.

Your research is half-baked, and confusing. You should have said "only six teams have won the English Top Flight League since it became known as The Premier League in 1991/92. In its old format and name, many teams have won it.

May God have mercy on this nation. Is our politics still about serving people? There was a Nigeria where all was smooth and great. We will get there again...soon.

Wow! It can really be frustrating...of loved ones are not always around.

May God keep watch over us all

It is a coy to dupe people really. It can be so frustrating. Your phone go beep for message and you go think sey na Bank Alert (lol), only to find out sey na one trash from these unrepentant telecommunication networks. Mtcheeew! I don send STOP to 2442 tire. If another one dey, tell me.

jedaii:

there any possibility that if i renew it will still run? as per I av been hearing things like they have reduced the 20gb to 200mb..
ma major problem is me renewing and still seeing ma gb

A friend of mine tried it but this is what he got:

"Dear Customer, your current Data Balance is 253GB. Your stupidity will expire on 15/6/2095."

Her moves to reducing the unnecessary financial burden and reforming the nation's economy is highly applaudable. I think it's high time most African Leaders stopped living in utopia: expensive and extravagant lifestyles and foolish policies by African Leaders must be discouraged. Kudos to her...and I hope our 'ogas' in this country follow this example. Let the change begin with the leaders.

However, she has paid, she will pay and will still be paying dearly for becoming "world's powers" puppet. They will dictate her every move and micro-manage her policy. Notice where Mitchell said he "hopes she consults" before making decisions? That's a disaster waiting to happen! She has already danced or is dancing to their tune by considering "lifting the ban on homosexuality."

"There is a way which seemeth right unto man, but the end thereof is the way of death."

There are bunch of hypocrites here. A man named his dog, his dog for that matter, a name he wishes to, and he was detained. PMB is not the only man in Nigeria with the name, there are other people in this country with the name.

Now look at country the whole world look at as the most powerful and influential nation in the world. Has any arrest being made? Absolutely not! Pets have been named with names of world influential people. Nobody cried.

I am not in support of public ridicule of leaders. They should be respected and dignified. However, if someone somewhere decided to name his pet whatever name he wants, what's the problem with that? He did not call his dog President Mohammed Buhari; he just simply called it Buhari - which can be ordinarily ordinary. What's the crime in that?

This country really needs divine intervention!

Op abeg, correct your topic: It is began, not begans. It is begin, not begins.

Mourinho will be smiling presently. How he successfully transformed a player who should have developed the technically genius he flashed occasionally when given the opportunity to by now. But Mourinho saw something else.

Off Topic:

I think Mikel should have been at par with the likes of Messi, Ronaldo et al, technical-wise. He would have transcended the sport. I so much believed in his technically abilities, which he still flashes.

I became unnecessarily uneasy. It was as if Binta came only to tickle my fancy...and that she did very well... I was wowed! In fact, I began regretting all those periods I sidelined her for somewhat unreasonable reason. God works in mysterious ways; at least, she's an example of such mystery of God. A thought came to my mind as I walked back to my apartment, "Boy, just forget the past and crack on with this lady." She's worth my attention. Ok. Let's see how it goes.

Sunday came as normal and unlike the previous distant greetings, we hugged briefly after Church service and went for different departmental meetings. I finished my meeting before she does but when I checked on her, I was told she's already gone.

Me: Why?

A Sister: She said she wanted to fix her hair.

Me: Oh! There you go. Thanks.

Women and their Sunday hair fixing sef. Mtcheewww. I was a bit sad cos I thought I could make use of her drama again. Well, I took solace from the obvious fact that in less than 24 hrs, we'll see each other in the office. I went home quickly to prepare for the following day's work as usual. It's funny really how we take seriously our work places than church. Lol. I was never in hurry to go to church; but work? Dem never born me. This "daily bread" thing no be joke ooo. I am not saying that our commitment to our various work places should be more than our various places of worship (church or mosque). Let's try to balance things up: attach same priority and relevance to both.

Monday Morning...

I came to office that morning excited. Reason? Well, maybe because of Binta's weekend hangover. I was all smiles to the extent that my friends noticed.

"Femi what's up? You're all smiles. You win lottery?"

Me: Really? Nothing serious folks. I am aiite.

Our receptionist, Rashidat, also noticed my unusually glowing face.

Rashidat: Mr. Femi, ki lo n sele? (What's up).

Me: Ko is repete. Mo wa ok (Nothing much. I am fine).

Rashidat: Eyi ti e kan rerin yi l'agbara o... Laaro Monday? (This one that you're all smiles on a Monday morning is serious ooo).

Me: A ni ko is repete. (I am ok).

Lest I become a public spectacle, I changed my glowing facial expression. As I walked into my office, I noticed a big white envelope delicately placed in a very conspicuous place. When I asked the guy with whom I shared the office the source of the envelope, he played novice. Ladies and gentlemen, when I opened the envelope, I found a beautiful greeting card and a small piece of paper. The content of the small white paper will shock you. It reads:

"Although what you did was not gentlemanly, I salute your courage for being man enough to admit it. I like when men put aside their ego to admit they are wrong. Have a lovely week.
'Lola."

Jezz! Lola? What? After about two months? How did this get here? How did she know my office? In fact, who dropped this thing here? I rushed to the reception to inquire how the envelope made its way to my office.

Me: Rashida, did anyone ask of me before I came to office this morning?

Rashidat: No. What happened?

Me: I found this (I showed her) on my table and nobody seems to know how it got there!

Rashidat: Oh! I am so sorry Mr. Femi. A lady came here on Friday after you've gone home. She said she has something for you. I told her you've gone home already and she said she wanted the package to remain in the office. I gave it to one of the cleaners this morning to help me drop it on your table. I am sorry I should have told you immediately you walked in today but your unusual smile got me carried away. Apologies.

Me: It's ok. Thanks. I just wanna know how it came into my office.

I went back to my office confused. Lola sent me a card? The girl I've not seen since that Youth Programme? To make matters worse, I don't even have her number. I would've over-apologised if I had. Friends, it's been over five months since the incident that happened in church, and that is the exact time frame since I last saw her within and around the church. Talk about a sudden mood-swing. The thought of locating Lola occupied my mind as I worked throughout that day. I was so lost in that thought that I had forgotten completely about Binta and the euphoric bliss that happened over the weekend. Talk about a complicated complexity!

Two Hour Later...

Binta: I should be going Mr...

Me: Please call me Femi.

Binta: Hmmm... Officially or unofficially?

Me: Both.

Binta: What will people say at work?

Me: Let them say whatever they want.

Binta: Ok ooo. See you on Monday then.

As she made her way towards the exit, as if I was possessed, I grabbed her arm and gave her a warm hug. I held her so tightly and firmly. I made sure all the glory of her huge firm breast was all planted on my chest. She just stood still, shocked. When I noticed, I whispered into her ears,

"I am sorry for all the hurt. Let start afresh." Then I released her.

Binta: Ok. (She stretched her hands towards me). I am Binta Omokri.

Me: I am Femi Dawson (pseudonym).

Binta: It's nice meeting you.

Me: It's nice meeting you too.

Now, she started one thing that endeared her to me: spontaneous drama.

Binta: You look familiar...

Me: Excuse me?

Binta: You look like someone who works in my office.

Me: Really? And where is that?

Binta: I can't remember really.

Me: I see.

Binta: Sorry, how did I get here?

At this point I was a little confused. Is this for real or she's playing it up? Guys, you need to see the sincerity in her voice and on her face. I was lost.

Me: Sorry I don't understand.

Binta: I am asking you how I got into the place.

Before I could answer, sensing my confused state, she bursted into laughter.

Binta: Got ya! That's one of my act: drama!

Me: Oh! Weldone.

I felt a little relief knowing that she's only kidding. For my mind, I don dey fear ooo. Olorun ma je ka ri wahala (May we not experience trouble). If that kind of joke come become real, wetin I go tell people? A sane lady walked into my house only for her to walk out mentally unstable? God forbid!

We both laughed as I walked her to the door and the gate subsequently. She asked me to go back that she can find her way home. I obliged. It was a turn around chat with Binta cos from that day. We became close, very close and unnecessarily close...if you know what I mean.

Binta: The second reason is actually disturbing and hurting me. We work in the same office but we hardly talked. I heard you are one of those angry with the way I was 'favoured' back then, right?

Me: To be honest I was. I couldn't understand why someone will keep his/her job secured even when he/she is not fully qualified for it. Make no mistakes, I respect you and your personality but I just couldn't belly it back then.

Binta: No wonder!

Me: Excuse me?

Binta: No wonder the distance and the dislike.

Me: Don't go there please.

Binta: See, this is the reason I came. I need you to forget the past and let's move on.

Me: See Binta, I used to have issues with it but now, I am ok. I guess what will be will be, right.

Binta: Yes, you're right.

A part of me felt like throwing her outta my apartment but on a second thought, I think I rather enjoyed her presence. Her mental alertness coupled with her glowing skin and near-perfect physique was all the sedatives I needed to fill my emotionally starved mind. A soap was going on on TV (I couldn't remember the name now. It was one of the popular soaps that season). She was obviously interested and stayed glued to it. That diversion gave me the opportunity to really feasted on the ravaging beauty before me.

You know sometimes, hatred can make you lose sight of the most beautiful things of life. Binta is madly beautiful but my beef with her blinded my scavenging eyes. Young, elegant, educated, disciplined, soft-spoken... Mehn! Binta was (at that time) a total package. There is this adage in my language that, "if you purposely close your eyes when a wicked man passes by, a good man may pass by too before you open your eyes." That's the irony of life people. There is sense in non-sense. There is a good in every bad. Take our current economic situation for example. Whereas many are complaining about the current recession, thousands of people are building houses, buying cars, executing huge monetary projects. What I am saying is that, in whatever situation we find ourselves -good or bad- let us try to learn from it.

It was as if a veil was lifted off my eyes and all I could see is the glorious creature sitting on my sofa in front of me. Whatever 'hatred' I had nursed until that moment vanished. A new chapter was opened - a chapter of my soft spot for Binta. Whatever triggered such a feeling remains a mystery to me until today.

yoaking:
Where is Deola?

Lmao! Anyways, Deola is very fine. She's outta the country tho'. It's been about four months we spoke. Thanks for asking sir.

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Me: Please have a sit.

She sat down but her eyes were still fixed on me like someone expecting money from an ATM. She knew something was wrong, so she kept on asking...

Binta: I hope is well sir? I noticed your looks when you opened the gate and I've never seen you like that before. Did I come at the wrong time? Please tell me.

Me: Pardon my sudden facial change. It's nothing really everything is fine, trust me.

Binta: Hmmm. Trust you? Are you sure?

Me: I am. What can I offer you please?

Binta: I am fine sir.

Me: Offence No. 1. Nobody turns down my offer. Whether you're fine before you came here is irrelevant. What I offer, you must accept.

Binta: (Laughs out) Really? That's pretty much like a decree from a military general.

Me: That you've observed correctly. I am a general, and you're in my barracks. So, once again, what can I offer you?

Binta: Before you lock me up in your guard room, anything you can offer, your excellency, will be accepted by me!

Me: That's more like it...

We both laughed as I made my way to the fridge. I got her a chilled Lemon Juice I had kept in the fridge for days. After serving her a cup, I sat on the sofa opposite her. I watched as she slowly and almost flawlessly, sipped her drink. I observed as the flood of the juice gently rushed down her throat. Her lips carefully stationed on the tip of the cup so that she won't lose her touch.

Deep inside my heart I was struggling. I have waved goodbye to that part of me that only cared about sex. In my eyes, she appeared naked. As if I've got me the all-seeing-piercing-see-through eyes, I imagined how her breast would look like, the colour of her pants, and the sacredness of the candy strapped between her legs. I already see myself smooching her, fighting to take off her dress. I was lost in this thought until the ring tone from my phone saved me...

Binta: Your phone is ringing...

Me: Oh, yes. Thanks.

It was a friend. He asked me some work related questions which I quickly answered and ended the call. I quickly wanted to get back to my desire-fed thought of getting laid by Binta.

Binta: Are you sure everything is all right?

Me: Why?

Binta: You've been overtly quiet since I came in, coupled with the sudden change of your looks at the gate. You know you can tell me if anything is the matter. Remember, a problem shared is half-solved!

Like for real? Baby you've no idea. I wish you have a damn clue that you're the problem right now. But like all men will do, you've got to fake the emotion, and lie...

Me: Oh, there is no problem. Everything is fine, trust me.

She sighed and returned to her drink. When she's had about a cup and half, I opened the conversation officially:

Me: So, what is it you wanna tell me that couldn't be said on the phone?

Binta: Hmmm. (She galloped the last fill in the cup, adjusted her sitting posture, and spoke)

Yes sir. Please don't be annoyed with my question. I should really have asked on the phone but I chose to come see you one on one to discuss. Also, I wanted to know your place better.

(For my mind, I don dey rage! Wetin? You better not be playing with me now)...

My question sir is, we've known each other for almost two years now but you've not be talking to me until recently. I want to know why and probably apologise if I've wronged you.

Me: Seriously is that the reason you're here?

Binta: Actually, one of the reasons.

Me: Oh, you mean there are plenty of reasons?

Binta: Just two actually.

Me: Tell me the second reason too so I can respond all together.

Binta: No sir, one step at a time.

Me: Oh, silly me. Apologies.

Binta: There is no need for that sir. So, tell me.

Me: Well, you know, I don't wanna be close unnecessarily to the opposite sex in the church and I...

Binta: (Cuts in) But I've seen you talked to other girls in the church. You laughed with them and moved with them...

*Is someone sensing jealousy here?*

Me: Oh, really?

Binta: Yes. I've seen you on many occasions.

Me: Well, I am sorry if I've disregarded you in the past. I don't mean to. My reasons for doing that are genuine. I am sorry if I've not been par at it.

Binta: You still have not answered my question.

Me: Excuse me?

Binta: Why did you disregard me. I mean, I greet you any day we see in church but received little or no response. In fact, there was a day you came to church for a youth programme and after which it started raining. I gave up my umbrella so you could get home without being drenched by the rain while I had to stay back in the church and wait until the rain subsides.

Me: I didn't remember that.

Binta: Of course you won't, cos I didn't give it to you directly. I sent someone to.

Me: I am really sorry. I've always respected ladies. Forgive my ungentlemanly behaviour.

Binta: Hmmmm. It's ok. Apology accepted.

Me: So, what's the second reason?

What can I say? A year on! A lot has happened felas that my hands cannot fully express. All I can say is, 'E ma binu', 'I am sorry'. I made a promise, so let me try and fulfil it. Sincere apologies to all my readers. Being married is not easy ooo.

Me: Hold on.

One last check on everything: tables, sofas, the floor... All neat and sparkling. I felt a rushing joy within myself. First impression matters a lot. So, in that confidence, I walked gallantly, albeit, slowly, to go fetch Binta. A part of me wanted this meeting done as quickly as possible while the old player in me reminded me of my impeccable predatory ability. I was lost in this latter thought and all smile when I flung open the gate. What my eyes saw that day was beyond words. I never expected it; no, not from Binta!

Binta was in a blue jean skirt, sapped by a blue-black leggings. Her white body-hug t-shirt did one thing only - it pushes out her well-rounded breast, giving me a clear view of the shape and contours of her breast. She had a purple beret on and her lips was smashed with a light red lip gloss. To finish the kill, she had a little cute glass on. She looked completely different from the Binta I used to know. Right there in my mind, I know something is really wrong...and my ever-ready, busy-body, mood-swinging notorious 3rd-leg was almost in full attention!

Binta: Good morning sir...

Her voice sounded like the kind of repetitive echo one hears in a dream. My eyes were all fixed on her, surveying the glorious presence of an angelic being in front of me. She greeted me again before I could respond...and I think she knew something was wrong.

Me: Morning sister. How are you?

Binta: I am fine. (She looked straight into my eyes probing for answers that I don't have...) Is everything alright?

Me: (stuttering) Yes, everything is fine. Please come in..

I led her into my DEN. At this point people, I really don't know what I am doing. I just walked it like a bull being led to slaughter. Whatever defence mechanism I had set up earlier flew out the window. Whatever resistance I had built crumbled. I just allowed things played out. It was a day I felt like my old self - a man waiting and lurking to devour the portable salad in front of me. I didn't plan for this... I didn't plan for this... I repeat, I didn't plan for this.

These people are just looking for ways to keep promoting immorality, unfaithfulness, pervertion and godlessness in a world that is already as corrupt as Sodom and Gomorrah, if not more, whom God wiped out off the surface of the earth.

A larger part of the world is still frowning at the adverse effect of GLBT Liberation, exemplified and legalized by the Obama-led United States. And now this? What more can be so pathetic as this; to imagine it is even a sin, let alone put it in motion.

My advice? Those who are faithful to the Lord, please, remain faithful. Those who are wayward and are pulling towards 'freedom' and 'civilization', please repent. Only catastrophic doom awaits all these pioneers of post-modernity ideology, an ideology that elevates human reasoning and relegates Godly wisdom.

Please android gurus, how can I root my Tecno N7? I need help like seriously. I've not done any rooting before but would love to try it out.

Email
themanishere2021@gmail.com. Thanks

8 Hours Earlier.

Twas a sunny Friday. I was at home... doing nothing of course except watching film. All plans were on hold for that day. The only thing on my mind was church and nothing more.

Binta had called me few hours earlier to ask if I am home. She claimed to have a very important message for me which must be delivered that same day unfailingly. At first I thought perhaps she's seen a vision about me. So I said to her,

Me: Yes, I am at home but I'll be leaving home later in the day for a programme in church. Why not tell me right away?

Binta: No, I can't. I must deliver it in person. I promise I won't stay long.

Me: Ok. I'll be expecting you.

Although I've stopped messing around with girls, but not completely. I still get booty calls once in a while; subject to my approval or disapproval though. So on this one, I wanted nothing: just come, deliver whatever it is you wanna deliver, and get the f**k outta my villa.

As custom demands, I tidied up: washed, cleansed and dusted everywhere. This is Binta's 3rd visit to my house. The previous visits were in company of my colleagues when I was on leave.

Binta's Biography:

Binta, as at when we first met, was a 21yr old fresh graduate. She was employed even before she went for her NYSC. It was one of those Wild Card Employment we all frowned at. Prior to her employment the HRM claimed he had about a thousand or more CVs on his table, and promised to give out employment on merit, not on promise or booty. But as it turned out, Binta's employment is as a result of the latter. In this we contiri, anything is posikant biko. #SillyHRM.

Casting the shadow over her employment aside, Binta is indeed very smart, brilliant, classy and, eventhough I struggled to admit this, she's very beautiful and extremely endowed - both before and behind. She commands everyone's attention when she walks.

She became friendly with my crew after her NYSC, cos, mysteriously, her job was kept for her. I was still hurting because of the condition of her employment. So, I reduced our contact to "Hi" and "Bye". She took a keen interest in me later on, asking my firends why I don't talk to her. One of my friends made her cry when he said,

"Binta, the truth is, Femi don't like you."

And yes, I don't like her. #NoApology.

Two years later, I let down my guard of 'hate', I started doing more than the hi and bye. She was shocked when I asked her,

Me: How was your night Binta?

She couldn't believe her ears. She looked around her thinking I was talking to someone else. She looked straight back at me in disbelief and stuttered,

Binta: Are...you..errrmmm, talking to ....me?

Me: Of course I am. Whoelse is here with us?

Binta: (Breathed heavily...and with a soft voice said,) Ok. I'm sorry. My night was good. How was yours too?

Me: Mine was good, but brief.

I could hear her heartbeat from where I was. She obviously was taken aback. She stammered all through our little conversation. I enjoyed the feeling mehn. There is nothing like keeping a girl on her toes. It's good to be in control as a man; but not all the time. Women have feelings too.

So, this is the girl that claims she's got a message for me. Hmmmm. When you give a rat a chance in your house, he builds an empire there in! This will be my first ever one-on-one meeting with Binta outside work, and in my DEN. Am I afraid? Of course I am. I know who I am; or rather, who I was becoming. Only God knows the kind of message a damsel like Binta is bringing to me that she couldn't tell me on phone. I made up my mind,

"Whatever message it is she's bringing, she will deliver it and leave at once, nothing more."

As if she was waiting for me to finalise my thoughtful plan, my phone rang,

Binta: I'm at your gate.

She noticed how delicately I sat on the chair. She gave me a worry look and wasted no time to ask,

Lola: Is everything all right?

Me: Oh yea... Everything is fine but...

Lola: But what?

Me: I need to apologise, to you.

Lola: Apologise to me? Why? For what?

Me: Errm... You see? But errrrmm... Never mind. It's nothing really.

Lola: No. No one opens his or her mouth to offer apology with no reason. So, Mr., I "mind"

Me: Well, actually I wanted to apologise but realised it's not necessary any more. So, let it sly.

Lola: Brother... (racking her brain to figure out my name) Peter?

Me: Sorry. My name is Femi.

Lola: Yes, Brother Femi. Tell me what it is you're apologizing for, please. Trust me, this can be what we'll be at all night. I've a very good and annoying habit - nagging.

Me: Wow. For real? But it's not worth the energy you're...

Lola: Leave that to me sir. Tell me why you want to apologize.

Me: Ok, ok. I will.

I adjusted myself again on that delicate chair, knowing fully well that a little moment of 'feeling at home' or relaxing will send me crashing down. Only God knows why those wicked ushers brought in such a spine-threatening chair inside the auditorium in the first place. I paused and thought about the effect of telling her what I did might brought upon my reputation. Can you imagine? I wasn't even gentlemanly enough; exchanging my chair when I should have simply requested for another. Won't that confession make me look selfish and wicked? Fear catch me small. I gave a deep sigh and turned my face elsewhere, searching for the courage to spill the beans while Lola's eyes were permanently fixed on me, expecting the "confession of a sinner." Well, she won't kill me now, I thought in myself. Just a 'sorry' will do. I cleared my throat and spoke,

Me: When I came inside, I was given tag no. 43, but when I located my seat, I wasn't impressed with the condition of the chair. So, I changed it with yours by exchanging the numbers on the chair. I was selfish I know. I think nemesis caught up with me when the coordinator asked us to change seats. Knowing fully well the evil I've done, and being embarrassed with your innocency and sincerity, I felt the need to apologise to you.

Lola: Wow. You mean I would've...

Me: Please Sister. Just,...you know, let it go. I'll go change the seat already.

I gestured a sorry hand towards her. She kept looking at me with her mouth wide open, in shock and disbelief I guess. I removed the semi-damaged seat and raged down to where the Ushering Crew are gathered.

Me: Why on earth will you bring such a damaged seat for people to sit on? Did you plan on sending people to India for Spine Surgery?

Usher 1 (a lady): We're sorry sir. It must have been an oversight. Forgive our negligence. Let's get you another chair, sir.

Me: Better...and thanks.

She brought another chair and offered to carry it to where I needed it. But alas, when we got to my row, Lola was gone! Her bag wasn't there anymore. This is not good. I think I hurt her badly.

I sat for few minutes looking back and forth, moving my eyes in all direction for a change to see Lola. I felt ashamed and disappointed. A moment of sharpness or smartness has brought out the foolishness in me. I couldn't cope with such stinging feeling inside me. I picked up my Bible and left the church.

I met this godly girl in a church programme. Whether that is appropriate or not, or whether I deserve her or not is still a mystery to me. You know sometimes, good things don't always come to those who wait; but they do most times. This girl is the toast of the church, like, everybody wants her ('everybody' here means guys only ooo). She hardly talk to the opposite sex during or after church programme. Immediately the grace is said or shared, she picks up her bag, "...bike", she calls, and off she goes ...home of course. So, how I managed to have her still makes me laugh. It was a funny circumstance really. Let me share it.

There was this quarterly youth programme hosted by one of the largest churches where I lived. So, youths from all the neighbouring town and villages do converge. Twas always a power-packed event, and, you know, with other stuffs (guys will understand better). I was overwhelmed with finding this "other stuff" that night. Since I was already on the process of change, that is, removing the garment of a sex addict (for those who don't know) to becoming a nice, god-fearing and a serious-minded brother. You go fear sef if you see me on a Sunday morning. I can almost pass for a General Overseer. It was that serious and, oh yea, convincing.

The seats were numbered already. At the point of entrance, you will be given a tag upon which is written the number of the seat allocated to you. Your job is to, with the help of the ushers, look out for the seat that carries the number of your tag. It was that simple and organized. I was given a tag with number 43 boldly written on it. When I finally located my seat, I wasn't happy with the condition of the seat. Na that kind seat wey fit fall person down yakata. Next to my seat was number 42 with a lady's bag on it. Without the knowledge of the usher, I removed the number of my seat, removed the number of the seat next to mine and exchanged them. Seat number 43 now became seat no 42, and vice versa. I sat down comfortably and eargerly waiting to see whose seat it is I exchanged.

At about 30mins or there about, the programme started with, of course, Praise Worship. We were about 10mins into the praise session when the occupant of Seat No. 42 came in. Guess who is was? The hot cake - Everybod's Girl Omolola (pseudonym). I fidgeted when I saw here. Her presence was as if the Holy Spirit came upon me. Her courtesy slapped my consciousness,

Omolola: Good evening sir. I need to take a seat.

Me: Of course yes. You're number....for...ty.....

Omolola: 42 sir.

Me: Yes! 42. Please come, sit.

I stepped aside for her as she made her way to her seat. I don't know how, I think she noticed something has changed cos she kept looking at her seat every 10secs. When God go catch me, The Youth Coordinator came up after the Praise Session. With his intention of spicing things up, he said,

"I don't like how we are sitted tonight. Youth of God, please exchange your seat with the person on your right."

Gobe! There were 5 seats a row. The number on my row started with 'Lola's number, 42. Since I'm on her right, she became 43 and I took 42. Talk about nemesis with a 10G Wireless.

I struggled really when I got married. It was hard coping with my hyper-active sex drive. To be sincere really, the feeling of having sex frequently, anytime, any day, anyhow formed part of the things I added up before getting married. Sex is, yes, the lubricant that keeps your marriage going but NOT the absolute. It took me time to understand and accept this concept. I am a sex freak, my wife isn't. The compactibility was a tough nut to crack for me. Like I said earlier, I struggled.

As a man, there is always something you're looking for in your woman. A guy may want his wife tall, fair, elegant, sociable, outspoken, classy, glamorous, good communication skill and all what not...the list is endless. Using the right word, an average guy want his woman to be an ANGEL who will make him happy when he's sad; have sex with him when he's Hot; understand, upperstand* belowstand* and even, anyhowstand* him in whatever mood he is. The truth is, THERE IS NO SUCH WOMAN! You can only make your woman look the way you want her to look. God has given the man all it takes to shapen his woman into whatever image or form he sees fit. If you are a guy looking for a woman that will do all you ever wanted or crave, please, for the love of God, marry a slave.

Marriage is a partnership. Both the man and the woman are the stakeholders and shareholders. Although God has given the man the scepter of leadership, that i no sense make the woman lesser. She is an 'help'. Any man who disregard, maltreat or disrespect his woman really do not deserve to be 'helped.'

With this foundation laid, I would love the readers of this thread to be open minded, be constructive in their criticism, objection and opinion. I understand that what worked for A may not completely work for B; but that doesn't mean it won't work at all.

Let's start my story then with: The Husband and his Girl...

INTRODUCTION.

Marriage is an institution that God Himself established. The primary purpose of marriage is for companionship, then for procreation. To some people, marriage is the greatest fulfillment one can attain to in life as it helps determine if, to the men now, one can really be called a MAN. It defines your person, ego, philosophy, modus operandi and your wit. To the women, there is no height of joy, no sense of fulfillment, no glorious day compared to the day you walk down the aisle, holding on firmly to your father’s hand (or whoever it is that represents him) with a trembling hands and wobbling feet (lol) in the presence of all the side-chicks, wanna-bes, haters, lovers, family, friends, neighbours, well-wishers and the ‘mo gbo, mo yas’ (the uninviteds) to say ‘I do’ to the man of your dreams. As my wife puts it, “It sent a chill feeling down my spine.”

However, other people see marriage as overrated and it’s not worth the fuss. Some see wedding ring as a small handcuff that limits you from flexing your muscle; a verbal and written agreement to ALWAYS be faithful to one partner--no matter what! Let me say here that whoever finds marriage a prison entered into it with the wrong motive. Let me not dig further for now. Save the normal challenges that normal couples all over the world face, every mature boys and girls out there should dream about marriage, work towards it, pray about it and ultimately, tie the knot. Don't wait until you have millions in your bank account before you start taking steps. There are so many issues tied to this salient point. I will try to unravel them as time goes on.

Enough for an introduction o jare.

I dedicate this thread to all the good wives here on Nairaland and wherever this story will get to as a result of 'copy and paste' ish by bloggers (permission FULLY granted in advance).

Before some people will make a 'superstory, utopia-inspired' thoughts on this thread, let me start by outlining the intention(s) of this thread. I open this thread to:

1. Help forge a lasting bond between married couples,

2. Give few tips on how to handle delicate relationships,

3. Offer practical solutions to the overwhelming pressure on today's families (my view though),

4. And lastly, to help those in courtship presently, reach their Cana'an Land - Marriage.

In addition, I will, at this time, prefer pseudonyms to real names. I decided to do this because one of the characters I potrayed in my debut thread, "True Life Story of A Sex Addict", is a chronic Nairalander! Lol.

Let me quickly answer the question that Pinkycute or Cherrybrown will eventually ask me: "Does your wife support this?" The answer is an emphatic and a resounding 'YES'.

So, sit back and enjoy it.

OlufemiAbbey.

This world is gone.

I vote ADEMOLADEJI