March 2012: What? Why? How?

March 2012 would be over in a few hours but there are questions it failed to answer and hopefully April 2012 would do justice to them.


• What is the difference between Peak Milk (Holland) and Peak Milk (Nigeria)?

• Why isn't the violence in Syria getting attention?

• Will the KONY2012 supporters succeed in pasting KONY2012 posters all over the world as planned on April 20th?

These are not questions but...

Indomie Noodles, If you want to reduce the quantity of your super pack, feel free. But remove the "net weight 120g" before you get sued.

R.I.P Osaze Osifo. I had no idea who this guy was but from the calibre of people that spoke about his life & what was said, this man was must have been great.

Finally watched KONY2012 video and realised all I read was true...wonderful editing.

And Fernando Torres scored this month...thrice

The [D] Project:: Adventure of a Homeless Girl (pt. 3 of 13)

Part 1: [Any] Needs A Favour

Part 2: This is [D]

[D] had been in Lagos before. She was around for few days, years ago, to participate in the Lagos audition of Nigeria Idol. She believed she had the voice of a sparrow but the judges thought it was that of a duck...she was sent back home. The NYSC programme brought her back to Lagos but she had the issue of accommodation to tackle. Her aunt promised to help her out despite she was married and wasn’t based in Lagos. She left camp to stay with a friend she made there in a private hostel, Skyfield, while she waited for her aunt to travel down in Lagos. She had an experience of how Lagos babes could behave which she wasn’t cool with. Her aunt was around days later and linked her up with an estate agent to hook her up with an apartment. 

The aunt left the country before the agent could get a place she liked. Since it wasn’t her money being spent she had a ‘cost isn’t a hindrance’ mentality. The agent would check her at Skyfield and drive her round Lagos under the pretext they were on an apartment hunt. He finally got a place for her, a one room apartment, and by then he confessed he had developed feelings towards her. Those ‘I can’t explain how it happened but I’ve fallen for you’ type of feeling. He made a suggestion before he handed her the key.

This ESTATE AGENT told her he was also homeless [ironic]. He was also in desperate need of an apartment and would like if they stayed together while he searched for another one for himself. She wasn't cool with him or the idea. Her refusal made him retrieve the key and left her homeless. He said he would refund the money but not to her, her aunt, who wasn't in the country. Skyfield was no longer an option because the babe she stayed with had to leave.

Her aunt linked her with one of her husband’s friend living in Lagos for her to stay for few weeks till she returned to sort her accommodation problem. The husband’s friend wanted to f*ck her but that was after he spent a lot on her. I know that wasn’t enough to justify trying to fuck a girl, but it was safe for a girl who looked like sex and stayed alone with a single man not to make outrageous demands plus accept expensive gifts. To the ladies, generosity was a man giving you what you need like food not spoiling you with jewels. She said he wasn't successful in his attempts which infuriated him to the point of scheming with his friends to rape her. She found out from his phone discussion with his friend and packed out immediately. Once again she was homeless.

She made contact with a long lost relative, a successful single woman in her 40s. She was also an official in a church and had everything going on except a husband which she needed [desperately]. She had a boyfriend though. He was younger and jobless. She found nothing wrong with that arrangement; after all it would be acceptable if they switched roles. [D]’s presence made her uncomfortable. She had accepted her to stay over the phone with no idea she had grown up to look like sex. She accused her of stealing her perfume and that was her reason to justify why she kicked her out. Once again, she was homeless.

[D] left, boarded a bus to no where, crying, when the chic that sat beside her took pity.  [D] explained her predicament and the chic decided to help. The chic told her she had travelled from Enugu to stay with her boyfriend and invited her to stay with them. What she didn’t tell [D] was the boyfriend rented a one-room apartment. The fact was the chic had no idea because she saw her boyfriend for the first time with [D]. Prior to then their relationship had existed only on Facebook. [D] was uncomfortable with the arrangement. She slept on the floor while the couple used the small size mattress. The boyfriend was also uncomfortable. Days later they all had to leave. [D] was once again homeless.

And now, she was with me. It was my turn. She boarded a bus from the chic’s place down to see me. After hearing her adventure I was convinced this babe was determined to stay over. Minutes later she made me talk to her whole family in Delta state on phone [except her dad]. The mum thanked me for accommodating her daughter [as if I had agreed]. They made me appear like an angel. [D] agreed it would only be for a few days and her aunt was bound to return soon since.

There was no doubt [D] was comfortable immediately she stepped into my crib and Stamford Bridge. Even with the idea that we had to sleep in the same room, same bed, and the possibility for some sexually explicit sh!t going down. With what she had been through I might have been perceived as harmless. To be honest, I had no sexual intention. Yea, she looked like sex but I had pride sex couldn’t control. 

While she unpacked the little she had she mentioned bringing the rest of her stuff the following day. “Where are they?” I asked. She mentioned an area not far from my place. That got me confused because she never mentioned that in her story. She made it appear I was the last/only option which in fact she had a placed she stay but decided to leave because it was more of a ghetto and felt deserved more. Rationalizing from her story, her act including calling her mum to thank me, I knew this girl was deceptive. I had this feeling she was out for the highest bidder and self-cantered. It wasn’t late to kick her out but decided to let her stay although I had a feeling I would regret it.

The last question I asked was, “Are you a nice person?” 

Part 4: You Can Only Lie WIth Words 
Part 5: Some People Don't Want To Be Happy 
Part 6: Our Skin, Our History 
Part 7: Pot Calling Kettle Black 
Part 8: Will You Marry You? 
Part 9: The Date 
Part 10: Time To Go 
Part 11: REALLY, Time To Go 
Part 12: You Can't Please Anyone

What Is Beauty?

I added a girl on my BBM and... damn! no story necessary just look at the pix below and comment. Tell me how to define beauty because I'm lost here. Have it in mind the pix was taken in a BEAUTY salon/palour and she was wearing a smile. Remember, they say smiles make people beautiful. Add all of those together and define beauty.

The...female in the picture deleted me as a contact. I asked if she was the person on her display picture and she replied 'yes'. I can't remember what I said next but I know I was so honest that she had to delete me as a contact..

The [D] Project: This is [D] (pt. 2 of 13)

Continued From Part 1: [Any] Needs A Favour

I called [D] on the phone with one purpose and that was to fix a time we could meet. What I knew about her wasn’t much. I knew she was posted to Lagos camp for NYSC orientation. I knew she wasn’t based in Lagos, I knew she needed accommodation, and there was a possibility she could stay over at my place for a few days. That was why I needed to see her, hear her talk, and observe some non-verbal cues. I needed to put my sixth sense to the test to determine if I should go ahead with the arrangement. Fact is I don’t trust females [easily] and I have a simple rule; honesty for females does not come out from their mouth. A question I needed an answer to was where she stayed for over a month, which was from the day she passed out of orientation camp to the point she realised she needed accommodation. I needed an explanation; either she stayed in a hotel or...wherever. If I was satisfied after the end of our conversation she could move in over the weekend but there was a condition attached, a condition she would have to agree to.

The phone rang for a while before she answered. I introduced myself like I always do, “This is Adeshina Babatunde...” She said she was expecting my call. It took a while before she said, “You sound feminine”. I told her I was expecting that. I’ve lost count of the number of times people said I sound feminine [some admit it was sexy though]. I asked to know when she would be free to come over to my place for us to meet. She replied she was available the following day and would come over. That was cool with me because it was a public holiday, Wednesday 31^st of August 2011, the day after Eid celebration.

The next day, [D] called [several times] because she got lost on her way to my place. That supported her claim she wasn’t based in Lagos. After constantly buzzing my phone with "I'm lost...I don't know where I am" I suggested she stayed where she was so I would come pick her up from there. As ‘faith’ would have it she found herself stranded in front of a Mr. Biggs restaurant close to my place. Her location was perfect for my intent, meeting her at a neutral place was waaaaay better than inviting her to my crib when I knew there was a possibility I would tell her the arrangement wasn’t possible. I could even walk in/out of the place if I didn’t find her attractive without her knowing I was the person she had been calling.

30 minutes later I stepped into the fast food restaurant and spotted her immediately. She had to be the one in the virtually empty joint. She sat in a chair close to the entrance with two bags on the floor. Two school bags stuffed with more than enough items to make them look like camping bags. I guessed they had to be clothes and stuffs but why she did carry them? I remembered our previous discussion did not include her moving in on that day. All I requested for was an opportunity for us to meet.

I walked closer and introduced myself. She did not wait for me to occupy the chair at the other end of the table before she got on her feet. She said, “Let’s go” like I had delayed her. Before I could stop her she was already out of the door. Do you want to know what she looked like? Of course you do. She looked like SEX. Don’t misunderstand that as being fucking beautiful. All I’m saying was she had that appearance and physical attribute a [typical] guy saw and what came next was the thought of fucking her. Forget about the colour of her eyes, shape of her nose, and all those attributes other writers might bore you with. Just imagine SEX.

She was out of the building waiting for me while I thought about how to stick with the intention I came with. I had a strange feeling this babe would definitely want to spend the night [or two more], she came prepared. My sixth sense told me “Ade, now was the time to back out. Get out, take a bike and go home. No one was indispensable and she would definitely find somewhere else to stay”. I kept staring at her through the glass wall. Her ass view was like, “Guy, don’t tell me you don’t want to take this home”. Yea, she had ASS she looked like SEX, fuck it. If she was going to stay I had a condition attached which I was yet to discuss. Due to circumstances beyond my control, the only available place for her to stay was in Stamford Bridge. She would have to stay under the same roof, in the same bed with me. With what I saw it seemed the condition I had for her was now up to me to make a choice. I asked myself, ‘Can I stay under the same roof, in the same bed with her in Stamford Bridge? Where more matches were won than lost.

Part 3: Adventure of a Homeless Girl 
Part 4: You Can Only Lie With Words 
Part 5: Some People Don't Want To Be Happy 
Part 6: Our Skin, Our History 
Part 7: Pot Calling Kettle Black 
Part 8: Will You Marry You? 
Part 9: The Date 
Part 10: Time To Go 
Part 11: REALLY, Time To Go 
Part 12: You Can't Please Anyone

The [D] Project: [Any] Needs A Favour (pt. 1 of 13)

I was in the living room, watching MTV and chatting on my Blackberry device with [Any]. [Any] could be regarded as my ex that I never dated...it was a ‘it's complicated’ kind of arrangement. The last time I saw her was the day before I left for NYSC camp in Adamawa state which was over 2 months ago [and counting]. From what she typed I knew she was about to ask me a question...

Prior to the last time we met we had not been on ‘communication terms’. I was [always] ready to talk but she didn’t want to listen. If there was anyone that would have made me interested in serving in Lagos it was her because I couldn’t imagine a year apart from just seeing her. Since she was avoiding me I was ready to be posted anywhere away from everybody especially her. My service year would be one of self-discovery and hopefully an opportunity to detox myself from the [remnant] feelings I had. The week before posting were released she began to answer my calls and invited me over to her house. I saw that as a green light and I had a change of mind. I wanted to serve in Lagos more than ever. I was in her house the day I found out I was posted to Adamawa state while she would remain in Lagos for service. I was devastated [I ain’t gonna lie]. Things were about to turn out into something beautiful and NYSC posting was about to fuck me up. I walked out that day leaving behind my assurance of redeploying. She was cool with that and made me believe she looked forward to my return. She even borrowed some amount of money promising to pay back when I returned [by the way I'm still waiting for bank alert]. I became determined to return after the 3 weeks orientation camp. It might sound stupid but the feeling I had for a girl motivated me to redeploy. I hadn’t seen her since I returned. I wanted to but she kept playing the ‘busy’ card which was a prelude to her totally ignoring me. The reason I redeployed didn’t give a shit I did.

...I told her to go ahead with the question. She asked to know if there was any unoccupied room in my [father's] house. That was an unusual question. A girl who had avoided me since my return asked if there was an unoccupied room in my home. My first guess was she needed a place to crash but the context in which she asked suggested it was for someone else. But seriously, it would have been great if my-ex-that-I-never-dated and probably had feelings for was living with me in the same house. What a thought. Obviously there wasn’t any unoccupied room but if someone needed a place to crash for a day or two something could be worked out. She said it wasn't for her to completely clear all doubts but a FEMALE FRIEND.

"Well, as long as she was fine, sexy, and single I wouldn't mind. She could even stay in Stamford Bridge,” I typed jokingly.

I asked to know the story behind the friend, if I knew her. She said it was a girl she met in camp and was having serious accommodation problem. She made it sound really urgent and I had seconds to let her know if it was possible or not. She added it would be for a few days while she searched for her own place.

I would have asked why her friend couldn’t stay with her but I knew [Any]. She respected her privacy to allow another girl cramp her lifestyle. I told her I would assist and by that I meant she could stay in my crib for a while until she found a place which I hoped would be within a week.

I asked her personal questions about her friend and she failed to provide satisfactory answers. My fear of allowing girls sleep over was that I would wake up to find them abscond with half of my properties. In other words I wanted to know if she had itchy fingers in camp. Her answers only led to burning questions and I was at the point of changing my mind. It appeared they never got on a personal level and her decision to help out was because it would cost her nothing. Not time, money, and privacy. All she had to do was point to my direction for her to walk towards but on the surface it would appear she cared. I knew if I permit the girl to stay in my house it would be because I wanted to help out someone I didn’t know. [Any] NEVER did one thing that deserved me assisting her in time of need. Like I said, the last time I saw [Any] was the day before I left for camp and since I returned I had received the silent treatment. I had to rationalize why she answered my calls in the first place before leaving for camp. My answer was because she needed to borrow money [that she would never return] from me. The last time [Any] text me out of the blue was a week before her birthday. She text and invited me over after I called to come over the following day which I honoured. I realized her hair was a mess and she had a friend's sister's wedding to attend in few days. With that information it seemed she only invited me over to spend on her. I made up my mind I wasn't going to spend a penny then because the motivation for inviting me was too selfish and exploitative. She didn't ask me to in the first place but I knew her too well.

I requested for the girl’s phone number and would prefer to talk to her directly. So far I had a conditional yes. Her staying with me would depend on the result of the assessment I intend to have after spending time to talk to her. All I need was few hours with her and I would make my decision.

I called her minutes later. Her name was [D].

Part 2: This is [D] 
Part 3: Adventure of a Homeless Girl 
Part 4: You Can Only Lie With Words 
Part 5: Some People Don't Want To Be Happy 
Part 6: Our Skin, Our History 
Part 7: Pot Calling Kettle Black 
Part 8: Will You Marry You? 
Part 9: The Date 
Part 10: Time To Go 
Part 11: REALLY, Time To Go 
Part 12: You Can't Please Anyone

[Not] Wanking In Vain

I saw this bill [below] on my way to work this morning and decided to share it. ARE YOU INTERESTED IN BEING A SPERM/EGG DONOR OR SURROGATE? I believe those unemployed should cease this opportunity to make a bit to survive. You get to work in a [sperm] bank although you might have to leave the 'sperm' part out when you tell your friends. The beauty of it was you get paid for doing what you do on a daily- masturbating. The surrogate part for females should fetch nothing less than six figures per conception. You could go for a million if attached to a wealthy childless family.

I know my Nigerians. They ask too many questions when scared. Someone speculated it was an occult responsible for such ads. That the whole sperm/egg donor ish was a coverup. The sperm/egg were used in sacrifices, also other body parts they had access to. There might be truth to it, who knows? I'll suggest depositing the sperm directly to the customers [like banks do] and not...you know, a tube or whatever.

DISCLAIMER: I have nothing to do with the advert but I would be interested in the outcome if you do respond.

Daughters of Eve in "Art Attack"

Back in 2006 I was at [what I regard as] the highest peak in my creativity [yet]. I wrote books, comics, with ease. I was a huge fan of South Park and created my characters inspired by the cartoon. I called mine "Daughters of Eve". I was going through some of my old materials and stumbled across this one. It was titled "Art Attack".

Osaze Osifo and the Other Guy with Certificates

“I noticed…how one's life could be summarised in numbers [after death]. I know in people's hearts; family and friends, [the individual] was probably more, and adjectives would be used to qualify [the] life. But to others [the] life was quantifiable in numbers. You see an obituary in the papers and below the person's picture was the name. Below that was usually numbers, date of birth to date. You could also see the list of certificates and awards but our interest was how many he was able to achieve. It was as if it was easier for us to come to terms with the numbers in the person's life than the type of life they lived and the legacy left behind. Or maybe most of us do not leave behind something worth writing about and only deserved prayers. “May His/Her Soul Rest In Peace”.” 

From “The Engineer”

On the 9^th of March, 2012 I was reading a copy of the day’s edition of the Punch Newspaper. I got to a page with an article “I Really Like This Guy Oz’ written by Poju Oyemade.  

I really like this guy Oz

I met Osaze in 1978, we both entered International School Ibadan (I.S.I) that year. As fate will have it we were both put into the same class 1C. I had just come from a primary school known as MaryHill Convent School Ibadan while Osaze came from Staff School University of Ibadan. MaryHill didn't have as many students enrolling as Staff School did in I.S.I at that time.

The first day his name dawned on me was through an announcement made by a teacher 4 weeks after we got into school, it was an announcement of the results of a just concluded test. The teacher ended by saying 3 students scored 25/25 and they are Osaze Osifo, Teju Oloko (now Alonge) and my humble-self. From that day we became friends.

I was later moved by the school authorities to another arm the next academic year : class 1D The students in that class appeared more brilliant than those in 1C with the likes of Funso Sobande, David Oyewole, Edward Okali and a few others. I had a glimpse into the thought process of Osaze from that early age of 12. He said he was going to approach the school authorities requesting that he be moved to that arm too. He felt it will be more intellectually stimulating for him.

Osaze and i later became roommates for 2 years in University of Lagos Mariere Hall . He was an absolutely brilliant fellow. Our life paths were divergent and i wasn't really in touch with him for a long period of time but i kept a tab on his progress. He was very determined and focussed. He was inquisitive about everything. He wanted to understand how things worked. Even as a Pastor whenever i sat to talk with Osaze, i always left wondering how he knew some of the things he said. He thought deeply about  everything. He was a friend whom whenever we talked i gained some insight. He was very conscious of life's journey and saw the big picture very early.

Some months back after a group of us classmates had lunch at Yellow Chilli he said some things in our 10minute chat that made me realize why his thoughts were so penetrative. Osaze did a lot of self appraisal and personal assessment. You could see his intellectual integrity, if he was wrong he would admit it to himself and make the adjustments. He was brilliant but didn't engage in self flattery. In our last discussion he said "you know when we were in our thirties we thought we knew it all". As much as his intellectual brilliance formed the core of his success he remained a learner and not a knower.

Osaze always tried to help everyone he knew particularly when you were qualified. He was true to his roots. Always willing to share knowledge. If anyone from our past mentioned that Osaze didn't offer a helping hand you were sure there were deeper issues at play than were being told. He genuinely loved his friends and devoted a substantial part of his emotional life towards them. I remember an old school mate who was looking for an old classmate of ours; we both agreed the one person who would know where he was was Osaze. If he didn't, no one else would.

If you were out there in the real arena of life as a leader, a builder, fighting to do something significant you found a soul mate in him. Osaze simply got it. He knew the emotions of the journey. He was a global thinker.

When last week Wednesday I saw a missed call from a mutual friend Tony Youdowei, with a text message saying, "when you see this Poju please call" it was quite unusual. I picked my phone and called, as I did Osaze's face flashed in my heart, that something might be wrong. His words were Osaze is gone. I dropped the phone absorbed it and felt i was okay. Two nights later I woke up at about 2am, sat on my stairs thought about him and broke into tears. I later on went to jog at 6am only to stop halfway on the road to cry. Then I realised that I really liked Osaze and I had lost a real friend and someone I loved.”

This had to be one of the most honest, heartfelt, obituaries [if I should regard it as one] I had read. I had no idea who Osaze Osifo was prior to that day and after reading that piece I felt like meeting him. The fact that I couldn’t make that happen made it more touching. It made me feel the world had lost someone. I flipped to the next page and read more obituaries dedicated to this man. The caliber of people that had sponsored pages made it evident he was influential and none had degrees, B.Sc, Ms.C, PhD, below his name. It gave the feeling his most valuable qualification was his name.

Osaze Osifo

Pages after I read another obituary. The type I was familiar with but opposite to the ones I had seen pages earlier. I didn’t know the guy as well and I ain’t trying to disrespect the dead but come on, all those certificates for what: PhD, MS.c, FCIB, FCIS, FNIM, FinstD, FiMGT.

The Other Guy

Fact is these people would be missed by someone and the best I can do was to say rest in peace and may Heaven accept you.

Last Nigeria Virgin (pt. 2 Red Rose)

Continued from Last Nigeria Virgin (pt. 1 Green Rose) <--You can click on it

I had friends that disvirgined girls and one word to summarize their experiences was ‘bloody’. I remember one time my guy brought a player over for her debut and they left the room with blood all over the bed sheet. It was as if an animal had been slaughtered. He did the job and had to wash the bed spread alone which wasn’t a nice scene. Now, it was supposed to be my turn. My girlfriend who claimed she was a virgin ran into the bathroom after a round of sex. She didn’t bleed…she ran into the bathroom and closed the door. I didn’t know what was going on in there but I knew the last thing I wanted to see was blood all over my floor. I could hear she was in pain and requested for Panadol which I didn’t have. I suggested getting one at a store a minute from my house but she told me to be patient. She stepped out, no blood, just looking worried. She told me she was feeling pain above the left side of her abdomen and I must have really gone deep. I had to be caring, I had to block off the voice inside me asking why this supposed virgin girlfriend of mine didn’t bleed. I had read not all virgins bleed but this virgin wasn’t tight as well. The chic I wrote about in “Bitch You are Selfish” was way tighter even after countless matches. My thought was interrupted when she said my name.

She told me something I heard for the first time. She talked about reading up somewhere that a girl not disvirgined properly will NEVER enjoy sex. She linked that to the pain she was experiencing and I probably didn’t disvirgin her properly. She suggested we should go for a second round but this time I should hit the spot and she would bleed. I had nothing to lose and with what I had experienced within that last hour she also had nothing to lose. I wore my boot and about to get on the pitch when she suggested I fuck her against the wall. Let me rephrase that, “carry me and fuck me against the wall”. This was a girl that out to make me believe I disvirgined her minutes earlier and now wants the second time she supposedly had sex to be against the wall. At that rate the tenth time she had sex might be while scuberdiving. I tried my best to lift her and take her to cloud nine but the shit wasn’t comfortable. I stopped and adopted conventional porn styles. After that round, I had to go one more just to make sure she was properly disvirgined. Despite the pin point accuracy of my penis I still wasn’t able to make her bleed but I went in with ease. With sex out of the way it was time to talk.

We were silent for a while until she asked why she didn’t bleed. I took that as a rhetorical question. A friend of had been in a similar situation and the girl confessed she lost her virginity the previous week. I hoped she did the same. This my babe stuck to the belief she was a virgin and I disvirgined her. I kept numb on that issue and talked about something else. She called me the next day and accused me of not being caring, that I should have called to ask how she was feeling. She began to frustrate me as she kept playing the ‘is it because you have disvirgined me’ card. I knew how dangerous it was if she deceived herself I was her first. One of my friends was once in such situation. Every time he had an argument with his girlfriend she said, “I curse you with the blood of my virginity I shed on your bed” despite he wasn’t her first. I wasn’t going to let that type of ish happen to me. I got fed up and told her the reasons for the sudden change in behaviour. I told her I always believed she wasn’t one and gave her an opportunity to be upfront, to confess. I gave her the evidence I had but left out the part of her pussy not being tight, that would be my Joker. The following day I did not hear from her. I received a call few days later from her mum.

Her mum told me she saw her daughter crying and she explained what had happened between us. She told me her daughter was indeed a virgin and she could defend her integrity anytime. She was disappointed why I claimed to love the daughter and not trust her. The fact was I never said I loved her but I didn’t tell the mum. The line cut off while she was talking and I called her back to keep hearing why her daughter’s past relationship never worked out because she deprive the boyfriend of sex. She also said her daughter requested to be taken to a doctor to know why she didn’t bleed. I was in a very uncomfortable situation. That was the first time a mother talked to me about having sex with her daughter. It wasn’t a call to insult me but to consider what her daughter said and hopefully make the relationship work. It was like she didn’t feel bad with me fucking her daughter.

The phone call did more harm than good. From that moment I knew the relationship had taken the wrong turn. I don’t mind girls telling their mums about their relationships but there should be no direct link between the mum and the boyfriend. It would only put more pressure on the guy. I made her understand I didn’t appreciate her mum calling me while she defended herself, saying her mum forced her to talk after seeing her in tears. She mentioned telling her mum not to call me but couldn’t explain how she got both my phone numbers. I began to drift away. I couldn’t stand a relationship whose foundation was built on a lie and parental pressure. I saw her days later, she wanted to know the deal between us. Like we were waiting for the first person to voice “it’s over”. While she kept voicing how heartless I was she mentioned she finally bled but didn’t want to tell me. That was almost a week after we had sex her hymen decided to break. That was the final straw and I made her know I would rather believe in fairies than her virginity. I asked her to explain why she wasn’t tight but she avoided that like she didn’t hear. We were in a public place and she began to try stuffs to annoy me. She said she wanted to see me “EXPLODE”. I kept laughing because I knew that wasn’t going to happen. I’m sure [Any] would have told her her actions would only give me something to write about and guess what, it did. 

Like I said in the closing paragraph of“I ‘Just’ Lost it Last Month”

”…Girls, PLEASE, there is no need to add insult to it and lie you haven't fucked. The fact that you are fucking discreetly says a lot already and don't try to be honourable about it. Don’t say shit like “I only have sex with my boyfriend”, “I don’t have sex within a year of dating”, or “I've decided to stop having sex because it messes up relationships”. [FUCK is FUCK]. With that said, "Fuck your guts for uttering those words, BITCH!" 

Last Nigeria Virgin [pt. 1 Green Rose]

Once again, I had one of those relationships that ended before it had begun. I know some girls that wouldn’t be surprised. Shirley once said I need to free myself from those types of females. I tried running away from them, but now it seemed I’ve only been moving on a treadmill. I had decided to stay off girls, got tired of doing the same thing and expecting a different result. I was on way home when this lady approached me and after a small chat she requested for my phone number. Within the past few weeks, she wasn't  the only one to take such a step. I think she was the third. The difference this time was I also requested for hers. As I walked away I assured her I would call her later that day. That might not be a big deal to some people, but it was to me. I was ‘affiliated’ with many females, and my phone book was a trash of digits. I scroll through, and I see names like; Chioma (Akoka/she likes colour blue), Chioma (fair & loves rock music), Chioma (Imo babe with huge ass/Surulere)...even with the tags, I still found it difficult matching the faces with names, so I never call until I experienced an epiphany. The only ladies I remembered were those on my call list. I called her that evening and requested we hang out the coming weekend.

I have an impatient attitude towards girls and relationships. I tell me people, my life isn’t a soap opera so don’t expect me to wait till next week to say what’s on my mind, and I don’t expect the girl to wait for the right moment to let me know what was on hers. When I see a girl I find attractive I tell her like it is, and if she wasn’t interested in me, I move ahead before feelings got involved. After all, I wasn’t asking her to marry me so making a decision to date shouldn’t be that difficult or need her to consult friends.  

From the phone conversation we had I sensed she was interested. I only hoped she didn’t begin to build walls around her because I wasn’t ready to raise a finger to make them tumble. I don’t appreciate girls playing with red/green lights. We met that Saturday, had fun, and on Sunday she was in Stamford Bridge. Slow down…we didn’t have sex. We were in my bed gisting until I kissed her. With no permission I kissed her and she kissed back. Base one [check], Base two [check], Base three…[hold on, I’m a Virgin].

I had nothing against virgins. My surprise was because I had no idea she was one from the discussion we’ve had so far. I know it wasn’t written on the forehead, but I can’t possibly have her half naked less than 24 hours after our first date just to hear she was one. I retrospected about the past discussions we’ve had to see if she left signals…nope! She sensed I was distracted as my actions became passive and asked if I had anything against virgins. I had nothing against virgins EXCEPT the egocentric attitude displayed when they glorified their status. You know the saying, when all you got was a hammer you see every problem as a nail. Virgins were like that (hammer). Their virginity was made the sun in which their world evolved. I led her into my past experiences with virgins. If I call them and act all romantic they believe it was because I was yet to have sex with them. If I don’t call and act romantic they claim my sudden change in behaviour was because I wasn’t getting any. The most annoying part was when they used sex to motivate and say shit like, “I can’t wait to make love to you. Just be patient, one day you’ll enjoy all of me”.

She laughed it off, claiming she was different. I took that as a lie, we don’t laugh at lies. From that moment on I thought the relationship would take a different turn, more talk less action, but I was wrong. She was comfortable with us doing EVERYTHING except sex. The kissing became intense; the blow job paid off cause the head I gave was correct. I went a step further when I fingered her and she enjoyed it. She was moaning in ecstasy. I had fingered virgins before and getting the tip of my finger inside her pussy was difficult. Definitely impossible without her in pain but this babe didn’t feel that. I began to stimulate my finger as if it was a penis to fuck her and it went in and out with ease. I called it BRT lane. The only time she complained was about the incompetence of a finger and suggested I used two. Yea, two fingers disappeared into this girl’s pussy and appeared and she still claimed virgin. Days later we went a step further. This time, the deal was only the head of my dick could enter. According to her, we weren’t having sex. There was a round I was more than certain my dick was fully inside her but she still disregarded the notion of us having sex. She would say stuffs like, “I’m yet to have an orgasm ‘cause we were yet to have sex blah blah blah and how tight she was”. I nodded as an agreement to what she wanted me to believe. I got tired of acting once and told her she wasn’t a virgin and drama begun. I had never seen anyone in an attempt to be convincing. She earned her [first] Oscar performance when she said, “I’ll like us to go for a virginity test. It seems that would be the only way for you to believe I am a virgin”. A typical Ade would have jumped to have that experience but it wasn’t necessary. I decided to play along with the conception of her being a V. I would pretend not to have sex with her and she would pretend as well.

She called me after one of those days of…sex? She said she saw spots of blood on her panties. I was amazed. Finally, this girl found a way of putting me in the dark if she was a virgin or not. I was left to believe I might have mistakenly applied pressure on her hymen and it ruptured hours later. This babe was good and I was glad the whole virginity issue was settled. She called hours later that she was still a virgin. That the blood was from her clitoris [something like that]. That I might have injured her while my fingers were fucking her. I was like…damn! This babe had a free pass about this whole virginity ish and did a Torres by wasting the opportunity.

The day finally came, the day she told me to go all the way. In my mind, I was like; this is it. The moment of truth and blood. I knew what virgins could do to a clean bed spread but I was bothered because I was of the motion this girl wasn’t a V. My first thrust nothing happened. She began to tell me how painful it was. I wanted to laugh but held it back, I also wanted an Oscar performance. Second, third, fourth thrust…no blood. She looked surprised. “Just go for it at once, put everything in. Don’t worry about the pain I’m feeling." If only she knew my dick was close to feeling her ribs. I kept on going while she kept asking if blood was rushing out. I came first; she pushed me away and ran to my bathroom. She closed the door behind her and I could hear her writhe, saying something like “pain…below…abdomen…have…Panadol”.

I sensed this babe would continue with the act even after hearing cut getting caught. And that was when the real drama begun.

Click on "Last Nigeria Virgin[pt. 2 Red Rose]" for the concluding part.

Being a Father...a Good Father

Being a young unmarried guy (with prospects), it was expected to have ladies that would see that as a reason to have a (committed) relationship with me. From the second I say "hello", they relate with me as a potential husband. Fact is everyone can become a wife/husband BUT not just anyone can become a good wife/husband. People say marriage starts when the wedding ends and I believe that, most especially raising a family. You begin to deal with issues greater than your wife being a great cook or not. You begin to deal with issues that contradicted what you liked. For instance, females who desired outgoing guys as a boyfriend would seek the opposite. They wouldn’t mind the husband staying indoors as much as possible as long as he was providing financially.

I worked in an organization where my colleagues were older, married, and had kids my age and that put me in a position to learn. I observed how they combined family and work and all I can say is that was effing difficult. One of the things I noticed was how their children made demands regardless of the financial/emotional state of their parents. I see men who looked relieved when their phone rang and it was the Boss on the line and not their wives/children. You could feel their excitement and their punctuality to work only showed how eager they were to leave their homes. I asked myself, is this the life I want for myself? No!

I had noticed money was the key factor in raising a family and it was hardly enough even if you were a manager. Imagine this situation; your child says he wants to write a professional exam, ACCA. You could easily enroll in institutions here in Nigeria to preparation and sit for the exam. But the child tells you he wants to attend classes at the London School of Business (LSB) in Canada and sit for the exam there. The total cost of that exam now run into millions. The child some how believes "daddy can easily afford it" but I work with him and I know sh!t like that was killing him. Kids would never learn these stuffs and most of them tend to exaggerate their parents’ financial worth.

A good wife definitely makes the difference and I had to admit, a good wife was scarce. Don’t get me wrong, being a bad wife didn’t mean you were a bad person, simply meant you lacked the basic requirements of a good life. Just like saying an individual wasn’t a good student, didn’t mean they were bad in other aspects of their lives. A lot of girls were leeches whose main focus was the wedding day, looking good, and the joy to say they were married. Fact, yea sue me, tell ‘em Ade said so.

A co-worker had the intention of opening a beer parlour for extra income to support his family. His wife was against it. Her point was the beer parlour would distract him from his job and make him inefficient at work. According to her, either his 9 to 5 job or the business would suffer (sounds selfless). She was surprised he had that amount of capital and made another suggestion. He should get her an expensive necklace she loved (sounds selfish). He got her the necklace and a week later he lost his job.

I know the kind of life I would love for my kids and I make that my top priority. Yea, my relationship life sucks but that is what I have to go through to find a good mother for them. I intentionally place them in odd situations and make tough decisions because that was what they would have to go through after “I do”. If I don’t find any then I won’t get married. This world wasn’t paradise. And don’t quote Genesis 1:28 to me, I have neighbours doing that every year. They should cover for me.

This is Punishment/ Mr. & Mrs. Sexy Maid

Matthew 19:6 reads "What God has joined together let no man put asunder". "Joined" in this context was marriage but we all know another man wasn't necessary to end the marriage. We have the couple's conflicting personalities, money, kids, and the house-girl. These were factors that could also be the strength of some marriages. Anyway, there were this couple I wrote about in a post titled "Mr. and Mrs". They were the ones the wife beats up the husband. I don't even know I should suggest the husband was man enough (or not) for not being able to defend himself. You see, marriages like that weren't built on a solid foundation so also that of the kids (two girls) that were used to seeing their Mum execute a 10-hit combo on their Father. The guy lost his job few weeks to Christmas day and the wife pulled it up a notch. 

Wives like this were terrible, it was bad enough to beat up the man that paid your bride price but she made sure this was a neighborhood gist. She once shouted, "You think I'm like those girls from your state that allow their husband beat them up, I am not a coward. I will BEAT you".

Issues like those were bound to make the man seek solace in the arms of another lady. Someone that would provide emotional needs the wife was sucking out of him. As if the wife sensed the husband would begin weighing the option of her husband having an affair, she did something I experienced for the first time. She got a maid.

Maids weren't new to be but a maid with this specs was. She had a slim frame with MASSIVE BOOBS. It was outrageous. I got confused, why would a wife hire a maid with gigantic boobs to work in a house with her husband during a shaky period in their marriage.

I can't even guess what was going through the guy's mind. He might think it was a trap. The wife wasn't that nice to reward him with a main with huge tits. Every body in my area have the intention to f*ck that made. One of those shameless married men joked with him once, he said "Na you dey enjoy o. Me I no go mind have that made scrub my back".

But I feel for the man, no doubt. This was a serious lose-lose situation. I have a feeling she brought the maid for the husband to attempt something and kick him out. I believe it was all a trap and the maid was in with it. Now the man just chill outside the house avoiding the temptation inside when his wife was away.

Rong Radio

I don't hide my dislike for poems, particularly those that the poet utilised almost all the figures of speech. They turned a literal piece to be enjoyed into a study pack. Still there were some that stand out and "Rong Radio" by Benjamin Zephaniah was one of it. You read it and feel you had learnt and not one of those that made you feel you were yet to learn.
This was definitely one of my favourite poems.

Rong Radio

My ears are battered and burned and I've just learned
I've been listening to the rong radio station
My mind has been brutalised
now the pain cant be disguised
I've been listening to the rong radio station
I was beginning to believe that all black men were bad men
and white men would reign again
I was beginning to believe that I was a mindless drug freak
who couldnt control my sanity or my sexuality.
I was beginning to beleive that I couldnt believe in nothing
except nothing and al I ever wanted to do was get you
and do you
I've been listening to the rong radio station
My future has been blighted I am so so excited
I've been listening to the rong radio station.
I was beginning to not trust me
infact I wanted to arrest me
I've been listening to the rong radio station
I've been dancing to music that I can't stand
I've been reciting commericals to my girlfriend
I've been trying to convince myself that what I really need
Is a sunbed and a mortgage and some hairspray, the kind of hairspray
that will wash my grey-blues away.
I've been trying to convince myself that I shouldnt care
about anyone else but myself
I've been trying to convince myself that I could ease my conscience
if I gave a few pence or a few cents to a starving baby in Africa
Because African babies need me so
because African babaies need my favours
because Africa is full of dictators
And oh yeah, globalisation
will bring salvation
I've been listening to the rong radio station
I thought my neighbours were the Axis of Evil
I wanna go kill people
I've been listening to the rong radio station
I was sure I didnt inhale, so why is my mind going stale?
I've been listening to the rong radio station
I was beginning to believe that all muslims were terrorists
and Christian terrorists didnt exist
I really did believe that terrorism couldn't be done by governments
not our governments
not white governments
I just could not see what was wrong with me
I gave hungry people hamburgers you see
I was beginning to believe that our children were better than their children
their children were dying from terrorism
but I couldnt hear their children call
and a child from Palestine
simply didnt count at all
walk this way
no children I was not aware
I've been listening to the rong radio station
For years I've been sedated now I think Im educated
I've been listening to the rong radio station
And everytime I got ill
I took the same little white pill
I've been listening to the rong radio station
When it started I was curious
but then it got so serious
It was cool when it began
but now I really hate Iran
And look at me now I want to make friends with Pakistan
I want to bomb Afghanistan
and I need someone to tell me
Where the hell is Kurdhistan
Yeah you can be me ally for a while
Until I come to bomb your child
And Im sure there is a continent called the Middle East
and I think that I can
Bomb my way to peace
I've been listening to the rong radio station
I've been listening to the wrong chants
I've been listening to the rong beats
I've been listening to the rong radio station
I've been listening to the rong tones
from the rong zones
I've been listening to the rong radio station
I've been listening to the rong voices
I've made mad choices
I've been listening to the rong radio station
I've been listening to lies,
I've been listening to spies
I've been listening to the rong radio station
I needed to know what some popstar somewhere
was having for breakfast
I needed to know that I was no longer working class
I needed to know if the stock market rose 1%
I needed to know that I had a ruler to give me confidence
I needed to know that my life would improve loads
if I had an operation on my nose
I needed to hear that DJ say
Good morning, Good morning
I felt that he was there just for me
I loved the way that he would say
This show is sponsored by
Oh buy, oh buy - he made me cry
I've been listening to the rong radio station
Can you dig this?
I put myself on a hit list
I've been listening to the rong radio station
I used to take myself for granted
Now I believe I'm wanted
I'm laughing and I'm crying cos I'm watching myself dying
I've been listening to the rong radio station
Can you hear?
Listen to me
Keep this frequency clear!!