MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE AND HAVE AN AMAZING, UNFORGETTABLE NEW YEAR!

I really doubt that I'll post in the next three weeks but instead, I'll try and have loads of fun so that I can have stories galore to entertain you with in the new year. Oh and just because I'm not posting doesn't mean I won't be reading, so no slacking off the rest of you!!!

Monday 11 December 2006 - Random thoughts...

The Countdown: 2 weeks and 2 days until I go to Lagos … I can’t wait!!!

Winters for Two: Is it me or does winter seemed to have been designed specifically with couples in mind? It's freezing cold, it's always raining and it gets dark ridiculously early and all of these factors conspire to keep you indoors from November until March. Five long months which are only really fun if you're part of a twosome. You see, for couples, winters are actually lots of fun ... staying in, talking, playing games, reading, chilling in general is much more fun if you have somebody to do it with. Plus if you do decide to venture out and see the Christmas lights or go ice skating, then guess what? More fun with someone else! In the summer, I have a fuller schedule than I have hours in the day and I'm always grateful for any time I get to myself. And if I find myself alone and with nothing to do, there are a myriad of parks awaiting my presence in some shorts and armed with magazines, books and food. Now I am very happy being single but if there is ever a time of year where I get a bit of twinge about how great it would be to have someone, it's in winter!

My Chauvinist Brother: I had the funniest conversation with my brother who is a tongue in cheek chauvinist pig. At least I hope it's tongue in cheek! I'm a huge feminist so I suspect he sometimes says things just to wind me up. I was telling him how much I love Beyonce's 'Irreplaceable' (which I love by the way) and the conversation went something like this. You have to imagine how dead pan he delivers his lines and how worked up I was getting with every word he was saying.

Me: I love Irreplaceable! I have no idea why because I'm not a bit fan of her solo stuff but I really love that song!
Him: I don't. It gives women ideas, makes them forget their place. Men are never replaceable, only women are.
Me (my voice seething with sarcasm): Let me guess, 'cater to you' is more your kind of song.
Him: Thank you! Now that's a song. Women everywhere should employ that as their anthem!
Me: I hate that song with a passion, please; you couldn't pay me to sing those lyrics!
Him: Nope, it was only after they sang that song that I started to really respect DC. I really don't approve of all that 'Independent woman', 'I'm a Survivor' crap they were singing before then.
And Cassie is hot, but she it's her song that cinched the deal for me. He starts singing, '…I know what to do, if only you would let me, as long as you're cool, you know I'd treat you right...’ Oh and don't even get me started on Rihanna, like a woman would ever be unfaithful to a man...

Good bye to Noni Moss: Aww, isn't it sad when bloggers leave the blog world? Unfortunately, she is a friend of mine so I'm kinda stuck with her but I'm sure the rest of you guys will really miss her!

It's pretty old by now but I still stop everything I'm doing and listen whenever James Morrison's 'You give me something' comes on the radio. Do yourselves a favour and listen to it!

My Biggest Shame

I realise I might be ever so slightly flawed. Okay, maybe a bit more than slightly ... fine, fine, I admit it, I'm very flawed. But for the most part I'm very aware of my flaws so I don't need anybody to tell me that I'm stubborn, passive aggressive, or that I can be argumentative and harsh (though I'm not sure if that's a flaw since I'm a big believer in judging people by the same standards that I set myself). But that's besides the point, the point is I sometimes struggle to admit that I am wrong, and I would rather ignore a problem with someone than confront it, that I can isolate myself from the people that I really should let in. I'm pretty sure you get it, wrapped up in this pretty package is a whole lot of unpretty. But I get it too, I'm painfully aware of all of my bad habits and characteristics, which is why I hang on to this memory; this memory of a time where I became a person I should have been better than, when I acquired a whole new set of flaws I would never ever have attributed to myself. Here's the story.

On my first day at university, I made lots of friend but three in particular became my close friends; they were Becky, Alice and Marya. We lived on the same floor of the residence building and made plans after three months to share a house together in our second year. Ironically, we all became friends out of a mutual admiration for Becky who was so funny and outgoing at a time when most of us were still pretty shy. Becky met a guy on her first day at university and pretty soon they became inseparable and soon she started making excuses about why she couldn't come out with us, or she would pretend she wasn't feeling well so as to cancel our plans. After a while we started bonding really well without Becky and actually started getting really frustrated with her. She on the other hand started hanging out with her boyfriend's friends who really didn't like us. Needless to say, we were really weren't the best of friends by the end of the first year but seeing as we had a house with all our names on the lease, we had to live together, and things got really bad.

I'm not trying to justify my behaviour because it really isn't justifiable but I'd like to explain how things became the way they did. Becky had some little annoying habits such as talking through films, TV programmes etc, her boyfriend practically moved in and they'd drink all the milk but she would never ever buy any, or anything else for that matter, she would make annoying comments (like comment on how much one of us was eating even though she knew we were conscious about our weight), though now I realise that she probably didn't mean it maliciously. It was little things but as none of us was the confrontational sort, we'd talk about it to each other instead of talking to her directly. Or we'd set up these elaborate scenes where one of us would come into the lounge and say something like 'You guys, I'm sick and tired of always buying milk, can one of you please do it?' and the other two would recount when last they had bought milk all in the hope that Becky would pipe up and say, 'actually, it's my turn. I haven't bought any in a while'. I know, I know, one of us really should have sat her down and said, 'Becky it's your turn to buy milk, can you please start pulling your weight and take on your share of responsibilities?’ It started off with us getting annoyed about valid things, but the more annoyed we got and the more we'd talk about it within ourselves, the more petty we became. Because Marya, Alice and I were so close, we'd often hang out in each other's rooms and when Becky would come to spend time with us (usually using an excuse like offering us tea or wanting to borrow a book because we must have made her feel so unwelcome) we'd leave one by one until Becky would leave too and then within half an hour we'd be assembled in a different room again. She must have sensed the tension because the worst we became, the nicer she was and the more of an effort she would make.

I often felt bad but most of the time, I was too annoyed to really care.

In my third year, I moved to Canada for my first semester and I heard things in the house were even more strained. However, with the distance, I started to realise how mean we were being and how much I would have hated it if I were in Becky's shoes. And then Alice's ex-boyfriend told her that Becky had told him that she would hear us talk about her and she really hated living with us and it really hit home just how horrible we were. Because we never confronted her, we never let her know what our issues with her were thereby not giving her a chance to do anything about it. We basically never even gave her a chance. I can't even begin to explain how ashamed of myself I felt then (and even now, whenever I think about it) and I resolved to stop. And I did, in my last two semesters, I stopped bitching about her (even though I did let her know what I thought every now and then) and we even became closer. I became more patient with her and actually started seeing the good in her again instead of focusing on her flaws.

I'm blogging about it and I force myself to think about it every once in a while just so I remember what kind of a person I'm capable of being if I'm not careful. Like I said, I know my flaws but I never would have thought I was capable of being a cold, intolerant bitch and that's exactly what I was.

If I don't tell you enough how I feel about you
It is because I assume that you already know
Now that you're going away
I’m through with assuming, I want to tell you exactly how I feel

I'm happier when I'm with you
I'm always laughing when you're around
Everything makes me smile when I see you smile. You make me smile
I love the fact that I can spend hours in your presence and not feel the need to say anything
I love that I can rant for ages and yet you make me feel like every word I utter is just as valid as the first

I love the ways in which you constantly challenge me.
I respect you
I value your opinions
I demand from myself the same high standards that you continuously demonstrate in everything you do
I admire you
I believe in you

I love your hair and your eyes and your perfect lips
I love everything about you
I even love you when you're grumpy in the morning or moan at me for forgetting to do something

I'm pretty sure I could live without you, but I sure as hell have no inclination to try

What I love about Naija Guys

I think of myself as an equal opportunity dater. My dad is Nigerian, my mum is Greek, I spent my childhood in Nigeria, spent my summers in Greece, lived my adult life in England; four years of those spent in Wales where I went to university. Oh, and I spent a semester in Canada. My point is, I've spent my life experiencing different countries and I've been immersed in lots of different cultures and I'm being totally and completely honest when I say that race isn't an issue in the people I meet, or in guys I like. I've dated English guys, I've dated Nigerian guys, I went out with an Indian guy for four months and my friend and I had the biggest crush on a Japanese guy in one of our classes. Really, truly, neither race nor colour is an issue for me.

Now Nigerian guys get a lot of bad press (and I have to admit I'm responsible for at least some of it!), but I think it's very possible that I'll end up with a Nigerian guy. Maybe it's because I spent my formative years around them, as much as there is that I don't like about Naija guys, there's a lot I’m very attracted to. So in the spirit of looking on the bright side and weighing the positives, let me tell you what I love about Nigerian guys (NGs):

o Their persistence: There's an age old cliché that goes something along the lines of ’nothing worth having is ever easy to get' and nobody takes this to heart quite like our Naija brothers. If a NG decides that he likes you and no one else will do, then you're in for a long (often very fun) ride of numerous phone calls, interesting and varied chat up lines, whispers from mutual friends about how much he likes you and if you're lucky and all of this coincides with that one holiday of love a.k.a Valentines day, then you could really hit the jackpot! The point is, if they see something that they like, they will go for it and there's something to be said for that kind of work ethic. This also goes hand in had with their confidence. There's something extremely attractive about a guy that exudes confidence, it makes me want to find out what it is about him that makes him have such self-belief.

o Their ambition: Leading on from my previous point, I love the way NGs always aim for greatness; okay so their motivation is often great amounts of money and huge houses but what is important is that mediocrity is not an option. Probably the thing I find most attractive in a guy is ambition so this is a pretty big deal to me.

o They're very often great conversationalists. I have spent many a late night wrapped up in conversation with a NG. They also give a damn what is going on with you which is very refreshing in our me, me, me generation.

o They let you know that they like you, and how much. I was being 'toasted' by this guy when I was 14. He was older and very popular but he decided he liked me. Apparently once, before we started talking, he knew I'd be somewhere and even though he didn't have petrol in his car, he bribed a friend into giving him a lift so he could be there. And he'd call me just to tell me good night, even though he was with his boys and no doubt they would rag on him. I was fourteen and a good girl, he knew I wasn't going to do anything with him, he just genuinely liked me. Even now, so many years later, I won't settle for a guy who doesn't treat me well because as far as I'm concerned if someone once thought so much of me that they'd have done anything for me, then I deserve that. He's the standard by which I judge guys by now.

o If they have the means, they can be very generous.

Note: Not all NG possess all the qualities described above, so don't be popping your collar if you don't because I'm not talking about you!

The Blogger formally known as 1982 - I stole this title from London Buki

I realised that I didn't have a reason for blogging under a pseudonym so I'm now using my real name; Vickii! So that person haunting your blogs and leaving comments is still me, just with a different name!

Random Musing - Language vs. Story

A friend of mine is a writer and she often sends me her stories for my opinion. The other day, after telling her my opinion about a story she had written which I loved, she commented that she felt I often got too caught up by the story to give her a clear, objective and technical analysis of her writing. I'm obsessed with reading and extremely particular about grammar and language and all of that good stuff that I paid attention to in English class, but I realised that when it comes down to it, the story is more important to me than the skill of the writer.

That being said, I hate bad or sloppy writing and I'm constantly amazed by how many university graduates I know who cannot put together a decent sentence. But as long as the writing is of a good standard, then all I need is a good story to keep me happy. In fact, I'll go as far as to say the story is the most important element of any literary work. Much like clothes and people, the writing should accentuate the story and tell it in the most fitting way possible but it should never overshadow it.

For example, one of the many criticisms levelled at 'The DaVinci Code' was that it was badly written. I didn't notice because I was way too caught up in the story. And I am so in awe of JK Rowling's imagination that I honestly cannot comment on whether the Harry Potter books are well written or not because that is the last thing on my mind as I curse the tube for being unusually reliable and getting me to my stop on time thereby forcing me to put down her latest 800 page novel. But if I were to venture a guess, I'd say she's not the only billionaire author because she 'writes really well'. Zadie Smith on the other hand, is a technically amazing writer and while 'On Beauty' did grow on me eventually, let's just say I was more than happy to get to the end. There were several amazing sentences littered throughout the book, but I never got swept away by the story or really gave a damn about any of the characters.

This is just some very random musing on my part, and bear in mind that I want to be a book editor/ maybe author/ I am obsessed with reading when you wonder who in God's name muses about stuff like this!

McNaughty

'You have one new voice mail message. Message received yesterday at 11:31 pm ... The lady who doesn't answer her phone. If you know who this is, call me back. Bye.'

Hmmm, of course I knew who it was, it was McNaughty. I didn't know he was in the country. Then again, I never know he is in the country until I get a voice mail message like this one. McNaughty is a guy I met last Christmas in Lagos. He is a friend of a friend and happened to live in the same estate that we were staying in. Everything about him screams bad news. He has a shaved head and a goatee, he's tall and he definitely has a presence. He's older than me, works in one of the oil companies and has ambitions on becoming President of the country one day. All of this is wrapped up in a very attractive package topped off with an arrogant swagger that seems to suggest he gets everything he wants.

I could tell he was attracted to me from the get go, and as I normally do when faced with guys like him, I wasn't having any of it! I was polite but not friendly, and declined a dance later when he asked me to dance. However over the next few days, we went to a lot of the same places and we ended up going out, just the two of us. I'm not going to say he isn't arrogant, or doesn't think he can have everything he wants, but there is a lot more to him than that. We saw each other more or less every day and just had fun, going to bars alone, going clubbing with friends, and just hanging out. We kissed but we never did anything more. In fact, one of the first things I said to him was 'I'm not sleeping with you, so don't waste your time if that's what you want'. I had so much fun that holiday and that was in part because of him.

The downside was I fell out with one of my friends over him because she thought he was bad news and he had a girlfriend. And even the mutual friend who introduced us told me to be wary of him. I found out a long time after that he did have a girlfriend but at the time, I had asked him and he told me in no uncertain terms that he didn't. As I tried to explain to my friends, I didn't need looking after. I was having fun with him because I knew I was only there for two weeks and once I left, that would be it. I knew that my friend's fears about him were valid but I knew I would never get involved with a guy like him in 'real life' and I was just having fun for a couple of weeks. The thing is, I know he liked me. Not just thought I was pretty, but actually liked me. He told me the night before I left, ‘I’m serious about you. I’ve spoken to you everyday for the last two weeks; I don’t do that with everyone.’

Surprisingly, he stayed in touch when I came back, and we called each other every once in a while and texted pretty often. In May, I got a call out of the blue from him saying he was in town and did I want to meet up? At the time, I was working two jobs and didn't have much time so I only had one evening to see him as he wasn't around for very long. We met up at a pub and just talked, him trying to put his arms round me and so on and me being very insistent that this was going to be a completely platonic meeting. At one point, I was saying I thought I would end up with somebody older than me and somebody that was outstanding in some way because I'd need to have enormous respect for him, when McNaughty looked at me and asked. 'So, where do I rank on this scale of someone you could see yourself with?' At first I tried to brush off the question because I didn't know what to say, but he was insistent so finally I admitted to him, ' you're not somebody I would end up with. I'd need to be with somebody who I believe can be faithful to me, and I don't think I could ever believe that about you'. He got very offended and tried to convince me that if he decided he wanted to spend the rest of his life with someone, then he would be faithful. The whole date was kind of surreal, he seemed to be trying to convince of another side to him, and I wasn't convinced, not because I don’t think he’s capable of being a good (honest and faithful) man, but because I’m not willing to be the one who finds out.

He didn't contact me after that. I'm not sure why but I assumed it was for the best. No calls, no texts, nothing. Until now and the voice mail, 6 months later.

I'm going to call him back.

I Love Love Love Christmas

Warning: Do you think Christmas is an over rated holiday created by a capitalist society determined to exploit our consumerist nature and squeeze from us every ounce of spare cash we might have? Do you think we have forgotten the true meaning of Christmas? If you do, please stop reading now as this post is likely to offend you. You humbug!

I don’t think I’ve made this very clear but I love Christmas! And it’s not too early to start talking about Christmas. As far as I’m concerned, as soon as November hits, it is officially the Christmas season. And any true Christmas fan knows that the build up to Christmas is the best bit of all!

I love advent calendars and the fact that you have to wear gloves to keep your fingers from falling off. I love it when the shops start putting up their Christmas decorations and playing Christmas music. Not just carols but all the cheesy songs that would make you cringe at any other time of year! Wham’s ‘Last Christmas’ for example. 'Last Christmas, I gave you my heart ... this year I'm saving my tears, I'll give it to someone special'. I love that everybody seems much happier too. I live in London where the most you can expect is a grunt from a stranger before they attempt to push past you, but at Christmas, people start smiling, they say ‘excuse me’ and (shock) start offering you the spare seat on the tube instead of sprinting over you in an attempt to get to it first. I usually walk into the office grinning broadly at this time of year, and if I start the day like that, nothing can spoil it for me!

I love the Christmas lights on Regent and Oxford Streets! I even loved them last year when they were rather tacky. I don’t even mind coming out of work at 5:30 to a pitch black night because the sight of the lights when I walk to the top of my road and turn the corner, makes it all worth it. I love stormy weekends cuddled under my duvet, I love Christmas movies even though they are rarely any good. I love them even more when they are great, like Love Actually! I even love the cold in winter. It's so crisp and fresh. Don't even get me started on snow! I love dressing up for work Christmas parties and dinners with friends. I love that miracles seem possible at Christmas.

Most of all, I love going home to spend Christmas with my family. This year, the last working day is Friday the 22nd and I’m going to be on the very next train home for four days of annoying family members, and Christmas morning anticipation. Gorging on chocolates and fruit cake for breakfast and spending the day in a flurry of sleeping, eating and playing board games like Articulate and Connect 4.

Did I mention, I LOVE CHRISTMAS!

Ps: Don’t bother leaving any comments telling me it’s too early to be excited about Christmas. I’m all for free speech but I’m banning all anti-Christmas sentiments from my blog!!!

Show me your friends … Olivia and Bisola.

Ever heard that old saying, ‘show me your friends and I’ll tell you who you are’? Or something like that. Anyway, the point is that your friends are a reflection of who you are. As a general rule, I don’t agree with that. Obviously, each of our friends appeal to a part of us but I think it is way too simplistic to say your friends are an identikit of you. Speaking for myself, none of my friends are anything like me, and there are times when I’ve wondered for the life of me why I am friends with certain people. So, below, I attempt to describe some of my friends and my relationships with them, please feel free to tell me what you think my friendships say about me.

Olivia: We met on our first day at university, lived together for two years and have stayed in touch in the three years since we graduated. We initially bonded over similar interests, we both loved pop music and had crushes on Eminem but over time we realised that we had a lot in common. I’m one of those people who has random thoughts and feelings that most people don’t understand but often, I would start to explain these to Olivia and she would finish off what I was trying to say; she knew exactly what I was feeling and was often feeling the same way. She’s also the one person I can have an amazing time with. If she’s in the right mood, then I can have the most fun with her. Also, if she’s in the right mood, I feel like I can tell her anything at all. The thing with Olivia is that she’s very self obsessed and it stems from insecurity. Odd because she’s one of the most beautiful girls I know. At university, you would see the recognition come across people’s faces when they were introduced to her because everyone had heard about her and how pretty she was. We went to NY together and she got asked to model and she had people coming up to her asking if she was an actress or a model because she looked like she was famous.

Because of her issues, I found she couldn’t be there for me if she felt she was dealing with something more important, and after a while I found that I didn’t feel like I could go to her if I was dealing with something. I often felt that we remained friends because she needed someone to listen to her and tell her what she needed to hear (which I’m particularly good at). One thing that would piss me off was having a conversation with Olivia that she wasn’t interested in. She would either not answer; she would simply not respond to what you said or what you asked or she would interrupt you and change the topic of conversation smack bang in the middle of whatever you were saying. After we finished uni, we went to NY together on holiday and it was the best and worst of Olivia all rolled into one. The first week was amazing but I spent most of the second week really annoyed at her. I decided in that week that there wasn’t any point in our being friends.

I stayed at our University to do an LLM and she moved to Russia for a while and I decided that I wouldn’t make any effort to continue our friendship because in the long run, I didn’t think she was a good friend to me. But she struggled those three months in Russia and I found I couldn’t cut her off when she was going through so much. We continued to talk and e-mail and at the moment we talk and see each other occasionally but I’ve found myself not actively trying to keep our friendship alive, and at the moment she has a boyfriend who she’s obsessed with so she’s not working at our friendship either so who knows, this could be it for us. If it is the end for us, I honestly feel like some parts of our friendship have been great and I don’t regret any of it for a second, but at the same time, I can’t say I’d be sad. And that’s what I find saddest of all.

Bisola: Bisola and I went to school together in Lagos for a year. We were part of a big group of friends and while we got along well, I wouldn’t say we were particularly close. I remember at the time I wished we were closer but I often felt I wasn’t popular enough, or cool enough or wild enough for her. After a year, I moved to England and less than a month after I arrived, I got a letter from Bisola and we continued to write each other for years after, during which she moved to Austria and then to the States. I still remember my surprise when I got that first letter from her. If you had asked me who I thought I would stay in touch with out of that group of friends, Bisola would have come in at maybe sixth or seventh on the list. As it was, I only really stayed in touch with her and one other girl who I’ll write about later.

We’re very different, Bisola and I. Apart from a mutual appreciation of fashion and certain writing ambitions, we’re not very similar at all, but somehow, it works. I’m not sure what role distance plays in our friendship … whether we’d be closer if we lived in the same country or whether our differences would have driven us apart by now. On the one hand, there’s a lot we haven’t experienced together (neither of us has seen the other drunk) but I can’t help thinking that means we haven’t had as many chances to piss each other off either. At the moment, we e-mail each other a lot and are both going to be in Nigeria at Christmas … a fact I’m so excited about I literally can’t wait!

On the whole, I’d definitely describe her as one of my best friends but also one of the people my age I most admire. She’s very driven and successful. She has accomplished more than anyone I know my age and she’s always trying to do more. At the moment, she’s the proud owner of a couple of properties, she’s writing a novel, currently mapping out ideas for a business book, organising a scholarship program for under privileged kids, trying to become a better photographer … oh and she has a full time job and a boyfriend!

There’s a lot more to write on my friends than I realised so I’ll continue this another time. In the meantime, I’m curious, am I the only one who has friends who are the complete opposite of me? What are your friends like?

Idyllic Kaduna

I realised today that it has been a week since I posted something new on my blog and even worse, I couldn’t think of anything to write about nor did I feel like I gave enough of a damn about anything to actually blog about it. So I reached out to fellow blogger Noni Moss for some help. After a few rather unhelpful suggestions: Her: ‘Write about politics’. Me: ‘Erm okay, vague much?’ She e-mailed me this rather good suggestion: ‘You can blog about your experiences in Nigeria - North vs. South. Give us southerners and typical Lagosians an insight into life in the North that is otherwise a clouded stereotypical view of bush illiterate Northerners with no amenities’. After I had finished bristling at that description of the North, I laughed and started write, so thanks Noni Moss!

I’m not going to compare the North and South because they’re very different, and also, I only lived in the South (Lagos) for a year so I don’t think I could write an informed piece about what it is like to grow up there.

I was born in Kaduna and spent the next nine years of my life there. What did I like the most? Well for starters, I loved our house. It wasn’t the biggest house in the world, but it is the only house that my dad actually built (that I know of and that I lived in). It was a bungalow (my parents didn’t think steps were safe for children) that in itself was very quaint but the absolute best thing about that house was the garden. My dad was the first to build in that part of Kaduna and he had secured a huge piece of land. Our house could have fit into the garden about ten times. It had a gravel road leading from the gates to the garage and behind the garage were the boys’ quarters. We also had a chicken farm, a farm that my grand dad set up for us when he came to visit, a strawberry patch, a small vineyard and our absolute favourite to play in, two pagodas linked together. One of them had a bar and we had all our birthday parties in them. We also played in them incessantly and it was the first place all our friends wanted to go to when they came to our house. We also had four dogs; Stella, Lina, Peggy and Speaky and a cat; Jemaima in the years we lived there. Jemaima was a Siamese cat who had been castrated and as a result was enormous. We had taken her and Stella in from some British friends of my father’s who were moving back to England and she never ever liked anyone except my father. We never saw her except for when my dad came back from work. He would go to his room, take off his shoes, go and sit in his chair with his legs stretched out in front of him and one of the house girls would bring him his food. Then, and only then, would she come into the house and sit on his outstretched feet. And as soon as he finished eating, she would get up and leave the house to return the next day at the same time.

I loved that house!

But it wasn’t just the house I loved. Kaduna was a great place to grow up. We had so many opportunities I don’t know if we would have had if we had lived anywhere else. We took French lessons at Alliance Francais and had piano lessons down the road from there. We had Sunday lunch at the rugby club and had Karate lessons and ate suya at Kaduna Club. We took swimming lessons at Hamdala hotel and had English breakfasts with our favourite uncle at the Durbar hotel when he was in town. We watched my dad perform in ‘Oklahoma’ and ‘Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves’ at the British Council. He was the peddler in one and the leader of the forty thieves in the other, if you’re interested. And we had so many amazing friends. Gosha and Danny, Susan, Samantha and Victoria, Sandra, Iko and Sylvia, all of whom we went to Essence International school with before my dad decided that the standard of education in private schools wasn’t up to scratch and sent us off to Air force school! Itohan, Ayo and Tunde, Isioma, Ogadi and Ngozi, Kaltume and Yakaka, Dili and Akalaka are all faces that made my childhood the amazing experience it was.

I know people talk about the North being backwards but I don’t think that’s an accurate assessment by any means. At the time, all the Northern factions of the embassies were based in Kaduna, Kano had an international airport, a cinema was built in Kaduna over 10 years ago and we had all the hypermarkets that are only just now springing up in Lagos.

I can’t possibly talk about my childhood without talking about Zaria. My Yaya and Papou (Grandma and Granddad) lived in Zaria and we spent all our school holidays there playing with the Greek boys that lived round the corner and eating my Yaya’s famous home-made ice cream while they marvelled at the fact that we would watch ‘The Sound of Music’ and ‘Oklahoma’ at least once a day everyday without getting bored. They had one house as well that stands out as being amazing to stay in. It had gorgeous rosebushes and a tire swing round the back. My Yaya is always telling us the story about how Papou was supposed to take us for dinner to our favourite Lebanese restaurant one evening and he came back really late from the farm so by the time he had a shower and drove us to the restaurant we were ravenous. Being the little impatient children we were, we filled up on the bread and hummus and by the time the main meal arrived (huge chicken kebabs if I remember correctly), we were stuffed and had even fallen asleep. Since we didn’t touch our food, my Yaya asked my Papou to ask the waiter to wrap it up so we could take it home with us. My Papou, being somewhat shy, didn’t want to say it was for the children so he said we wanted the left overs for the dogs. No harm, no foul … till the next afternoon when Yaya unwrapped the package in the fridge to serve it to three children and found out it was a pile of bones. I guess the poor people in the restaurant were like ‘Look at these yeye white people, they want to take good meat and feed it to their dogs, please jo, dogs eat bones!’

Anybody who knows me knows that I’m adamant that I’ll never ever move back to Nigeria. What they don’t know is that I’d move back in a heartbeat to Kaduna if it had remained exactly the same as it was when we grew up there.

A Question of Colour

I was having a conversation with a couple of friends, I can’t remember for the life of me what we were talking about but I'm going to take a wild guess and say we (or I) was talking about how I never meet guys. One of them turned to me and said, 'please, like you have a problem meeting guys. I have seen the amount of attention you get from men'. I explained to her that because I'm mixed race, I do get attention from guys but it's only because of the colour of my skin. She was very surprised to hear this because she honestly never thought of it that way. My other friend who was there is very blessed in the chest area and she felt it was the same situation she was in, the first thing guys noticed about her were her breasts and she’d actually spoken to guys who she was sure had no idea what her face looked like because they were too busy drooling at her cleavage. We ended up getting into a conversation about how being 'fair skinned' is on par with having big boobs or a nice ass ... guys can't help but react to you.

I grew up in Kaduna where being light skinned was never really an issue as there are lots of inter-racial families and also many of the Hausa people are quite fair. We moved to Benin when I was about 10 and I went to boarding school there. Apart from the fact that the most popular boys and girls in the senior class instantly appointed themselves mine and my siblings’ school mothers and fathers, I didn't particularly feel like I stood out or that I got any excessive attention in my time there. It was when I moved to Lagos when I was 13 that it all began properly. I went to ISL for a year and I must have been chatted up by no less than 6 boys on my very first day at the school, everybody knew who I was and I honestly can't count the number of times Uni Lag boys would drive by after school and park their cars down the road and either beckon me over to try and talk to me, or send another student to give me a message. I remember one sports day, this boy and his friend followed me around the entire evening, I mean they literally walked behind me for the entire time I was there. It wasn't just the guys though. I became a bit of an enigma amongst girls of QC as well. It started off with them not liking me because they thought I had stolen a QC girl's boyfriend even though I don’t do guys with girlfriends. This girl was very popular so the SS1 girls decided en masse that they hated me and during their Interhouse sports day, it was rumoured that they had bought water pistols and were going to spray me with them if I dared to show my face. Fast forward to a few months later, I met a cousin of mine for the first time who happened to be in my year at QC, she asked about the whole thing, I told her what happened and she made it her mission to clear my name at QC. Because they had hated me for several months and they now realised that I hadn't actually stolen this girl’s boyfriend, they became friendly instead. I remember going to this party once, and we were standing around outside for a while when my friends and I decided to go for a walk. A friend of mine called to me saying, 'hey B, wait up!' when I heard one of the QC girls also hanging around say, 'Is that B, is that B? Oh my God, I can't believe we are at the same party and we haven’t even talked.’ Lol ... I still smile about that now. A male friend of mine revealed to me a couple of years ago that there was a bet going round amongst some ISL boys about who would date me first. To drive my point home, let me explain that at that time, I was painfully shy around people I didn’t know, I didn't go to parties that much, nor did I go out with any of the bad/popular boys (parties and dating/’cutting show’ with the bad boys were usually the determining factor as to how popular a girl was). Basically, I became as popular and/or notorious as I did because of the fact that I was mixed race.

Now I'm not saying that the colour of my skin is the only thing about me that guys find attractive. I scrub up pretty well but when it comes down to it, while I know I'm hot, I'm also very aware that I'm not that hot. My skin colour is definitely a defining factor. Though I've been told that it's not just about skin colour but the whole package that comes along with mixed race girls like long hair.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining about it and I've accepted that it is the way it is. I'm just curious about why it is this way. And before anyone even thinks of leaving a comment along the lines of ‘please jare, like you don’t like all the attention. Ptcheew.’ Let me point out that I am that rare breed of girl who actually doesn’t like attention. At least not from anyone I don’t actually give a damn about, and random guys hitting on me on the street definitely fall into this category. Also as a girl, I would say the chances of any guy hitting on you being slightly dateable is about 50:50 so how come in my entire 12 years of being hit on, I’ve only ever come across like 3 halfway decent guys? In my opinion, there are very few advantages to getting lots of attention.

Anyway, back to the point of this post, I'm curious about why it is this way. A guy I was seeing once had a well documented attraction for light-skinned girls and his response was that we were different and that's why he was attracted to us. Why do guys like light skinned girls? Let's flip the script as well because I know a few girls who just can't resist a mixed race guy. So girls, why do you like light skinned guys? And is being attracted to fair girls/guys the same as liking girls with big boobs/asses and guys with dimples/muscles?

I Miss having Someone

I miss having someone

Someone who doesn’t have to find me interesting, or find me funny, or even care what I think
And yet he is fascinated by everything I say, and he can’t help the burst of laughter that escapes him every time I make a joke, and he always wants to know my opinion

I miss having someone

Someone who I think I’ve told everything to, and yet he finds new ways to learn even more
Someone I spend hours talking to on the phone and then curse in jest as I fall asleep at my desk
Someone who can make a grasp of my hand feel like the most illicit thrill of all
Someone who can make my entire night simply by being in the same room

I miss having someone
I miss holding hands
I miss kissing
I miss the naughty touching

I miss having someone who can always figure me out, even when I really don’t want him to
I miss having someone who knows all my dreams and fears even better than I do
I miss having someone who knows when to give me my space, and when to hold me so close I feel like he might never let go

I miss having someone

And then I ask myself, ‘how can I miss something I never had?’

Me v. Olawunmi: A little matter about a pre-nup.

I was out a couple of months ago for a friend’s leaving do. It was at a lovely bar; all white sofas and overpriced cocktails. In the corner was a huge TV screen and glued to it, (like a certain someone that night to her GQ cocktails) was a fellow blogger, and a very good one at that; Olawunmi. We fumbled through a conversation during which I must have made the terrible faux pas of commenting on his watching a game on a night out, when he turned to me just long to say: 'Have you read my blog on pre-nups. I'm having a clause included saying that my wife will have to allow me to watch all and any sports on TV in peace'. Can I point out here that his team wasn't even playing, though apparently, that is completely irrelevant as guys are capable of being extremely interested in any football game, regardless of who is playing. As a relatively new convert to Olawunmi's fascinating and incredibly well-written blog, I had been catching up on previous entries and had not come across said post yet.

So I was at work, kinda bored and I decided to dig into his blog archives and guess what I find? The infamous blog entitled 'I am going to get lynched for this'. Now, I know from the number of comments left by other women that I'm not the only one who has something to say about this, so here goes ...

I don’t normally agree with pre-nups. At least not the kind protecting somebody’s wealth or guaranteeing that a party benefits if the marriage fails. I’m not going to marry anybody who truly believes that I’ll try and take him for all he’s worth if we split up. I also wouldn’t marry somebody if I felt they would squeeze me dry given half a chance. Call me naïve, but I’d much rather be proven wrong time and again than never have that faith in the person I marry in the first place. I do however, find the concept of a pre-nup protecting certain relationship ‘rights’ intriguing. What follows is not so much my pre-nup but rather a reply to Olawunmi’s conditions which I think are probably typical of the average guys’.

One question first. Why is divorce such a dirty word? I hope and pray when I get married, it is for ever but you know what, shit happens. I believe in trying to make it work and I hate to see couples who have not yet tried everything else resort to divorce. On the other hand though, everyone has some limits; some things that they just won't put up with and I don't think there's any harm in making these known. Mine are infidelity and my husband hitting me. Everything else we'll work through. At least the man that marries me will know that if he cheats, and I find out, then it's over. It's not like I didn't warn him and he can't say he didn’t know what would happen if he got caught. Likewise, I would like to know what his deal breaker is, so I can do everything in my power to avoid committing it.

TV rights, my husband will be more than welcome to. But I will be insisting on a second (equally flash and expensive) TV for myself where I can watch my ‘24’, ‘Sex and the City’ and ‘Lost’ in peace. And it better be hooked up to Sky+ as well! If however, he happens to like some of the same shows as me, and it's that time every four years when the World cup is on and I actually care about football, then there's no harm in letting me cuddle up on our comfy sofa with him so we can actually get some couple time together. My future husband, please note that we'll both be busy professionals who are unlikely to have much ahem, 'personal time' together during the week, so if you'd rather spend your weekends in front of the TV, rather than in bed with me, then that's your prerogative, just don't let me hear you complaining about how you don’t get any! And please don't use the whole 'At least you know where I am. Would you rather I was out with my boys?' justification for your sports addiction. I don't care if you go out with your boys. You might as well go out with your boys for all the attention I'll get from you when there’s football on. In fact, I insist you go out with your boys, because I'm going to be making time for my girls. I'm a firm believer in having time apart from each other as well as time together .This brings me nicely to my next point.

I insist on some quality time together. We should try as much as possible to have dinner together and maybe have date night where it's just the two of us doing what we did in the beginning. A chance for me to get dolled up for him and to be treated like a princess again (though I’ve never dated a guy who treated me like a princess in the first place, hmm). Speaking of dinner; the food issue is a big one for me. Actually, the whole home maker issue is huge. While I can cook and clean with the best of them, I have every intention of working full-time and cannot see the logic of leaving the house and returning at the same time as my husband, and then he goes to put his feet up in front of whatever sporting event is on, while I slave away in the kitchen to cook dinner, and then wash up after while he catches the highlights of the very same game he watched earlier! No, no, no. It is not happening! We will split the work 50-50. Yes, you heard me, 50 -50! We will take it in turns to do all cooking and other housework! Before the lynch mob turns its attention to me, let me explain. He doesn't actually have to cook. He can order take away, hire a cook, take us out for dinner, I really don't mind. As long as there is food on the table when it is his turn to provide food, we will have no problems. If I go hungry however, that is a whole different matter; and I will not be held accountable for my actions.

Honey, have your toys as long as I can have mine. This will come as no surprise but my toys include shoes, bags and lots of clothes and in the interest of my husband's sanity and my safety (as Olawunmi so eloquently put it), I will have perfected the art of hiding new purchases as well as all evidence that might incriminate me. And when I wear that insanely beautiful Roland Mouret dress (no copies because we'll be able to afford the real thing) for dinner with him and he comments on how sexy it looks; I'll say with very real conviction: ' This old thing? Thank you baby. I must have lost weight since I bought it all those years ago which is why it fits so well'.

Finally, on the issue of video hos; sorry, I mean the 'works of art' flaunted on MTV Base. Please, he should watch to his heart's content. I have to admit to a certain fondness for Keifer Sutherland and Michael Ealy so all's fair in love and TV totty. As long as we don't compare each other or make each other feel insecure, then I think it's actually healthy to be able to 'appreciate' the female or male form in front of your partner.

I don't think I have been unreasonable ... so, what's the verdict? Am I resigned to a life alone?

A Random Thought I woke up with this morning

I have no idea why, but this morning I woke up thinking about people that put you down or constantly try and enter into competition with you.

I don’t know why I woke up with this thought because my brain doesn’t usually work in the mornings (why else would I have woken up one random morning singing ‘Ice Ice baby? ) and I have no idea why on this particular morning because I’m exhausted and feel fluey and even though it’s now 14:27pm, my brain still isn’t working.

Anyway, back to this thought of mine. I got to thinking about competitive friends with one particular friend in mind. As an aside, I realised while I was thinking about this that I don’t have many friends who I feel are competitive towards me so for that, I should be grateful. This friend of mine is absolutely lovely and while she is competitive and very successful by nature, it’s not something that is normally a feature of our relationship. However every once in a while, she’ll make some comment. Sometimes it’s as random a comment as ‘your laptop must be really old, it’s so much heavier than mine even though it is much smaller. Mine must be much better.’ and on that occasion I actually called her on it and said, ‘Yes, my laptop is old and your laptop is better but so what? Why do you feel the need to point it out? Are we having some laptop competition I am oblivious to?’ Often though, it comes up in reference to this pasta dish I gave her the recipe for and taught her how to make. Now she makes it very often and is sure to point out every time I make it, that hers tastes different (read better) and when she makes it amongst people who have tried both mine and hers, she’s makes a point of asking them which one is better. Now this isn’t a big deal at all, and it doesn’t bother me but it occurred to me yesterday that maybe it should. Because the problem with competition is that it is never friendly. Competition implies a winner and a loser and anyone who instigates conscious competition, does it with the intention of winning and hence proving their competition to be a loser. And this is what I have a problem with, someone trying to prove me to be a loser … why do they feel the need to do that? Please note that my problem isn’t with the fact that I can lose. I am not great at everything. In fact, I am bad at a lot of stuff.

The more I thought about it, the more I realised that I would never ever do the same to her or anyone else. If she truly believes her pasta dish is better, why does she need me to know it before she can be happy about it? Surely, the fact that it’s better should give her enough satisfaction. Hence my previous point, she only feels good about that particular achievement after she has made me feel bad. I know it seems trivial talking about food and I admit the whole thing is rather silly which is why I would never even bring it up with her. But to make my point, let’s talk about war. In the days of bloody wars complete with raping and pillaging, surely the fact that the winner had now acquired the losing territory was enough victory. For them to go to their prisons and start to tell their captives details of what they had done with their land and women would be low by any standard.

Now I am as competitive as the next person but honestly truly, it’s only with myself. I don’t give a damn how badly someone else is doing at work or how much they have let themselves go or how many failed relationships they have had because it doesn't make me better at my job, relationships or taking care of myself. In fact, it doesn't reflect on me in anyway. I am my own toughest critic and if I am not happy with myself or the state of my life, I know that I can only fix it from within. Whether I feel good or bad about myself however, I can only ever feel happy for other people’s successes.

Basically, I came to the conclusion that, I shouldn’t be offended by people putting me down, instead I should feel flattered that they feel the need to put themselves in the same competition as me.

I love this girl’s blog … painfully honest, extremely insightful and very funny at times. So in response to Overwhelmed Naija Babe’s tag, here goes:

‘Me’ in 80 Sentences

My favourite food is Thai green chicken curry. My favourite type of food is Thai, or maybe Caribbean, no, definitely Nigerian, or Greek, hmm I do love Italian. I can be indecisive. I’m 5’4” and a bit. People think I’m smaller. I’ve read more books than anyone else I know. Reading isn’t as much of a pleasure as is used to be. I wish James Patterson would take the time and write only really great thrillers like he used to, instead of churning out five mediocre books a year. I’ll only commit to watching a film if I think I’ll like it. I can’t help thinking that 2 hours is a long time to never get back. I’ll never walk out of a film I don’t like, no matter how boring it is. The only book I have never finished is ‘Perfume’. I have watched ‘The notebook’ about 25 times. I get shivers down my spine every time. I speak Greek. I wish I spoke Spanish. It’s a sexy language. I want to have twins; a boy and a girl. My favourite perfume is Stella McCartney’s Stella. It used to be Estee Lauder’s Pleasures. I desperately want to learn how to surf. I love the ocean. It could be because I’m a Pisces. I love cooking. I hate cleaning but I’m obsessively clean. I hate shopping but I love clothes. I hate the sales but I like a bargain.

I’m always making lists. I think Helena Christiansen is the most beautiful woman in the world. Sexiest man is a toss up between Josh Hartnett and my new favourite guy Wentworth Miller. I like my bum and hate my hips. I like my hair but hate my skin. I think I’m a good person. I think most people consider me to be a good person. My biggest flaw is that I hold other people to the same high standards I expect from myself. Most people would agree. I make the best chocolate brownies in the world. I shared the recipe with my sister and cousin so I guess they make pretty good brownies too. I would love to adopt an Indonesian baby. I have two tattoos. I’ll probably get more. My mum understands me more than anybody else. I thank God everyday for my family because they’re pretty amazing. I don’t go to church as much as I should. I’m making the effort to go more. I wish I could play the guitar. My longest relationship lasted 4 months. It shouldn’t have lasted more than 4 days. I wish I had half as much imagination as JK Rowling does.

I can’t imagine my life without the music of Michelle Branch, Lene Marlin, Boyz II Men, Lionel Richie, Bryan Adams, Damien Rice, Dru Hill and Christina Aguilera. I want to be a book editor when I grow up. I never wanted to be rich. My favourite city in the whole wide world is New York. If I could go anywhere tomorrow, it would be Hawaii. I’m not scared of spiders. I’m terrified of snakes. I have a recurring nightmare that the day before my wedding I realise I’m not in love with my fiancée and I don’t want to marry him. I wait until the wedding day to tell him. I think I might have issues with commitment. I wish I didn’t have issues with commitment. I’m very sarcastic. I can’t help it. I don’t think I’ve ever had a best friend. I don’t mind that I’ve never had a best friend. I don’t wear yellow gold. I cry when I am frustrated. Funnily enough, the only other time I cry is when I’m faced with examples of basic human decency. I always wear trainers. I love that I grew up in Nigeria. I had an amazing childhood. I’ve never been in love.

I really wish Sex and the City hadn’t finished. Grey’s anatomy is good compensation. What about Friends? There’s nothing to compensate for Friends. I read too many magazines. I’ve got my mum addicted to magazines. I like baking even more than I like cooking. I once dated an Indian boy. I wish I could take good photographs. I don’t swear. I have never seen any of the Lord of the Rings or Star Wars movies.

What is your deal breaker?

Can you remember your biggest crush? That person who’d make your day simply by smiling at you. That person who had the ability to incite several hours of conversations with your friends simply by saying hello. ‘He said hi! (Cue high pitched voice and irrational excitement), what do you think he meant by that?’ So imagine that your wildest dreams came true and you got together, what would it take for you to end it? For you to decide that he isn’t the stuff of dreams after all?

I was kinda awkward in my first year of university. I can’t stay I had my style or look sorted yet, and I had taken the plunge just before I started and cut my hair short. Yup, I was awkward to say the least. This guy called Chris lived in the halls of residence next to mine and unlike me, he seemed to know exactly who he was and what he was about. He was tall and lanky, with very dark hair and the most piercing blue eyes. He had the whole surf style going on for him and the most genuine smile. Long story short, my friend told him I thought he was cute and we would smile and say hi to each other. I had the biggest, hugest crush on him. Not only was he gorgeous but he was so nice. However, like most crushes, we didn’t get past a few hi’s that year and I didn’t see him much in my second year.

In my third year, I spent the first semester on an exchange program in Victoria, Canada and came back in my second semester. My sister said to me almost as soon as I got back, ‘this really hot guy that looks just like Freddie Prinze Jnr. thought I was you. Then when I told him I wasn’t, he was asking all about you’. Now, I didn’t think for one second about Chris because honestly, I hadn’t thought about him in over a year. I no longer had a crush on him. A couple of nights later, I went out and Chris came up to me and started chatting to me … I was in seventh heaven. I wasn’t seeing anyone, and all the memories of my greatest ever crush came flooding back. He was still gorgeous, and now I was finding out that he was also funny and smart and interesting and witty and generous (well, he did buy me several drinks). Towards the end of the night, after we’d danced and talked, he said to me, ‘I’d love to kiss you’ and naturally I obliged.

That’s when it all went downhill … he couldn’t kiss if his life depended on it! Now I know that brings up questions like ‘what makes someone a good or a bad kisser?’ Well, first of all, I’ve been told and I know that I’m an amazing kisser, so if I’m not enjoying a kiss then I know it’s not me! Let me try and describe the way he kissed. He went for it with a lot of zeal and put his entire tongue in my mouth with no rhyme or technique to it. It was like kissing a washing machine! Now before I’m accused of being shallow, we met up a few more times and each time we kissed, I would cross my fingers and toes and hope that his technique had improved since we last kissed. I was so desperate that I wouldn’t have given a damn about how he had learned to kiss. No such luck though!

I love kissing, and for me, it’s the most physical I’m going to be getting for a while so it has to be good! I can spend hours kissing somebody I love kissing. Besides, if he can’t kiss, it doesn’t bode well for any future physical relationship. And I really wasn’t in the mood to teach a 21 year old how to kiss so needless to say it ended before it began. Even though he was perfect in every other way.

So, I guess my deal breaker is a bad kisser. What’s yours?

Some Girls…

So, you know those girls right? The type who has been in a relationship since they discovered the opposite sex at the age of 12 - Yes, I know for some it was much earlier than that but for the sake of decency; we'll stick with 12. Anyway, they're now in their mid-twenties or nudging at their late twenties and they've been in at least four long term relationships, had countless flings and have 'been in love' God-knows-how-many times? You know the type; they find themselves alone for barely a couple of months in between relationships and complain that they feel lonely; 'after all what's the point of all the great experiences in life if you don't have anyone to share them with?' We're all friends with the type; we only hear from them when they've broken up with the most recent 'love of their life' and as soon as they meet their next 'soul mate', we're discarded to the furthest depths of their memories' along with winter clothes in the summer, feather boas and ugly shoes, except of course those items are aired more frequently than our friendship is. We all know the type. My question is; when did 'that type' become the norm???

I'm 24; I've had 3 relationships; none of them meaningful and none of them lasting very long. I just don't meet that many guys that make me want to give up my freedom. And why is that so unusual? I thought that the whole point of love is that it's supposed to be rare and hence; special. I'm still young, I have my entire life to settle down. I've had a few flings; some of them ill-advised attempts at making something out of nothing and others a genuine appreciation of time spent with someone with whom a relationship would never work. That doesn't make me easy ... in fact, I am anything but. I want to see the world and I'm more than happy to get going on my own, or with a few friends who I can stand to spend long amounts of time with. I want to be great at whatever I decide to do, I don't mind that I'm not one hundred percent sure what that is and most of all I like the freedom I believe I have earned. The freedom to be and do and say whatever the hell I like for no other reason other than the happiness it bestows upon the cockles of my heart.

Now I know this is the point at which some women reading will be shaking their heads, feeling sorry for me and thinking: 'She is too selfish and if she is not careful, then she will become set in her ways and then (shock) never get a man". The guys who are reading probably think I'm a player and sound like a bit of a good time girl. Well, to those people, I want to say I'm single by choice. I get a lot of relationship offers and here's a secret; guys actually like girls who don't depend on them for their very existence. I'll also have you know that I have every intention of settling down and I'm happy to admit I want children and all that good stuff but what is the rush?! I truly believe that for better or worse, one day I'm going to meet somebody who I'm going to spend the rest of my life with and as I have every intention of living for a very long time (God willing), I repeat; What is the rush?

What really puzzles me is when 'those girls' became the norm and I became the radical? Those girls who I at best pity and at worst, want to shake and tell to stop being so pathetic, are now everywhere and I can't figure when it happened. Is it age? Is it something that is lying stagnant in all of us women waiting to be activated by some traumatic event like your younger sister getting married before you? (Please, please note the sarcasm with which that sentence was meant). Is it life experience? Is life really better as part of a twosome and am I just deluding myself into believing I am happy? Or is it that really, truly, every singleton only pretends to be like me until they find a man and thereby become a part of the privileged club that 'they' belong to?

Well they can have their precious club and everything that goes with it. I have no desire to become a card carrying member of the ‘I'm-a-mere-shell-of-a-woman-without-a-man’ posse. I'm just going to enjoy whatever is in store for me for now and let tomorrow (and hence potential man and child issues) take care of itself.

Notes

1. In the interest of fairness, I know a lot of men are just as bad. If you know any, please feel free to name and shame them but I personally haven't come across many.
2. For the guys, I don't hate men. I like men, I enjoy the company of men, I love having conversations with some men, I one day hope to settle down with a man and have his twins and spend the rest of my life with him etc; I don't however, need men/ a man.
3. For the women, I'm not against your having boyfriends/ meeting an amazing guy/ settling down nor am I jealous of any of the above. I am happy for you! All I'm saying is there is a lot more to you than being somebody's girlfriend/wife and you should enjoy being by yourself if you find yourself in that situation. After all, no man will ever love / respect/ know you like you deserve to be if you don't first love/ respect/ know yourself.

Photo

I Love Noni Moss :-D