Things happen for some people, just like that. They finish school, get jobs, get married, have kids and so on. I fall into that category, except for one part. The marriage part. This blog shares my experiences (replace that with escapades) Finding Hubby over the next three months. I’ll post twice a week, on Wednesdays and Saturdays. You can make any comments you like, but there’s only one rule – Do not judge anyone.
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 tush, 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
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.