Monday, April 14, 2014

a letter to myself, 6 months ago

You should see yourself this evening. nothing has ever looked better, in your bed, surrounded by pizzas and slinging back a bottle of beer. yes, you acquired the taste. you've settled into its bitter taste and managed to find the sweet in it. you're in your panties and bra in your furniture less apartment laughing hysterically about something you just saw on twitter. your alone has settled into you. you've remastered the act of being alone and now it feels like you're friends with yourself again.
it's spring again and your allergies are not as bad as they were last year and you're reading again and spring feels so good and your legs are out to play again.
it's probably 3am where you are and you're sad again, and you're crying again and you feel like you're never going to be happy again and you miss yourself and you miss the person who left.
love did not come how you expected and it did not stay how you expected. you built an empire in between the shoulders of winter but of course it must fall like all empires do. the summer came around with graduations and job searches and depression and all its southern sun and melted your empires.
i wish you could have seen you today - content, happy, maybe then you would have cried less, danced in your underwear more, enjoyed the drinking instead of using it as a form of escape. i wish you didn't have to turn to the sleeping pills to lure yourself into constant oblivion. i wish you hadn't forgotten how to love yourself when someone else offered to carry that burden. you should have known that no one could love you in the tentative and vain way you were accustomed to. you loved all of you out and ended up empty.
the world is starting to make sense all over again. you're going out more and traveling more and complaining about work and laughing with friends and having inappropriate sexual conversations with girls who helped pull you out of your loneliness. and you're loving the way your skin is finally hugging itself and your mirror tells you you're beautiful over and over again till you start to believe it again and you're having brunch and drinking red wine after midnight with girls who like to hold you and love you and tell you that you're too damn fabulous to be this lost.

this is all to say that
you've found you again
you're living again
and i'm so proud of you.


Friday, March 28, 2014

Fiery Reds

I square danced on your grave tonight.

I remember the first time i saw you. 
You stared at me through out that night without saying a word to me. You spoke to my friends and never directed any of your questions towards me. 
You were so dark and the whites of your teeth when you burst into unexpected laughter always came as a surprise. You had the weirdest eyes, and sometimes i'd forget that i wasn't supposed to be looking into them. 

I went to your wake keeping with lips your tongue once whispered to

I didn't go to your wake. I couldn't go. 
I sat around an hour away and counted reasons why i shouldn't go - 
you didn't belong to me anymore, 
the moments between the corners of september and may were locked away forever, 
i never belonged to you, 
you were terrifying in the way you wanted me, 
i was selfish in the way i didn't want you.

I haven’t cried yet.

you left and a text message announcing your leaving was all i had, and not even from you. i couldn't stop crying for a week. i gave myself a week to mourn you. you wouldn't have liked all the crying, you hated people being sad around you. 
You thought you could fix the world...
You thought you could fix me if you tried hard enough, if you begged hard enough, You thought you could mold me back into happiness if I'd just let you try but your hands were full of sin, young man.

bon voyage, mon chéri homme français

I hope you have a quarter for the boat man.


Tuesday, January 21, 2014

Everything i know about heartbreak, I learnt from Houston.

"i won't glorify or romanticise
for me it was a kind of death
and i was forced to keep living"
   - Warsan Shire

You should fall in love in Houston, definitely not forever, but at least once. Houston will enthusiastically and expensively romance you with all its oil money and terrible traffic and never ending roads and suburbs and streets. There are never ending hidden alley ways where you can park at 2 in the morning and awkwardly reach for your lover in between arguments and lies and more lies and kiss already swollen lips until you find the truth in them. But you have to do it right, you have to fall in love with a man who will dance for you in the middle of the street under street lights right in the middle of the city's center and tell you stories of the military and love and soldiers who weren't always soldiers. it's difficult to determine what to do with this much sadness and pain, this city is drenched in it, it will slowly seep into you and the man who dances for you under the stars. the man who has a laughter that sounds like musical notes suspended on oceans that dragged you away from everything that looks like you and wants you.

You should fall in love in Houston with a man who loves the idea of you. Who wants you to shrink for him, to talk less, argue less, be less you, be smaller, fit in his palm. A man who wants you learn his language and paints the tones into your skin every night. Shut up more, listen to him more, you don't always have to have an opinion and you try. you try to be less aggressive, you try the submissive thing, you read proverbs 31 over and over and over again until you can quote the words in your head as you count to 10 and bite your tongue. you become familiar with the way your blood taste on tongues that have been bitten for so long. you wake up one day and find yourself shriveled, and unrecognizable but you love him so you stay and you fast and you beg God and you wonder what you're going to do if he leaves. Begging becomes your way of life, you spend hours in tears begging him to stay. you rationalise why you stay, why you deserve the pain, you think of all the ways he's convinced you that you're not worthy and you believe them and you tried didn't you?

You should fall in love in Houston with a man who doesn't know how to stay. He will leave. that's all he knows how to do. You should spend your time in bed crying. let no one tell you different. crying is exactly what you should be doing. Some days the pain feels like it's never going to end, but you should wake up and walk to your favourite brunch place and sit there alone and read "Winter's Tale", over and over and over again till you know all the nooks and crannies of New York city without ever having been there. You should call him and beg some more, you should write him emails and poems until you've run out of things to say and then one day, stop calling him. stop writing him poems that he'll never get to see. stop writing chapters about him when you're only but one sentence in his book. dance naked in your bathroom more, smile silently to yourself at dirty jokes. you should giggle more often because you like to and he's no longer there to tell you that giggling is for immature young girls. you're immature and young and sad but giggle anyway because you want to and because there's no one here to tell you that you can't. Laugh in the dark at how beautiful and amazing and fucking worthy you are.

You should acknowledge that you probably did some things you shouldn't have in this love story, you should read it over and over again till you recognise those things and try to be better. then fall in love again with a man who thinks you're worthy of his love and do better, be better, be worthy.


Friday, October 25, 2013

Enjoy your twenties: A Plea

I think everyone should enjoy their twenties. this is the golden age. you're going to learn more in your twenties than any other decade in your life. i have learnt more in this second year of this decade than i have learnt my entire life. my views have been shaped and changed and shaped and changed again, i've gone through experiences that i never thought i'd go through, i've loved, i've cried more in my twenties than my entire years on earth and this is frankly not an exaggeration.

but that's the best thing about your twenties. you're old enough to be taken seriously, to be considered an adult, to drink, but you're also young enough for your mistakes to be forgiven, to be given a get out of jail free card. you're young enough to love and fail and get up again and throw yourself right back into love, you're young enough to be rejected and to reject, to give your heart and have it rejected, but you're still young enough to heal from the callouses that your heart will inflict on you.

you should have fun in your twenties, you should dance in the rain and get drunk and dance with strangers at a bar at one in the morning and kiss that cute boy across the hall from you because you want to, you should go bar hopping because soon you'll be fourty and you'll be that old woman in the club that you and your friends sneer at now.

you should stay indoors and drink your corona and get drunk within the corners of your bed and read books that will take you to nigeria and accra and take a walk through italy and france and through the streets of london. you should make that recipe in that cook book that you bought swearing you'd cook through it once you got your own place and your own money.

you should fall in love. lots of times or not at all or once. when you get your heartbroken you should ball up in bed and cry and feel your heart literally break and cry and cry and cry and drink and pray and drink and call him a million times and beg and cry and repeat until you feel better, until you can get up and make breakfast and order yourself flowers even though you hate them, until you delete his number and smile at your friends and fall into the arms of another, until you can get up and travel to that city that he kept promising he'd take you to that he never did, until you can get up and finally join the rest of the world.

you should go to brunch. all the time. brunch is the new breakfast. everyone is doing it. why eat at 9 when you can eat at 11 or 12 and call it brunch? plus it's acceptable to drink during brunch, i know!! you should totally brunch.

you should find something you like and make a dedicated hobby out of it. you should find something you hate and make money from it. if you find something you like that you can make money from...well, you're one of the lucky ones and you should stick to it. it's your twenties, you don't have kids, work hard. get up in the morning and work hard, kiss all the arse you have to, meet all the people you have to. work hard. stay on that grind and save! save! save! save for the days when you've had enough of that shitty job and just want to quit. save for the unexpected events. practice your poker face every morning before you leave for work. smile often. complain when you need to. i don't care that there are hungry kids in africa...well, i do but this is not a suffering olympics, complain if it'll make you feel better then shut up and figure out a way to make it all better.

there will never be a decade like this one. there will never be a decade with this many opportunities and this many love stories. there will never be a decade like your twenties. so please, please make the best of it and above all, enjoy it and learn and learn and toss down a shot every chance you get, you'll need it.


Wednesday, October 2, 2013

remembering to forget you

I gave myself 14 days to forget you.

on the first day, my pillow was soaked with tears.

on the second day, i allowed myself to start forgetting.

on the third day, you called to see how much of my heart you still had. i was a fool for picking up.

on the fourth day, i thought of you a million times.

on the fifth day, you called to extend the olive branch. i took it. i was a fool.

on the sixth day, i went partying. i was reminded of you at every turn. i let myself be romanced by a fast talking boy who wanted to love me in a language my grand mother would approve of.

on the seventh day, i drank till i fell asleep.

on the eight day, i deleted your number. and your messages. i deleted your messages without reading them.

on the ninth day, you called, i didn't pick up. my heart is not the wave to your sea, i refuse to let it be pulled back and forth.

on the tenth day, i let my fast talking boy cook for me.

on the eleventh day, i let myself smile.

on the twelfth day, i couldn't remember what it felt like to be loved by you. i don't think i ever really knew. i think i imagined all of it.

on the thirteenth day, i sat under the shower for 45 minutes. i still couldn't get you off my skin.

on the fourteenth day, i let my tongue wander into another.

i no longer remember what you sound like.

maybe it never really happened.

i may have imagined it all.

i hope i did.

you were a small fire i loved watching burn.


p.s: sometimes when i go on my blog, i can't see my comment box. if that's happening to you too, many use another browser other than google chrome?

Monday, July 1, 2013

you're not like other females and other ridiculous things.

i have been on my share amounts of dates and some things men do make me want to just scream. you're taking me out for the first time and here are a list of things you should not do because they grind my gears. 

- do not be mean to the waiter!! - this guy once took me to this restaurant and after we ordered, some couple that came in after us got their order before we got ours and the dude went off about racism and shit and let me tell you, i have never been that embarrassed in my entire life. do not be mean to strangers or you will definitely not be getting another date.

- backhanded compliments - don't insult a girl across the room just to be able to give me a compliment. don't call that girl across the room fat just to then tell me that "i'm glad that you're not like that, girls nowadays don't know how to take care of themselves". el oh el. seriously, just compliment me and leave out other girls. this is not a comparison, just give me a freaking compliment straight up.

- negging - "i guess you're cute", "you're not really my type but i decided to be open minded". "you're actually too thin for me, i like a woman with a lot more flesh on her bones". lol. i don't understand why men think that saying something insulting to you will make you like them more. negging does not work in this neighborhood. seriously, it doesn't.

- telling me "all african men cheat" while being an african man - i really think that this explains itself.

- men who make a big deal out of nothing - seriously, pick your fights. we don't have to fight about EVERY.SINGLE.THING. seriously. somethings are not worth it. if you cannot tell your boys what you're fighting about because it's so freaking ridiculous then maybe you shouldn't be fighting about it either.

- telling me that because i'm a feminist, i'm a man basher really doesn't fly on a first date either. it's your opinion but don't expect me to go out with you after that please.

- men who don't read and who tell you that because you're reading "you must have so much time on your hands to be able to waste it like this". yup, someone said that to me verbatim. i just couldn't believe it.

- traditional men. i love cooking. i will not marry a man who i do not love cooking for. i will not date a man who thinks cooking is a duty i have as his girlfriend. el oh el. you will starve.

what are the worst things you've heard on a first date? what are your absolute worst turn offs? let me know in the comment section!!! 

i hope y'all are having a good year so far?


Monday, April 8, 2013

How to get a Nigerian man to marry you

Getting a Nigerian man to marry you is the easiest thing in the world. This is your chance to stop being single and get a-mingling. These easy steps will get you married, bedded, bare foot and pregnant in less than a year, guaranteed or your money back.

-- Be very religious. Nigerian men loveeeee them some religious girls. you don't actually have to be, you just have to pretend that you are. talk about the night vigils you go to every now and then. slip in some Bible passages in random conversations even when they don't fit in. Give him a Bible for his birthday. call him randomly for "morning prayers". a nigerian man will marry a woman who appears to be religious. fake it till you get that ring baby girl.

-- Pretend to be maternal. Pretend that you love children so much. especially other people's children. coo at them at grocery stores, malls, lounges, planes. talk about how much you love children. carry his friends' kids all day long. offer to help feed them. it doesn't matter that you don't love other people's kids and think that children can be such dicks from a very early age, it should not matter. pretend girl. you're auditioning to be his baby popper, act like one.

-- Don't ever mention that you're a "feminist". femi-gini? that shit don't live here miss. Fuck women rights. accept all traditional roles even when you're dating. when you are dating him, make sure his food is ready as soon as he walks through that door bitch. it doesn't matter that you're in school or you are also working like him, shit like that don't matter. you have to show your man that you can put your back into it and be that super woman who will clean, cook, pop your back in bed and still pop out those kids.

-- You gats deny all them man them. Have you ever had sex? made out with someone? don't have to tell your nigerian man that. when you're asked your body count is 1 or 2, never more than 3 though cos you're already side stepping into whoredom. never mind that your nigerian man's count is like  54, who cares? he's only out there fucking everything in skirt so that he can impress you in bed. all of what he does is for you, you ingrate!! he's out there putting his penis in everything in other to come home and please you in bed and you have the guts to say you have a body count of more than 3? if any man claims he has slept with you, cry and swear that you know no such man. refer to rule number 1, start quoting Bible passages about how your enemies are chasing you and shit.
that whole subtracting 7 from your body count is bullshit. you only have 3 choices: 1, 2, or 3. other than that, you might as well just remain single.

-- A nigerian man has needs that only you can't meet. you have to give him some penis room. why are you being selfish? let men be men. let them have wings to fly. don't be asking him why he came home late. you smell perfume on him? be happy that some girl is keeping him moisturized and smelling all good. that's one thing you don't have to do today. Let them have some fun girl, you just want that ring on your finger don't you? relax. that diamond that you can instagram with well manicured fingers is coming.

-- Last but not least, cook up a storm!!! your man should not be going hungry. cater to his food palette girl!! if you don't cook for him some other girl will cook for him and steal him away. cook him new delicacies all day, find out how his mother used to do it, cook for his friends too. why do you want to eat in restaurant? bitch please use that money and take your arse to the grocery store and make that man some food. let him save that money he would have used to take you out on your ring darling. be wise. a stitch in time saves nine.

This is my good deed for the day. Let him who have ears, listen or something like that.