‘One way ticket to Heaven and Back’

My friend laid on the couch in preparation of the last leg of their trip. The kids had a swell time indeed.

He had endured the long drive back from Orlando to Miami for the flight back to Nigeria.
The last plan was to drop his family at the airport and then quickly return the rented vehicle back . . . The thoughts played in his head as he prepared to catch a little nap.
All alone, outside the room where his wife and two kids; his boy, aged 5 and the lil sister, aged 3 were sleeping.

He was awoken by the heavy sounds from next door . . .

A young lady moaning . . . ‘Uh-uh-ih-ih-uhh’.
Moans accompanied by loud screams of ‘pappi-pappiiii-pappiiiiiiiii’.

Then a man’s voice calming her down. The very heavy breathing.
His chest heaved rapidly with heavy panting . . .

He was shouting too . . . He certainly made it to heaven and back in quick succession:

From his calculations, they were Mexicans.
He had lasted about . . . (?!/:;&@#$'”;.,)
Go figure.

Kikikikikikikikikikikiiiiiiiiiiii !



‘Kiss & Tell’

I got introduced to my ex wife around late February, 2005.

Events unfolded like a flash subsequently, I remember driving down to her office from a client’s.
With me in the car was my female assistant, Deola.
She must have been so impressed by the entire package that she could not hide it from me.
Problem was, how was she going to communicate that to me . . . Her oga pata pata.
Like I usually teach my people . . . There’s always a way, find it.

She found a way round it . . . Sending me a text that night:

‘Please, Mr. Gbenga . . . Don’t miss this one’

What effrontery ?
I had thought.
Anyway, it was all in good faith so I let it pass without raising an eyebrow.
Indeed, many more said things in the same light.

Funmi was remarkable, almost an unbelievable catch for me . . . She said same about me:

‘You are more than I asked God for’

. . . Always emphasising her fondness and affection for me:

‘I love you MEGA’

She said again and again.
This was to be one of what propelled and fast tracked our relationship.

I had met the father first, it was one of the days I had picked and dropped her at home. He was tendering to the flowers in front of the fence.
I got down to greet him and that was it, each and both of us taking to one another instantly.
This enabled me frequent their house even more; a five bedroom, 2 floors and 3 living areas plus 2 rooms boys quarters.
So I had gone visiting one late Sunday evening and had met the father all alone in the main living room down stairs and after our then usual tet a tet, urged me to go meet the daughter upstairs.

Everyone up there; herself, the two brothers still at home and their girlfriends looked so very surprised, an element of acknowledgement that I’d positively scaled the hurdle . . . I knew it too.

One down, the other to follow.

This other being her Mum, who was at that time holidaying with the second son in America.
Moni, my friend that was dating her third brother, had told me, scale this hurdle and you’ve done a great job of it all.
On their Mum’s return, my performance was spotless and pinpoint.
She also took to me like a fish takes to water.

The stage was set. Eyes fully and very firmly by now fixated on the prize.
I had in a jocular manner asked her one night to marry me and she had laughed it off. Not outrightly saying no . . . I knew I stood a good chance.
I slept over the matter, also praying fervently and then changing my strategy
by taking my pitch to her father one afternoon, during office hours. Afterall, the man was retired and I was most likely going to meet him at home.

I did met him as predicted and I hit the nail straight on its head.

“Daddy, I want to marry your daughter and I’ve come to ask for your blessings”

I had shocked him. Come see the man, all smiles. Sheepishly too.
We had a man to man talk and then a father / son discussion.
Therein, he advised me to proceed to the mother’s shop in Agege market to tell her exactly what I told him.

I did as advised . . . Over there, it was also smooth sailing for me.
On my drive back to the office, I had called their daughter to inform her of the
coup d’etat that just took place.
I was in charge.

Few days later, the father and I met with him asking when and how to meet a few members of my family.
I informed my Mum of the development and she was most ecstatic. She informed my sister and her own sister too while asking me to inform my uncle in Ikeja.
We then planned how we were going to see my big brother at his place in Ikorodu as well as my late Dad’s younger brother.
Myself, Mum, Sister and her daughter went on this trip on a Saturday morning, quite early too. We were at uncle’s first before my brother’s.

Prior to now, my brother had been having issues with the family, this had dragged for almost 2 years by now. He had stayed away from all family functions and members.
So showing up at his doorstep, he was taken aback to see up . . . He let us in anyway . . . Then.

My big sister had taken the mantle and had explained nitty gritty the reasons behind our coming.
By the time my brother started talking, the atmosphere was heated up more than a bakery. He took on my sister and then my mother. Painfully as it were, I sat quietly and grabbed a newspaper to read. I was boiling up inside of me nonetheless.
My brother compounded my state when he insisted I dropped the paper. I did and then confronted him. I was having none of it anymore. He can talk to me as he liked but I wasn’t going to look sideways if he should further insult my Mum or sister.

What followed in the next few minutes made operation desert storm child’s play.
On the long run, he and his family attended neither the introduction nor the wedding ceremonies.

We went ahead with the introduction first. Buying all sorts as gifts for the family of the would be bride.
We all gathered at the Adeniyi Jones Avenue home of my uncle, the Otunba and my late father’s first cousin and principal executor of his will. My father’s
younger brother and his wife had come there from Ikorodu. My big sister and her husband joined us at home, alongside my Mum’s younger sister, Mum and myself.
We joined the rest of the party at uncle’s Ikeja abode and set off to would be in law’s therefrom.
Only one friend, K-Fad did I inform. I was one of his groomsmen while also giving the toast at his wedding barely a year earlier.
He joined us over there.

What we met on ground was most unthinkable, a grand carnival so to say with an attendance of who is who . . . Canopies laid out and a catering stand for food, ikokore inclusive.
It can be said that they overwhelmed us with their crowd; uncles, aunties, cousins, brothers and sisters jam packed their compound.

We entered their living room first, my uncle and his wife with me and my Mum
following, then my father’s brother and his wife, my big sister and her husband, etc.
My father in law to be, grinning like a child had welcomed us into his home and instead of waiting for protocol to follow, had asked like a husband in too much of a hurry to see his wife:

‘Is this mummy ?’ pointing at my uncle’s wife.

“NO” I said categorically, holding unto and introducing my Mum.

Anyway, that aside . . . We were ushered to the canopies where the ceremony then took place.
We introduced ourselves, laughed and bantered as well as prayed fervently for the union to be a blessing unto the 2 families.
Worthy of mention is my mother in laws prayer to her daughter . . . She concluded this with tears streaming down her face:

‘Funmi . . . Ile oko, ile eko ni ooooo’

We wined and dined thereafter, with loads of photo sessions to follow too.
My soon to be brother in law, Kole had secured the services of a photographer . . . He had shockingly come to ask me for his fees the week after . . . Huhnnnnn.
I was dumbfounded, but gave him the money all the same. What I did after made them realise I wasn’t going to take such nonsense.

I took home the album upon delivery . . . Abi now.

Paying for a service I did not seek nor negotiate. One that I had a much better person I could have used . . . Gosh.
I had it all coming, but didn’t take it all too serious, looking sideways instead.

My Mum was born on Boxing Day . . . So
every 26th of December, we host a small gathering of family and friends . . . My would be in laws played a return leg on that day, visiting my family as well.
Aside family bonding, the wedding date discussion was also to start in earnest.

In January of the following year, my big sister’s mother in law passed to the great beyond. As it’s customary, all roads led to Oshogbo for the 30 days fidau prayers and party.
My Mum had gone days before . . . My own in laws, driven by their driver with me and would be wifey driving behind them also landed in Oshogbo on the morning of the event.

We stayed for the entire duration till night fall after which I followed them kilometers away to their hometown, Iragbiji . . . On her parent’s exact street, the father pointed out Ojuyobo’s family house to me. Her maternal grandma’s house is also on the same street, with theirs the last before a huge pile of rocks.
We had called on the grandma first to pay homage and then proceeded to their family house . . . A very big affair, one that made me wonder yet again why people put up such a waste in their villages. Anyway, the old man and I went round on a tour showing me this and that and a whole lot of stories behind every detail. Lastly, he pointed in the direction of a corner in his vast compound:

‘When I die, that’s where I want to be buried’ . . .

At night, he ordered his driver to take both myself and his daughter to the massive golf course in Ada, owned by his friends . . . The Ponles.
We came back tired and ready to sleep . . . I had in my mind more than the sleep though. I knew that was one huge opportunity I had longed for . . . Sleeping on the same bed with wife to be all night
long . . . She had evaded and outrightly resisted all my overtures till date . . . Not even a kiss . . . For me, this was the night. A kiss was even going to be child’s play . . . I was gonna roost her . . . . Damn.

I had all those thoughts going through my mind when the daughter asked very loudly to everybody’s hearing:

‘Daddy, where is Gbenga going to sleep ooooo ?’

In unplanned unison . . . Both parents screamed at her . . . ‘You both are sleeping in your room, on your bed . . . He’s your husband now’ they concluded.

What da f.ck ?
I couldn’t believe my luck. They had presented her to me for slaughter . . . On the plater of gold.

That’s how we entered the room ooooo . . . I yanked off my clothes while she covered herself all up.
“Hahnn hahnnn now . . . Baby kilode ke ?”

That was my story all night long . . . An effortless struggle.
No show oooo . . . Then I remembered I was driving back to Las Gidi around 3.00 am.

That’s how I kun kun put my head on the pillow and jejely slept off.
I suffer mehnnnn.

Lagbaja nothing for me !


‘How Stella got her groove back’

Stella and I had become really great friends in a strange and funny way . . . Our friendship blossomed from platonic to very sexual over time.

We laughed and enjoyed each other’s company, especially since we both broke up from our different spouses. 
She came around to my place more often and we spent great time together.
I still remember the night she called me mid week . . . There was a problem . . . We had not seen for awhile and she reeled it all out through the phone mouthpiece . . . She had been on sleeping pills for quite sometime cos she could not sleep . . . The pharmacist at the pharmacy she patronised had noticed her intake of the sleeping pills she got from them and had sat her down.

‘Don’t you have a boyfriend ?’ he had asked her innocently and jokingly, but most seriously.

‘You sure have a whole lot on your mind is the reason you’ve found it difficult to sleep’ . . . He teased her further . . . ‘Get yourself laid’ he concluded.

Her main problem was that she’s had no shoulders to cry on since her engagement to the guy of her dreams fell apart 6 months earlier, practically no one has been there for her except me . . . By that, she had become emotionally tied to me too.

‘Can I come and spend the night at your place on Friday ?’ she asked . . . “Whatttttttttt ?” I shuddered.
With Stella, no half truths, she said it as it is . . . Straight. Plain. Truth.

Truth is I had been so attracted too . . . What a luck . . . What the ?

The heavy workload at her workplace made it unrealistic for her to truly turn up Friday evening, to the extent I thought she chickened out . . . Lo and behold, Saturday night till Sunday morning was a blast . . . She woke up on my bed, having slept like a baby all night long . . . Refreshed and beaming with smiles . . . Finally getting up to have her bath at about 2.00 pm Sunday afternoon. 

The final word (Satzenbrau)
Getting shagged is therapeutic.
That’s how Stella got her groove back.

By the way . . . My name is Eddie !


“Failure is an Experience”

This was the day my whole world stood still . . .

Yeahhhh; yeeeeee; yesssss.
I got the job, I’d joined the big league, this was a whole new world to me . . . This was life, I thought to myself . . . After a gruelling 5 months long interview / tests I finally landed my dream job.

Take home pay was in excess of one hundred thousand naira per annum (Don’t laugh oooooooo cos this was ages ago).
The organisation exceeded all my expectations; no secretary cos I was to be my own secretary, I was also to be my own big boss, a totally new experience . . . Mind boggling experience it all turned out to be.
Unexpectedly, I wasn’t ready for that kinda challenge (at least not then), I was totally overwhelmed, completely knocked off my feet and hugely intimidated.

Everything went so fast, the trainings, the management sessions plus meetings, client visits, then the shocking news – We were to go to then very popular management retreat center in Ijebu Ode for a 3 days retreat and everyone of us including the 4 newly recruited management trainees were to do individual presentations.

Moku, Mogbe, Motidaran I thought to myself . . . One on one, I’m superb, but do a presentation to this whole lot, these guys sure can pose mehnnnn.

How was I goin to impress them, how was I going to shine my way through ?

I was even a pure computer illiterate and I had to do my presentation slides myself . . . That wasn’t much of a challenge though cos I learnt the use of a desktop computer in less than 10 days all by myself.
Did my slides perfectly well . . . I was given the task of reading from page to page Steven Covey’s ‘7 Habits of Highly Effective People’ and then to do a presentation on the first 4 habits.

I practised, presented to myself and my friends, reviewed and replayed the scenes on my slides: awake and asleep in my mind.
It all seemed perfectly well but I still wasn’t satisfied . . . I felt the butterflies in my tummy.
Then the D-Day came, the hour was finally at hand, my turn had come and I strolled to the front of the small hall; majestically – Carrying with me my glass of water while also remembering the managing director’s words the previous day:

‘You’re a showman once on the stage’

This was goin to be my show:

I did my intro, followed by my opening speech, threw a joke (they didn’t even laff) and then placed my opening slide to start my presentation.

I was not doing badly for the first few minutes . . . Then the unexpected happened.

I blanked out, dried lips, stone faced, shivering, stammering and starring at everyone in the hall; about 20 in all.

My 3 other friends; a female and two males urged me on, waving their heads or hands as well as winking at me but it was all too late.
I had thrown it all away, I’d messed it all up, I f_cked it all up.
That was it . . . The whole world, my entire world which a few weeks earlier was so promising stood still.

I had failed, disappointing not just myself but those who hired me.
I walked away stumbling, head bowed, heart shattered, ashamed, aghast, bewildered.

Few months after that incident I finally threw in the towel . . . I couldn’t take it anymore, I walked away; scared, scratched and charred.

Looking back, many times I fell but everytime I did, I have picked myself up and carried on . . . Everytime I remember what happened nowadays, I just laugh over it all knowing you never fail till you agree within you that you can’t succeed.

That was in 1996 . . . 21 years ago !


“If you’ve failed, that means you’re doing something – If you’re doing something, you have a chance”
– Robert Kiyosaki



‘TGIF . . . Thank God It’s Friday’

After a rigorous and tasking week, people my age always cheer up that the weekend has finally arrived . . . Yeeeeeeeeee.

As a very young and upcoming guy (YUPPIE), I remember one such Friday I had so much looked forward to . . . I had this freaking beautiful girlfriend in OSU, Ogun State University . . . She was dashing and everytime I took her to my friends, they were always in awe of her . . . ‘Your babe is beautiful’ they usually chorused . . . I always wished they never said so cos this was someone who couldn’t control the fact she was beautiful . . . She lerrit get into her head instead . . . I was always pissed too.

I had seen her one day in church, gaddemn shege . . . “Where on earth did she come out of ? I asked and was shown her older sis . . . I had met the older sis before, she had come to see their step sister who lived directly opposite a good friend of mine . . . My friend’s place was my hangout and I spent a lot of time over there. 

I introduced myself to the beauty and as you’ll have it, I got the necessary details off her . . . She was goin back to school that afternoon and had given me a description to her abode in school . . . Chaiiiiiiiii.

My good friend that lived opposite their step sis coincidentally also had an OSU babe so it was a match made in heaven . . . We hit the road together henceforth. 

She lived in her father’s country home.

On our first visit, she had entertained us at the sitting room, we didn’t even get a clue of the color of her room.
Anyway, one thing led to the other and we started dating . . . I started goin down to Ijebu Igbo all by myself . . . I actually bought 4 brand new tyres for this project . . . Chuckles. 

Then I started spending the weekends at her place . . . Bliss plus plenty fights too . . . Very stubborn girl I was to find out . . . We had lots of divergent opinions but I liked her all the same . . . She was too beautiful to let go so I took all the bull shit that came with dating a drop dead gorgeous beauty.
One of those things I couldn’t at that time comprehend was the fact that on the days I spent the weekend at her place, guys would always troop down to see her, my classmates she would introduce . . . Some had the guts to also sprawl and sit comfortably on her bed . . . To think this same babe never even let me into her room on my earlier visits . . . Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

We fought even much more . . . I was jealous . . . I couldn’t even take those snides mehnnnnn.

Then I decided I was gonna catch her red handed . . . It was the last chance too . . . She was finishing her final exams that Friday afternoon so I had planned to drop in unannounced for the weekend.

The plan was I would leave Lagos late . . . ERROR.

I left a few minutes to 7.00 pm that day and hit the Lagos – Ibadan Expressway enroute Ijebu Igbo.
Before you could say Jack, the entire route was in total darkness . . . The roads had no lightings and I only had my head lamps as aid . . . They were not enough.

A huge regret it was but I had gone too far and couldn’t even dare turn back by the time I realised it . . . A truck or bus or
whatever would just emerge out of a sharp bend with full lights on and impeeding my sight while I was also on top top speed . . . Gosh.

At a point, I ran into a ditch and my car grounded to a halt right there in the middle of the road . . . I had gotten to Oru by then so I wasn’t so scared cos I knew I was only a few minutes away from her place in Ijebu Igbo . . . I got down after having opened the bonet, checked and found out it was my battery head that shifted from position . . . I knocked it back into the right place and revved the engine back to life . . . As I inched closer and closer the thought of nicking this babe of mine finally wif another boy sweetened me . . . I needed something to hold unto to call off the entire thing . . . A valid excuse . . . Lol.

On getting to Ijebu Igbo, the whole place was in total blackout and I missed the turning to her house on the main road . . . I drove further down with the intention to do a left turn and then drive back to her place.

As I made the turn, the entire world came crashing down . . . An okada with a passenger were to my left side and I had not even seen them . . . I brought them down totally . . . In the few seconds that it happened, the entire okada population nearby had swam on me . . . The accident victims groaning in pain, voices atop one another with suggestions of the nearest hospital to scurry the victims to.
I told everyone who cared to listen that I was new in town and had to let my host(ess) know I was in town . . . Her house was just 3 blocks away from the spot. 

Luckily, her auntie was also in the crowd and quickly recognised me . . . She had gone out I was told . . . The auntie followed us as I took the victims to the hospital where they were admitted.

My babe later showed up too, her auntie had informed her on the phone about what happened. 

The hunter had become the hunted . . . All the cash on me, intended for entertainment was spent on hospital bills.

Enjoy your weekend. 

Kikikikikikikikiiikiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii !


“Easter Holiday Chronicles”

My crew wear a cloth per day, pyjamas inclusive, dirty or not.
So I said on Saturday, you guys gotta wash, not waiting till Sunday for the laundry woman to show up . . . I took them both downstairs; clothes, buckets, water and detergent.
Showed them how to scrub very well and went back upstairs to my phone.

‘Daddy and his phone’ they always say . . . By the time I checked back 20 minutes later . . . Ori iya mi ooooooooo.

They had used a third of 500 gms size Ariel detergent between them both to wash about 20 pieces of fabrics and pants.

These cheeeedrens haf kiiiiiiii me.

The usual procedure when I cook is once I serve their food, I wash the pot, spoons, knives and other things used for the cooking . . . That night, I left the bowl used for mixing eggs unwashed . . . My daughter does the washing of her own and brother’s plates and cups . . . So she came up, sweating:

‘Daddy, I helped you to wash what you left in the sink . . . Why did you not wash it ?’

Huhnnnnnnnnn . . . Ori iya e fokasibe. 

Daughter loves food . . . Sure Daddy cooks great too, reason why she eats so much and ends up in the white room after meals, everytime . . . 1 tissue paper gone in 3 days.

Moku. Mogbe. Modaraan.

Food ready and served . . . I picked the trays while the crew ran up delightfully . . . I heard a big bang . . . Twice for a fact . . . I didn’t wanna be theoretic so when I got upstairs I asked . . . “What happened ?”
I saw son writhing in pain . . . Crying, he said.

‘I fell Daddy’ . . . That’s what food can cause in my house.

“Who was chasing you ?” I asked ignoring him.

Nonsense and ingredients.

We are The FOODIES.

The rate at which water was also being used was alarming . . . I use my overhead tank alone for 5 days, with them around it used to be for 3 days . . . This time around nah everyday I dey pump water ooooooo . . . Once the tank empties, nah wahala be dat . . . I get air locks in the pipes and water runs like we are managing my tank for the whole neighbourhood . . . Trickling.
I then have to climb the scaffolding to release the airlock by opening a portion of the pipes . . . I opened the taps upstairs, 4 in all and instructed my ever playful son to lock the taps after 10 minutes . . . Their entire bathroom was flooded in less than 10  minutes by the time I got back upstairs . . . I was screaming madly at him . . . ‘But you said 10 minutes Daddy’ he said pitifully.

The look I gave him ehnnnnnn.

“Goan mop that whole floor dry” I screamed angrily.


You sha know how you try your possible best to make an holiday pleasant ?
Food, drinks, tv, outings, loads of fun and even electricity . . . Drives me crazy when they ask me . . . ‘Daddy is this Nepa or generator ?’ 

They don’t even know the difference . . . Serious yotomi leleyi ooooooo.

I bark back at them . . . “Don’t you have EARS ?”

So by jove, we saw and I killed a rat that ran out from my daughter’s room into my son’s room and then back into daughter’s room before running out into the living room on Holy Thursday . . . I knew they’ll freak out if I let the rat go so I ensured I killed the f.cking damn thang . . . They refused to sleep in their rooms since thereafter.
T’was a tiny smallish rat but they said . . . ‘If there’s a baby rat in the house, then there’ll be a mama rat’


Oh my bed. Oh my space. Oh my gosh.

The most annoying was not even allowing me watch tv . . . They watched only cartoons . . . Same programmes oooooo. Repeated ones sef, reciting every scene, script for script and word for word. Action for action.
Lord have mercy. 

My eyes see weeeeeehnnn ooo during the holiday.

Quick quick, I’ve shipped them back to dem mama . . . Awon omo kan o le wa pa baba kan nowwwwww.

Kikikikikikikikikikikikikikikiiiiiiiiiiiii !


“Husband Material”

‘I write to give myself strenght.

I write to be the characters that I am not.

I write to explore all the things I’m afraid of’
– Joss Whedon


Funny how I started thinking about marriage, seriously at that after my running into a somewhat then friend, Rowland opposite the university of lagos gate in 1998.
His question, though thought provoking was most unexpected . . . ‘Why are you not married ?’ he had queried me.

I mumbled some excuses in my defence . . . “No serious woman out there” I concluded.

‘Are you yourself serious ?’ he ranted back at me.

That statement hit me like a thunderbolt . . . Thus challenging me forthwith, I needed to adequately and properly reposition myself . . . I needed to be a husband material . . . Both materially and mentally.

However, things were tough, I was battling with a 1 year old business while also rounding up my PGD programme . . . My apartment was bare, totally so too . . . Didn’t even have a car of my own etc . . . Despite all, I was a man of impeccable character though . . . I wondered if that alone could count however.

Time rolled by and a few years down the line saw me taking an advance course to further improve my business . . . That was it . . . That decision made a great impact on the business . . . Catapulting it multiple times up . . . New businesses, a lot more viable clients, extra money etc.

I set up a real office, hired more hands and then rewarded myself with a personal car . . . With a regular salary, I started stocking up on home appliances and necessities . . . I remember a female friend visiting once and saying very seriously that:

‘All your wife is going to need would be just her luggage’.

I was a readymade husband material . . . All was set on the home front . . . The only thing missing . . . A candidate for the position of a WIFE.

I’d gone through a couple of botched relationships along the line though . . . With that in mind, I started giving myself my own treats . . . Lone dates to restaurants and fast food joints, stage performances, cinema outings etc.

My friends decided to act and my first serious attempt at being matched (intros) was by a friend’s wife.
Fola’s wife, Remi had asked me lovingly why I was still single . . . Bringing out 3 photos from her personal album, she had made me vow to choose only one pix . . . Upon doin so she picked up their phone and called Yomi, the chosen one of her 3 cousins . . . ‘I want you to meet Fola’s friend’ she said into the mouth piece and handed it over to me . . . I introduced myself and within a couple of hours I was staring down the babe at her place. La rondo. Petit. Pocket sized. The photo had obviously lied I came to realise . . . Ahhhhhhhhhh . . . We gisted anyway, had a number of laughs getting to know her and I left.

She had graduated from the obafemi awolowo university and her father was late with a mum based in Akure etc . . . My nephew I thought would know her somehow, coincidentally he came down to see me that Saturday evening too and I asked him:

“Do you know Yomi ?”
Filling in all necessary details.

Wide eyed and obviously unimpressed he had screamed . . . Bomb-shelling.

‘Where do you know that babe ? . . . All Ife big boys have passed her around oooooo Uncle G’

Yeeeeeeepa . . . End of story.

Like a bolt out of the blues, my friend Kenny, whose cousin, Deji was also quite close showed up one noon at my doorstep . . . ‘My G’, he said, ‘I have a babe for you . . . A very good girl, banker, obafemi awolowo university estate management, second class upper graduate, beautiful etc. If I wasn’t married, Lamide would’ve been the woman I’ll marry’ he concluded . . . Arming me wif her details.

I was very interested and showed up at her office one hot afternoon, the bank had a public offer ongoing so I asked to see her and declared my interest in making share purchases . . . Beauty and brain she was indeed . . . Very professional too but I made sure I earned a next visit, got her to personally give me her phone number so I could follow up . . . I did severally thereafter too and we ended up wif our first outing about two weeks later . . . Dinner at the oceanview restaurant in Victoria Island . . . Lamide aside being beautiful was pure class and intelligence combined . . . I started a routine weekly movies schedule at the cinemas with her, she loved and lived life . . . We did countless movies together plus strolls on the streets of VI.
Lamide lived deep inside Isolo so stayed till quite late after work before goin home, sometimes attending the federal palace hotel gym for workout sessions in the evening when we had nothing doin . . . Got to work by 6.00 am and slept in her car till about 7.30 am before work commenced . . . The routine was taking a toll on her so she decided to team up with 2 other friends for a Lekki flat . . . “Hey babes . . . You don’t need an apartment of yours . . . Let’s get married . . . I’ve a place for you”.

To think my niece who was also in the same department had given her 110%.

Marriage happens however, when TWO agree to be ONE . . . We didn’t on a number of issues despite the adventures so I moved on . . . Where I was very ready, she wasn’t anyway.

My cinema outings continued however . . . Alone.

It was at one such cinema outing, all alone and by myself at the silverbird galleria that I ran into Adesua and her hubby, Victor . . . This happened on three different occasions . . . We chatted and laughed and went our different ways . . . On the third night, she insisted on seeing me at her office . . . She was one of my favourite clients and a close chum too . . . We discussed practically anything and everything . . . I called on her days later at her surulere office and she slammed the door shut . . . ‘Gbenga, why do you walk alone ? Why are you not dating anyone ?’ she asked really concerned.
We bantered over the issue back and forth till she dropped the bombshell . . . ‘I have my big sister in America and I want you to date her’ scribbling her email addy as well as the phone digits on a piece of paper for me.

“Whatttttttt ?” I said. Shocked.

Anyways . . . It never happened . . . I never even bothered to call . . . I wasn’t that desperate and wasn’t also goin on any ‘rescue mission’ for nobody.


Adesua didn’t take too kindly to my decision.

About that same time, someone in church; married to the younger brother of my harvest committee chairman; a mentor of mine so to say and godfather to my son . . . His inlaw, a very quiet lady . . . We only said ‘hellos’ to one another . . . Coincidentally, her mum was also my mum’s childhood friend . . . This young woman walked up to me one Sunday morning just before Mass commenced . . . ‘Mr. Oshin, I wonder why you’re not married ? I sincerely find it baffling’ she went on also looking perplexed.
She concluded . . . ‘I have a very good childhood friend you’ll like ooooo, she’s based in London’.

I chuckled and told her I wasn’t interested in living in London ooooooo . . . ‘She’s a very good person, I can vouch for her’ she went on as well as giving me Titi’s phone number . . . Curiously, I called Titi and we gisted a couple of times . . . She was coming home briefly to 9ja she informed . . . Her visit coincided with my chairman’s mother’s 80th birthday . . . I lost a phone to pickpockets that day at church which really got me upset . . . I met Titi the Londoner at the 80th bash reception inside Queen’s College Hall . . . We said our hellos, chatted a bit and that was all . . . It was in august . . . I’d started dating the one that was to later become my wife in march . . . Case closed.

I should recall also I met wifey under similar circumstances . . . I had these 2 sisters as client and friends, both of em medical doctors . . . They had come to pick up their orders at my office one afternoon when they both wondered out loud if I was married . . . “Nope” I said and wasn’t intending to so soon I shocked them.

That was how they started on my case ooooooo . . . Invitations to their house, they have friends . . . Good wife materials as friends . . . I went, saw and was uninterested severally.
A house fellowship in gbagada, party in surulere, naming in obanikoro and wedding at vgc all yielded no fruit . . . Then the younger of the sisters mentioned her boyfy’s sister, a banker, ‘Why didn’t they think about her all along ?’they fumed . . . Armed wif her phone number, I showed up at her office and the rest they say is history.

That marriage was to last 20 months . . . Producing 2 lovely gifts . . . A boy and a girl . . . Both very adorable too.

I told myself . . . Never again . . . MARRIAGE . . . A no No NO.

One elderly family friend of ours, one that lived about 10 streets away, a not so close friend’s mother on learning about my marriage collapse had quietly told me in confidence one late evening . . . ‘If you had married my Sheila, nothing would’ve happened to your marriage’ . . . In total shock, I looked at her bewildered, unable to utter even a word.

My only ever close contact with Sheila was that one phone call of mine the mother picked when I called her ward on a Saturday evening long ago . . . I had dropped the call the moment I realised it was the mum that picked . . . I never once showed up at theirs despite the daughter coming to mine on 3 or 4 occasions . . . Must have told her mum something . . . I still wonder what ?


Funny thing is my family and friends just won’t lemmie be on this matter.

My very good friend and pally since way back called me from his London base 2 years after my marriage collapsed . . . ‘You gatto move on bro’ he started . . . Long and short, he had this cool babe he would like me hook up with . . . Nigeria based but at that moment holidaying in London . . . Her younger sis is married to my friend’s friend . . . Their mum had come to really like my friend and had jocularly asked if Bolaji didn’t have a friend like him they could hook Dee, her daughter up with . . . That was how I came into the picture . . . We hooked up via fcbk, messages back & forth and eventual phone calls . . . She was back in 9ja and we met eventually in her state of residence, somewhere in the western parts of Nigeria . . . Nice, quiet and very mature . . . Was around at my place for a couple of weekends . . . My friend had warned me sternly not to ‘press charges’ if I wasn’t goin to play ball . . . I wasn’t so into her so we never even got started . . . I remember my guy coming to town about same time and we travelled to Ibadan for the wedding of one of his cousins . . . We were to deliver a package for Dee’s mum and didn’t know our way to that part of town . . . She delightedly drove down to come pilot us when we called . . . Took us home and laid out a table for a kingly feast . . . The treatment was royal . . . Red carpet to say the least . . . I was unyielding . . . Not swayed . . . Nice babe no doubt, but I just never felt her so I moved aside.

Another bosom friend, Kay whose wife Bimbs was always quick to warm my heart with her numerous cousins and friends . . . ‘Talk to this’ . . . ‘Have a feel of that’ she’ll say . . . By the time she found out happenings between her young niece and myself and a relationship she had no clue over nor knowledge about . . . She knew how to leave me alone . . . It was even a disaster . . . The momentum was consuming . . . I preferred my space instead, sadly too.

It was a huge breather . . . I was left alone . . . Or so I thought till Bolaji’s favourite cousin, Alexandre based in Lincolnshire messaged me:

‘I have finally found you a wife uncle’ . . . ‘She’s Catholic and you’ll love this one’.

“I’m loving only my children” I declared, uninterested.

‘She’ll love your children too’ . . . ‘She attends an early Mass at so so and so Catholic Church and drives a Toyota Camry, her name is Lope. Go and meet your wife’ she concluded . . . Curiously I got interested. After several persuasions and even threats not to move an inch till she gave me Lope’s phone number that I wasn’t goin to make any contact . . . I eventually got the digits and now don’t even know how to get started on the matter . . . I don lose form . . . How shall I do ?

A good man never keeps a woman waiting.

My wife is waiting.

Kikikikikikikikikikikiiiiiiii !



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