aims,” he retorted, a sheepish smile on his face too. Somewhere, something tugged at my mind and kept asking me why dependability was within reach and I kept looking for the super duper flyest hubby around. Toke had once asked me if I wasn’t being followed from wherever I am from. Sometimes I wonder so too myself.
The shrill sound of Ossy’s alarm broke into our world and he quickly checked the phone. “Gotta go, appointment at DPR”. My mood took an instant nosedive.
He kissed my forehead and adjusted his tuck-in. Reluctantly, I stood up to go and let him out and waited at the door to hear the sound of his car leave and then dragged my feet to the couch. My house felt empty without now that I was alone. BBs are saviors at times like these. Going through updated status messages (and everyone does that jor) is an easy way to while away such time. I picked my BB up and noticed it was blinking. I had ignored it all morning, so I guessed I had tons of pending messages.
All the usual suspects had sent me messages. My mum. My girls. Kalu (RME) and hawt (as one of the commentators on the blog corrected me) Pastor. Most recent of my chats was one from Ossy. I quickly opened the chat to see what he was saying. I had two pending voice notes from him. I played the first and his voice came through.

“Hey dear. Go to your kitchen and look under your microwave. Do not open the second VN until you do”. He chuckled at the end of the message and I was so totally tempted to open the second one but decided to play along. I ran into the kitchen and lifted the microwave up. My eyes widened when I saw what was there. A return ticket to Dubai and a 5 day holiday package. I quickly listened to the second VN. Ossy’s voice sounded like sweetness now “I think you need that break you’ve been talking about dear. I’m handling your leave already so you don’t need to bother to come to the office. Enjoy your trip. And call me when you get there. Ciao”.

I stood dumbfounded!
How could someone be so sweet? If it was 99% of the men I knew, for such a gesture, they would expect plenty payment in kind. I dialed Ossy’s number but he cut the call and I guessed he was in his meeting already. I checked the flight details. I had only 3hrs to get to the airport. I hummed a tune as I packed up, wondering where in the heavens men like Ossy were made. Maybe I’d give him a chance when I got back from this trip...

naijaboiy: Some women really deserve such...
Following by the way

i see u mates....d story continues..

EPISODE 5

...When I turned, Femi had stood up to tower above me, and I found myself searching desperately for something to say. He relished the effect he was having on me and something warned me that this was not the sweet Femi of yesteryears; that he had grown harder and wiser in the ways of the world. Then he smiled and said, “I have missed you Oyin. Ten years, and I’m still single, still without a woman because I carried you into every relationship I had.” What! Alleluia. Somebody say glory! Let the angels proclaim! His words were music to my ears. I was expecting harsh words, but he had opened up to me like this. Oh, I’m gonna make it up to you Femi, I’m going to meet your every need, be your every comfort and we will never be apart again.
I covered the distance between us in a single stride and held him in my arms (I’m proactive ). “Oh God,” I cooed to him, “I’ve missed you so much. I’m still single too (had to let him know quickly that I was available too oh), no one else could do, no one else could take your place, absolutely no one. I’m so sorry for…” He placed a finger on my lips and said “shhhh. Don’t even bring that up, it’s the past and it’s forgotten. I’m just glad you can still be mine.” I was about to die and go into the ninth heaven. This was too good to be true, I was reeling with happiness, I felt like singing a hymn, oh joy eternal. I was already seeing aso ebi, white wedding dress and a cross continental crisscrossing trip for the honeymoon. I even mentally called myself Oyin Tosh, to see how it would sound. It sounded as Behind as my current name. Perfect! By the time Hot Pastor came back in, we had already exchanged the following
Phone numbers
BB Pins
My House Address and the Hotel he was staying
A kiss.
He walked me to my car and I left floating on air. On my way back home, a keke napep brushed my car, and the guy had already come down and was prostrating and begging. But no keke napep was stealing my joy. I just went back into my car and drove off, shebi the scratch was kuku very small.

Toke came by and thankfully brought Shoprite bread so I didn’t have to warm anything. We just did the bread with butter and juice. I downloaded the day’s event for her. “The same Femi that mumutised for u?” Toke asked. “You are just a foolish child, en you this Toke for bringing that up. You wan cry pass the person wey e dey pain?”
Just in case you are wondering what I’m talking about, let me explain. Mumutising is the art of you being a mumu for your partner. I have a theory that everyone mumutises at least once in life (some people do it severally, some learn sharply and never mumutise again ever, the key phrase is ‘at least once’). So I was the partner Femi mumutised with. Anyways, back to my current convo with Toke.

“Did you take any pictures with him, I wonder how he looks these days,” she said. I checked his DP on BBM. Not his picture. Toke entered espionage mode. “Shebi he’s a bestselling author. Let’s Google him. We should see some recent pictures”. I sharply powered up my laptop and did just that. Yes there were pictures o, plenty. He was really big outside Naija. There were pictures of him with celebs from all around the world. Nia Long, Tyra Banks, Serena Williams, Djimon Honsou, and many more. And he had access to all these hot hot celebs and he had come back to me. Right then, I felt like I was the fairest of them all, omo toh quality gaan. “Hmm, Oyin, this all seems too good to be true o. Hope there is nothing wrong with this guy. Abi he is gay ni”. Sparks flew in my eyes, “What kind of talk is that now? So something must be wrong with him for him to come to me? If you want to abuse me, say it plainly now, don’t use style.” Toke was taken aback by my outburst “Haba, cool down now. I’m just talking as your girl. I have to have your back and in my experience, once it seems too good to be true, it probably is.” “Okay o,” I said rolling my eyes, “I have heard you.”

We relaxed to our meal while watching American Idol. We were so engrossed in the gist and TV that I didn’t notice my BB blinking until American Idol was over. A big smile came to my face when I saw who it was. Femi. He had sent a voice note some forty minutes earlier. It went something like this “Hey babe, hope you still like wearing those lovely gowns. I’ll come by to pick you up at seven for dinner. Make me drop dead when I see you, ciao.”
Toke took the phone and played it over and over again, singing Banky W’s Omoge you too much as she did. That girl was just so silly. I checked the time. It was five thirty. Ninety long minutes before my future husband came to take me out. Mr. X, Kalu and the rest of their likes seemed like a distant past now.

Dressing me up for the date required two hands o, no be small matter. We spent thirty minutes on the internet before we picked out a look (as the bobo is used to celebs, make me sef try now) and then systematically went about transforming me into that look. By the time we were done, Toke was sweating and I was dazzling. She wasn’t going home anyways, she had clothes in her car and would just go to work from mine tomorrow. I was thankful it was a Sunday, because the housecleaner came this afternoon, the house was looking spick and sparkle. By the time we were done with preparations, it was five minutes to seven. Ten minutes later, his call came through. “I’m turning into your estate, so I’ll be at your house shortly.” “Alright boo, I’m dressed up and ready”, I replied and hung up.
Moments later, the doorbell rang. Toke went to get the door for me, while I went into the room to take one last look at myself before letting him see me. When Toke’s bbm that he was seated came in, I took a breath and stepped out. I checked for his reaction. I could tell he liked what he saw. I went to the door and opened it and struck a sexy pose “shall we? Or would you rather spend the evening looking at me?” He laughed as he stood up “that wouldn’t be such a bad idea you know?” He covered the distance between us in two strides and had his arms around me in the same movement “as tempting as that prospect is, I have something special planned for this evening, so we should get going.” Special something, something special. The words rolled in my mind and I could see him on one knee in a restaurant proposing to me tonight. I couldn’t wait.

We got to the place somewhere in Phase 1 and he led me through the restaurant, up some stairs and then to an open roof with a table for two already set, complete candles lit. The picture of him proposing to me in my head was now in high definition and 3D. We had a lovely three course meal, and talked about beautiful things, his life, my life (the good, wifely parts o, no Mr. X). We even talked about things like number of kids, type of bedroom furnishings and co. Every time his hand went below the table, I expected it to come up with a ring.
After the meal, he held my hands and looked into my eyes. I was sure this was the moment, the climax. First he asked me if I enjoyed the meal. I nodded, cat got my tongue. I could hear the drum rolls now, he would do it any moment from now.
Then he hit me with the bombshell. “You know the saying ‘Revenge is best served cold’”, he said with a twisted, sardonic smile. “So you dey find readymade husband. Your father!” he said, opening his palms at me. Then he stood up and left me there, sitting transfixed to my chair. The shock kept me pinned to the chair, motionless and speechless for some minutes. Then I called Toke “Please come and pick me up”...

EPISODE 4

...I didn’t go anywhere on Saturday, the activities of the night before had worn me out. On depressing occasions like that, I get the inspiration to write poetry. Yes, Oyin is a poet. One of these days, if you guys ask me enough, I’ll read some of my poems to you. So the day dragged on until evening when my girls came over. Gloria and I reached a compromise. I did get a guy as hot as Kalu’s Koikoi, so I could claim the iPad. But the guy turned out to be a gigolo(ewww) so she could claim my shoes. So I wasn’t going to get the iPad, as long as she didn’t come within a one meter radius of my shoes (like that would happen in this lifetime and beyond). They basically did what they came for – Eat my food, drink my wine, scatter my house, talk about men, abuse men, long for men, and leave with my stuff. And oh yes, Gloria left with my shoes. See en, people that come to your house and do all the things I listed above are your true closest friends. I went to bed with my spirit considerably lifted when my friends had left. The alcohol of course helped a little. Okay, more than a little, wink wink.
I went to bed after watching some episodes of Spartacus Blood and Sand. I don’t know why, but I have a thing for that series. One of my favorite Naija songs right now even references it “Jide Kosoko, shay o le fi shay Spartacus, Jor oooo”, lmao!

I woke up on Sunday morning with a sense of expectation. I always feel really close to God on Sundays and I excitedly went about getting prepared for church. Light breakfast of toast and tea. Then it was time to get dressed for church. Now you might say I’m vain, but if you go to my church, you had better reeeeaaallly get dressed for church. The hottest, the latest, the sharpest, the cream de la cream of my cream axis attended my church. And you never know if you’ll meet the one so as a scout, I had to be prepared. Anyways, where better to meet him than church. So I put on a Tiffany Amber dress and a pair of Prada shoes and Prada bag to match and completed the look with a scarf and sunshades. I decided to do the cloudy eyed eyeshadow I saw on the style network during the week and did the Angelina Jolie lipstick thingy. I took a look at my creation in the mirror and I said like the Lord, it is good, alleluia.

Church service was going well and I was in the spirit, while surveying the pews for any particularly husbandable man (a good hunter is always alert). Then the senior pastor of our church (who I wouldn’t have minded marrying, he’s much too much) came up to welcome first timers. Time for the handshakes and plastic church smiles to come out. “I want to specially recognize a dear friend of my family,” Hot Pastor was saying. “He is a multiple award winning and bestselling author, and his last book, The Epic, is currently being adapted into a movie in Hollywood. Please join me in welcoming my brother from another mother, Femi Tosh.” I scrambled to look in the direction where Hot Pastor’s friend was standing up from. And then I saw him. Tosh was just the short form for Omotosho. Femi Omotosho. Oh my God. My heart did multiple flips upon seeing him, but I was not seated close enough to him to give him a handshake or smile.

Before you start thinking I’m some desperado who wants to donate smiles and handshake and flipping hearts to every man that is a visitor in my church, let me give you a short history on Femi Omotosho. Fresh from my Masters in my mid twenties, I met him. Femi was every lady’s dream, suave dresser, smooth talker and held down a bank job. But that was before you started dating him oh. You discovered then that he was from a poor background, all his money went into supporting his family and pursuing his dreams. Nothing for you to even be a babe. It was a hard pill for me to swallow but I tried to stick with Femi. Back then, I didn’t have the high paying job I have now, so I depended on Femi, but as he was so focused on family and dreams, he couldn’t give me the trips around the world, and all the nice things a fine girl like me required. So I left him. Okay, let me be truthful, I threw tantrums, said all sorts of cruel things to him and about him and then left him. Barely a year after I left him, his first book won the NLNG award and he got two hundred thousand dollars. The rest is history, he left the country, won more awards, and became a part of my past I regretted and forgot. Now, having him in my church, looking so smashing, successful and every woman’s dream brought all the regrets I had been trying to bury to the surface. I did a quick scan of his left hand, no ring. So he wasn’t married. I had to find a way to meet him at the end of the service.
For the rest of the service, I heard nothing. My mind was in a far away place, imagining what could have been with him. I’d be travelling the world now, going for Hollywood events and probably nursing a little Femi now. The service seemed to last an eternity, it took so long to end. When it was announcement time and the deacon who liked the sound of his own voice over the sound system climbed the stage, I let out a few words I hoped no resident angels in our church heard. He droned for longer than he should until a not so hot pastor came to stand beside him. He got the cue and rounded off his droning. If eyes could kill en, the deacon would have fallen dead with the way I looked at him. All the while, my eyes never left where Femi was (yes, I can look at two places at the same time ).

Service finally ended and I saw ushers leading Femi towards Hot Pastor’s office. By the time I got there, he had already gone into the office. I contemplated waiting for him to come out, but that would be too easy to see through. Femi has a way with words, and knowing him, he would make me look very silly right there (not like he didn’t have a right to sha). Thankfully, I was Hot Pastor’s personal convert so I had access to his office. I went through the mill of waiting faithful. The ushers who looked more like the bouncers I saw at Marquee on Friday night knew me and let me go in. I knocked on Hot Pastor’s door and his rich voice came from inside the room “Please come in”. I took a deep breath and muttered under my breath “here goes nothing” and then opened the big door.
He was seated facing the pastor, with his back towards the door so he didn’t see me come in. I was glad about that because I had the time to gather myself together. Hot Pastor got up and came round his desk to hug me “Miss Clegg,” he was saying “it’s been a while.” Femi’s eyes followed Hot Pastor around and then fell on me. He looked shocked “Oyin!” he exclaimed.
Hot Pastor looked from him to me and then back “you know each other?” “Very well,” Femi responded with meaning. You know what knowing a woman means in bible terms. My mind went back to when Femi knew me. I said with more calmness than I felt “Long time no see Femi, how have you been?” “Very well, thank you. And I don’t need to ask how you’ve been, my eyes tell me,” he responded. Hot Pastor clapped me on the back playfully, “small world”, he said “Femi is like a brother.” Either Hot Pastor was blind or he chose to ignore the tension that was in the room. He continued “I need to quickly address the deacons; I’ll leave you two to catch up on old times. I’m sure there’ll be loads to talk about while I’m gone”. He was leaving me alone with Femi. This was what I wanted, but a fear crept into my heart. What would Femi say to me when we were alone? I felt like running after Hot Pastor, as he shut the door behind him....

Sheenor: Wow!....find this interesting...will be following for real...waiting patiently for the remain part....thumbs up at op..

Thanks Mate.....

EPISODE 3
...Gloria sent me a bbm that they were leaving The Marquee for Aura. It read “Off to Aura. Enjoy en, and be ready to spill all the details. You’ve gotten the iPad, but I’ll still get dem shoes. #bbdevilsmiley#­”. Ha! I was so keeping my shoes in some bank vault. But I knew it was an effort in futility, cos if Gloria wanted them, she would organize a bank heist to get them. So I was going to tow the line of making available to her anytime she needed them, so that I didn’t lose the shoes altogether.
Anyways, back to the present. I was enjoying all the shaking what my mama gave me and movement with Mr. X. Men, the guy could really move and he had a way of working me into the most desirable positions for body melding dancing.
The d-jay had done a good job of whipping the whole club into a frenzy and now we were getting doses of Terry G and all the Naija ginger movement boys. Visions of the expertise with which he could handle my body raced through my mind and I worked fervently hard to make sure I gave him enough reason to want to. Kalu and Koikoi could go and hug a transformer for all I cared. After what seemed like hours of rollercoaster dancing, he finally put his arms firmly around me and led me towards the hall, and then the exit. Hmmm, a man that was sure of himself and took what he wanted. I was liking Mr. X more and more. In the elevator ride down, I could feel his eyes racing all over my body with intensity and his hands went into his pocket. I could guess what he was trying to hide and I was glad I was having that effect on him.
You know the saying that goes “We guess some people are foolish when they keep quiet, but they remove all doubt the moment they open their mouths”? I’m sure he had heard the saying before and made that his watchword. When we got downstairs, he spoke “Aunty, before I go on and enter the car park with you, we need to discuss price.” That’s how I would have said it. This is actually how he said it “Haunty, before Hi go Hon Hand Henter the car park with you, we need to dilscuss price”. Oh my God! He sounded like he was acting out a scene from Jennifer. That must be the worst H factor I’ve ever heard. And to cap it all, he thought I was a call girl. Oyin omalicha, you have suffered in this your life. See en, I can live with most things, but a man with an H factor is just a no no, a total turn off. Calmly, I answered “I’m not up for sale. There’s no need to discuss a price for anything.” He smiled, and looking at his face now, I wondered what I was attracted to in the first place (bad belle on my part o, he is damn fine). “Madam, I was not talking about price for taking you home. I’m talking about the price you have to pay for me going home with you and servicing you for the night. I thought you knew the way things are now.”
I nearly died where I was standing. He was a gigolo. This nonsense man finished looking at me and I looked like someone who could not get a man without paying for one. A thousand concentrated Yoruba curses raced into my head, but I refused to say a word. I just turned and began walking away when he grabbed me by the arm. “You can’t just go like that now, I gave you a good part of my night when I could have been pursuing other clients. You have to settle me.” I couldn’t believe what was happening. I don’t know which shocked me more, what he was saying, or the fact that he dared to lay his hands on me (forget that I had been dreaming of having those hands on discreet parts of my anatomy for most of the night). Those curses I had done well to keep sealed away came rushing out and the Yoruba girl in me shot to the surface “Oloshi, oloriburuku, e.t.c.” He held me menacingly and I was sure he was going to hurt me. I was in serious trouble.
Be nice to people, okay, cos you never know when they will come in handy. The guys that parked our cars at the Marquee who knew me well (I am generous, wink wink) came to my rescue. When Mr. X saw that he was outnumbered, he stepped away, waving a finger at me as he backed away and then pruned himself and went back into the club.
“When I see you with am, I been dey wonder o”, one of them was saying to me. “She no sabi their type”, another one said. “Na true, she no be like the type wey dey use those dirty boys,” a third chipped in. They followed me to my car, saying they wanted to make sure I was safe. But I understood them well, so I parted with one thousand naira as I entered the car amid chants of “madam the madam”. I had had enough for the night. All I wanted to do was get home, scrub myself clean of all the events of the night and curl up in bed. I’m tired of this Lagos sef. I think I need a vacation, Miami, beaches and bikinis. I sent Toke a voice note with the gist of Mr. X and headed for home. I knew she would probably not see and listen to it till morning and that was fine by me. I was not in the mood to talk to anyone tonight...

Watch out for Episode 4....

EPISODE 2
...I quickly gathered myself together and smiled very charmingly, hoping to disarm him. “Hi Kalu”, I said. I was expecting him to go into a series of questions accusing me of lying to him and all, when she came up to him. Inside my inner mind, green envy began to sprout. Her skin was clear like she had someone following her around photoshoping her with each step she took. Abeg, when I see person wey pass me, I admit it. The girl was the kind that entered a room and all the men in the room stopped seeing every other girl in the room and became puppies all around her. She was addressing Kalu now, “Boo, I told you to hold up, I just had to say hi to my friend now”. The confirmation that Koikoi (yes, I gave her a name) was with Kalu and they were obviously intimate made the green monster in my heart leap. I felt a strong urge to punch him in the face, but I respected myself. Why anyway? What claim did I really have to Kalu?

The saying that something becomes more desirable when it’s not yours hit me square in the face. It was even more painful when I realized I was just “one of the options” Kalu had for the night. Then it dawned on me; Kalu had done the phone select, and I was one of the options that didn’t work for that Friday night. The saying, “Do unto others as you would have done unto you” is true oh, cos now that I was on the receiving end, e pain me die.

Kalu quickly did the introductions, and I could see a look in his eyes I suspected was gloating. “Oyin Clegg, my friend,” he said pointing at me while facing her and then turning to face me, he said with meaning “My special friend, Tara Cole”. Ha! Even her name was finer than my own. My night was firmly on the path of depression. They breezed past us towards the spiral steps leading to the elevator, as Kalu said coolly “Enjoy your night girls, and if you’re having any trouble enjoying yours, we’d be glad to help.”
Once they were out of earshot, Toke began laughing stupidly. “Is that the ‘clingy’ Kalu?” she asked sarcastically. “If you don’t leave me en, I will deal with you. Man or no man, we’re grooving tonight and that’s it. I can get a man in this club as easily as Kalu could get another woman jor”. Trust my friends to latch in on something like that. Gloria raised her eyebrow “You get the iPad 3 Alvin is sending next week if you can get someone as hot as the girl Kalu had with him”. I decided to play stupid “Are you suggesting I swing the other way and get a girl instead of a man?” Gloria slapped my butt playfully “You are just an ode. I meant a man with the same degree of hotness as that girl.” I gave it a brief thought. “Okay, it’s a deal. I’ll have to ditch you girls at some point sha o.” We went through the hall to the open balcony and then chose our seats carefully. If you were a girl and hunting, the best place to seat was right in front of the bar. From there, you could see the door and all that came through. The big boys didn’t stay inside the packed hall, they came to the balcony to lounge. So any man worth the while of a Lekki big girl like me would be coming through this door. You could also see if he was in company of some Koikoi kinda girl or alone. Plus seating at the bar meant you could see the ones that had come in before you if they came to order their drinks. You could also gauge them by the size of the bills they came to pay for their drinks from where you sat. So we took the seat.
We were seated, chatting and waiting for our drinks, when it dawned on me.

“Gloria, mad babe. You didn’t say what you would be having if I didn’t win the wager, (Like that could happen with Her Royal Hotness like me).” Gloria smiled like a wolf. “Those your Jimmy Choo shoes”. “Ole,” I shouted. “You have been coveting those shoes since the first day you saw them. Lai lai.” My BB vibrated and I picked it from the table to check the message that had come in at that time of the night. It was Kalu gloating, the eran nme. “I hope the hen night is going very well at your house? Hope y’all are going gingi. #bbmrollingonth­efloo­rlaughing­ smiley.” Then he sent a picture of himself and koikoi kissing passionately in his car with the caption “see what you’re missing”. I was so angry I dumped the BB with a thud. My friends were already curious and dove for my BB without asking. They quickly scrolled through the message and began hissing “this guy is a monkey, this guy is a cow, this guy is (insert any animal name of your choice here)”. While they were engrossed in the BB, we all indulged in calling Kalu all sorts of names. The drinks began to flow and the gist became loser and loser.

Thankfully, I could talk and hunt at the same time. Else I would have missed him. Lord have mercy on your daughter, but if I was Eve and he was the apple, I’d eat him up over and over again and damn every consequence. He was fiiiiiiiiiine. If he passed me too closely I’d begin to breathe heavily. Clean shaven face under a clean shaven head just like I liked them. He was taller than everyone else around him and had chosen to wear a t-shirt that flaunted his muscles. I didn’t mind o, if he got em, he should flaunt em. He reeked of hotness and sensuality and I was hoping I wasn’t drooling now. My friends followed my eyes as did every other set of female eyes there and I could see the thoughts running through their heads were more impure than mine. “If I could hear your thoughts now, I’m sure I’d send you straight to have your insides washed with bleach.” We all laughed and then I continued “I’m sure we all agree that he fits the bill for Gloria and I’s wager.” They both nodded. “Na wa o, he got your tongues? Anyways,” I said, standing up and checking everything to make sure the packaging was done right “iPad 3, here I come!” I did a test shake of the booty “How am I doing back there,” I asked. Toke slapped my butt and said “silly girl. Get out of here and don’t come back empty handed.

I had not taken three steps away from my friends when I felt him (I didn’t need to see him oh, as a hunter that I am, I don’t rely on only my sense of sight). I turned to him and smiled my most sexy smile and cooed “Hello, can we dance?” He didn’t say a word. Hmmm. The cool, few words type. Me likey! He just walked up to me and put his arms around me as if he had possessed me for a long time. I snuggled and shot a glance back at Toke and Gloria. They looked on, wide-eyed. He led me to a corner where there were no tables and as if on cue, the d-jay began to play Waje’s “Can I be your girl for a minute”. The whining and grinding was something else. And could the dude move. I asked if I could take a picture. He nodded yes. I put my booty outrageously close to his crotch and took a picture with my BB. I sent the picture first to Gloria with the caption “One iPad 3 coming up.” Then I sent the same picture to Kalu with the caption, “Missing what?”...

Got it from a friend's Wall,quite interesting....
Enjoy....

EPISODE 1
My name is Oyinkasola Olaitan Clegg. I am a lady. I am 35. I am single. And there is absolutely nothing wrong with me. But I have had to say this either verbally or otherwise to so many people in the course of the last few years that sometimes I begin to wonder if there’s really nothing wrong with me. Don’t get me wrong, they don’t come and tell me “you are not married Oyin, something must be wrong with you” no, they would never do that. But say it, they did, loud and clear.
Let me not bore you with those parts of my life. As a background, I am a good looking Yoruba girl, well shaped the way African men like their women, with flesh in the right places. I have a first degree from the University of Lagos and a Masters Degree from the University College, London. I am Behind, fresh and a high flyer. I even have the dream job, a CSR person in an oil firm. And I like to live life to its fullest. These are the stories of my encounters, escapades and experiences as I search for the man who will leave his family and cleave to me. Who will love me forever. Who will make my life eternal bliss. Okay, okay, okay, I am doing it again. I tend to project the stories I read into life. Never mind, I am old enough to know that stories are just that, stories.

Its Friday night. And when you say that in Lagos social circles, it could only mean one thing; ditch the suits and let the short dresses, body hugging jeans and bust enhancing tops come forth. And so I called up my friends Toke and Gloria and we agreed to meet up at Mega Plaza to start the night with some chips and seafood. I shutdown at five O Clock and drove straight home to my apartment in Carlton Gate Estate in Lekki. Inside the house, I flopped into my couch and turned on my companion at home, my TV. Now pardon me, but I wonder how life must have been before the TV. If I was lost on an island and I could take only one item along, it had to be either my BB or my TV (see how we have a knack for reducing things to two letter words). As I settled in to rest in reserve for the long night ahead, my phone rang. I glanced at the screen to confirm who it was. It was just Kalu. I was hoping it would be somebody else. I had been ignoring bb messages from him all day and I guess he calculated I’d be off work now and decided to call.

Okay, a little background on him. I am 35 and single (I know I’ve said it before but I need to re-emphasize) so when I really need to get some and there’s no serious person around, I do the phone select. Here’s how it’s done. You pick your phone and scroll through your contacts list and eliminate men based on certain criteria. What you want is a no strings attached person who will not interpret a night together as an invitation to a long term relationship. So you cancel out the fervent toasters, the guys who have been having settling down conversations with you (considering you didn’t consider them settling down material and latch on all the while you’ve been having such conversations) and other such over-serious people. By now, you’ve narrowed the list down. Then you eliminate those who are in places so far it requires too much effort to see. I stay in Lekki, so if you stay in places like Ipaja, Ikorodu and the likes, I ex you from the list. Now I have a probable list. Then I go into the fineries of history together, attraction and settle on a few options. I then put a call through to the best option of the lot and drop a few hints. If he catches on, game on. If he doesn’t, I round the conversation off and move on to the next until I hit jackpot. This was the rigorous screening process I had put Kalu through, but we get wrong sometimes. I was very wrong with Kalu. After the night together (that’s a story for another day), he became all he wasn’t meant to be. Clingy, intrusive and needy.

Anyways, back to the present. I picked the call and the conversation went something like this
Kalu: Hey Princess
Me: Kalu, whatsup (I called him his name, he should get the message)
Kalu: You haven’t responded to my messages all day
Me: I’ve had a full day.
Kalu: But you read all the messages, it said R here. You could have sent a small message. Anyways, you said had, so your workday is over. Are you going out?
Me: (Warning bells, anything I say now will have Kalu trying to be a part of whatever plans) Yes. I’m home now. No I’m not going out, I have a wedding tomorrow and want to rest
Kalu: Okay, I’ll buy dinner and come over.
Me: (Alarm bells) Thanks for the offer Kalu, but the girls are using my pad for a Hen night for the bride to be.
Kalu: (sighs). Okay, I’ll see you after the wedding tomorrow.
Me: Call me before heading o.
Kalu: Goodnight love
Me: Ciao.
Whew. That was close. Quick thinking, quick lying saved the day. Now to rest and get ready for the night out.

At 9:45, I was ready to go out. I was hot, hot, hot. In fact, I was so hot, I was burnt and roasted, lol. I said the spinster’s prayer and stepped out of the house. I hooked up with my girls at Mega Plaza. If you haven’t tried the chips and sea food there, then you are a weist! We shared two plates and by then, it was eleven O clock. We touched up and smiled past the bouncers, very glad with the effect we saw our collective hotness was having (you notice babes look finer as a group than alone)
We took the elevator and then the small flight of stairs up into The Marquee. Lagos sha. People that were at work complaining of tiredness a few hours ago at work were here grooving away. As I was stepping in, someone bumped into me on his way out. I was about to give the person “bad eye” when our eyes met. I felt like entering the ground.
It was Kalu!!!