“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 !



“Life is a Story – Make yours a Bestseller”

“I could draw”

I look back in time and smile at some of the things I did growing up . . . I particularly remember my mud works – moulding prototype buildings; decked, fenced, roofed plus windows and doors.

They were very real . . . Very different from what other kids my age did too . . . Structures emanating from deep within my young soul made real . . . I brought out the drawings from my heart . . . Giving them life . . . Birthing them.

I could draw . . . For real.

For that singular fact, everyone around me thought out loud:

‘He is gonna be an engineer’

I did everything at that stage real fast too . . . The only one of my siblings that leaped from primary 5 to class 1 . . . It was a feat . . . A family record.

It was to catapult me to the technical arm of my secondary school as well . . . We had the grammar, science and technical arms . . . In line with the dream, my combination was carefully selected . . . Technical drawing, woodwork, metalwork, applied electricity and the likes . . . I stood out tall in the TD classes . . . I wanted to be an architect. It was inborn.

I could draw . . . So awesomely too.

One tree never make a forest I found out . . . TD wasn’t enough for I barely was surviving in the other subjects.
I struggled through secondary school with virtually nothing to show for it . . . Drawing wasn’t enough, but I scraped through anyway.

The pre degree science programme gave me a second chance and shot at a university education . . . This navigated me in the direction of a science course . . . Fisheries and aquatic biology . . . Further opportunities to draw . . . I excelled, infact standing out . . . I drew so well in the practical classes that the lecturers found it unpractical and unbelievable.

4/10 or 3/10 scores . . . Copywork I got for my brilliant works where my mates that traced from the textbooks got 8/10 or 9/10 . . . Very good for copying.

How cruel ?

I got punished for being so so damn good . . . I eventually got chucked too.

I could draw . . . But it got me nowhere.

I fought my way into the social sciences faculty for yet another shot at a degree . . . Downcast . . . Low spirited . . . I trudged on and eventually did it . . . 9 years it took too.


I could draw . . . Real life lessons.

My quest to draw took a new dimension with the advent of social media . . . Specifically my joining fcbk in 2008 . . . I got a totally new opportunity at drawing.

I could paint an entire picture in my head . . . Happenstance, event, occasion . . . Absof.ckinglutely anything and bring it to real life . . . I could see the beginning and the end of any situation . . . Beginning with the end in mind . . . One huge habit I acquired over time.

I could draw . . . With words.

I could build, construct, draw, evolve or frame a story so good and so real that I couldn’t differentiate if it was real or fiction on the long run.

I am an architect eventually . . . Architect of words.

Long and short of all these . . . When I write, what I write and how I write does not categorically depict me . . . What you read about me are not as they seem.

Just so you know . . . I am getting somewhere.

I could draw . . . Absof.ckinglutely anything !



“Room No. 7”

Room no. 7 she asked for and indeed room no. 7 we were given at the motel . . . I was scared shit in my pants as we strolled towards the room direction and made our way through its entrance . . . Modestly furnished, neat with well laid out sheets. A mini size tv placed atop a bedside fridge just by the door to an equally inviting toilet and bathroom facility . . . My guest, my valentine for the year decided on a shower first and foremost before anything else after switching on the tv . . . Nothing of interest was showing as a million and one things went through my by now small mind . . . “What ifs ?”


“What if this or what if that happens ?”

I thought to myself as she slammed the bathroom door close.

I slid on the vast inviting bed, the succulence was soothing and this quelled my troubled mind . . . At least for awhile . . . I usually don’t get this awkward or scared on an adventure . . . This entire trip from the word go had felt strange, somehow; it had a sign of tragedy written all over it . . . No fuel. Her late coming. The untarred, deserted inner roads. Then room no. 7 . . . The puzzles needed some fixes . . . Asap too to lay my mind at rest.

After what seemed like 50 or so minutes, madam came out from the bathroom sparkling and glittering . . . Shinning brightly like a star . . . Skin glowing and inviting . . . She went to the phone and placed an order for breakfast, I declined but opted for a bottle of soda . . . The service was impressive as it was delivered in a jiffy too . . . A plate of yam and eggs for her . . . I watched as she took her time consuming the delicacy, slowly and delightfully . . . She’s indeed beautiful, the babylike skin beckoning on me to come get her . . . I bidded my time . . . Remembering the once popular tv slogan of Indian brand – Mirinda:

‘Never rush a mirinda’

Breakfast over and well rested she crawled up to me in bed, I was down to my boxers by now, still tensed but ready and looking forward to the main act.



It was all jeest a joke when I added and went on to become great friends with this fcbk friend . . . A top graduate from one of the southwestern state universities . . . She had been posted up north to do her one year youth service but had redeployed to Lagos . . . Met her for the first time when I volunteered to pick her from the airport that late January . . . Couldn’t believe my eyes as she was even much more beautiful than the pictures had portrayed . . . We drove down to my place and I later dropped her at the Ojota garage enroute to her Ibadan location . . . The hustle and bustle began in earnest . . . Unending phone calls and inbox messages etc . . . We giggled and pulled each other’s legs to our own delight too . . . She was free just as I was . . . I used to tease her to the point of even terrifying her that I was gonna date her.

‘You are a joke’ she’ll say . . . ‘Don’t even think of it . . . Neither is it possible nor practicable’ she said severally.

On Saturday February 13, we had gisted late into the night on the phone as usual when I dropped the bombshell.

“I am coming to spend valentine’s day wif you in Ibadan tomorrow.”

‘Whatttttttt ?’ she had screamed . . . ‘Don’t even try it’ she tried convincing me.

In the first instance I had no clue where she lived over there and in reality, I had limited fuel to travel as the fuel scarcity was biting then.

With fuel barely enough to get me outta Lagos, I landed in Ibadan on Sunday morning, skipping church and waiting for her at Mr. Bigg’s for the next line of action . . .I had no plans really . . . It was all up to her.

She showed up eventually after keeping me waiting . . . Waiting gets on my frayed nerves and I was at the point of flipping when she finally showed . . . All glowing and smiles . . . Calmed me down by taking me to a fuel station very well known to her family to fill my tank . . . Then.




She had a car and asked I drove behind her . . . I followed without a single clue as to where we were headed till we turned into several untarred side streets . . . We got to the front of a huge building and she honked for the gate to be opened . . . A security man flung it open and we drove into a vast compound . . . All quiet . . . You could hear the drop of a pin . . . She got down from her car and beckoned on me to follow suit . . . I did while also reluctantly following her into a reception area . . . It was a motel I found out.

She was familiar with the place going by the grins from the security guy . . . This was also confirmed both by the receptionist and the statement that was to follow from her mouth.

She was booking for a room . . . ‘Can we have room no. 7’ she had said.

If I was alarmed before now . . . I was at this point very very afraid for my life.

Was this a setup ?
Why room no. 7 ?
Ori iya mi oooooooooooooooo.



The reason for the day’s troubles . . . She planted kisses on my cheek severally and I drew her even more closer to enable me lock lips with her . . . The warmth was reassuring, the towel around her succulently soft body dropping off to reveal the cursp of her bobbies, mindblowing those twinnies were . . . I wanted to suck on them as much as I also wanted to stick my tongue in the warmth of her mouth . . . My third leg was by now on a lone protest to be part and parcel of this mesmerising event . . . It had mounted a guard of honor . . . She rolled further away from the towel, revealing it all . . . The entire landscape of a body whose work was almost spotlessly perfect . . . Well chiselled, the right moulds at the right places . . . Gosh.

We kissed passionately as well as me sucking away like a big grown ass baby on the twinnies . . . Those were delights. I nibbled at the nipples making her gasp and groan for more while also licking round the well shaped full blown breasts . . . This went on for what seemed like forever as she slid to the edge of the bed . . . Cupping her hands over my guy standing guard . . . The feeling was chilling . . . Killing as she slid it through the by now creamy mouth, the tongue working what seemed to be wonders . . . I was in ecstasy . . . In dreamworld . . . Electric shocks delightfully passing through my long dark body . . . She stroked me top to bottom as she so beautifully sucked away . . . The big boss, fully awoken and ready for the show . . . She got up and mounted the standing rostrum, sliding down with cries of joy . . . Both of us lost in the rythym. She grinded like her life and mine depended on it . . . Singing ma name in the process:

‘Ahhhhhhh, Gee. Yeeeeee, Gee. Ohhhhhhh, Gee’

I don’t know whether it was her scream of joy or the explosion from the rock between my legs that brought me back to reality.

I stood there dazed, one eye already blood shot from the quite heavy and deadly slap that had landed on my by now all swollen face.

3 burly and heavily built men standing over the bed, gun welding, the room and indeed the motel had been broken into . . . I was to find out in a most dastardly way a robbery was taking place . . . We heard 8 others lurked around the property.

The beatings we received still haunts my mind till this very day, every night for a fact.

It was yet again the nightmare . . . I’ve dreamt every now and then about what didn’t happen but should have happened in room no. 7.


The valentine sex that never was.

My nightmare !

The END . . . FINALLY.



“How I missed the Lagos marathon”

Finally . . . The d-day cometh . . . The 2nd International Lagos Marathon, one that had taken me several weeks of preparation . . . I’d also been able to convince fellow unregistered cyclists as myself to join me in this experience I was so much looking forward to. 

I had woken up about 3.30 am but finally got up at around 5.20 am to wash and dress up . . . My first phone call was to Tunde. He didn’t pick but called me  back almost immediately . . . He was getting ready too . . . I called Taofeek but no response then followed up on Akomz . . . He went to bed late and was unlikely to partake he informed.

Kenny also didn’t pick as well as Segun . . . Kenny showed up eventually.

While waiting for Taofeek (It was to be his first ever group ride on a Lagos road) . . . I had decided to warm up a little in my hood . . . At top speed I went up and down the next street and the most unexpected happened . . . A blow up . . . My rear tyre exploded like a cannister . . . I got down and pushed the bike in the direction of my house while also putting a call to Tunde . . . The time then being 6.30 am . . . Not much he could do anyway . . . Made unsuccessful calls to my vulcaniser too . . . Called Taofeek again to see if he had a grasp of the task ahead of me . . . No dice but he showed up a little later . . . We struggled but eventually removed the tube, patched and re fixed it to the rim, as we pumped we realised it was still leaking . . . The other guys called again . . . About the fifth time . . . They were already waiting and suggested I ferried my bike down with my car . . . In a jiffy, I latched it to the back of the car and drove towards our take off point . . . All exit leading to the expressway we found out were blocked  cos of the marathon . . . Panic set in.

I called Kenny to pedal down with Tunde’s spare tube . . . Like a flash he turned up . . . Taofeek had disappeared by now and we struggled on end and unsuccessfully so I had to tell Kenny to go with the guys. It was going to 8.00 am . . . Still bent on turning up . . . I strolled to the next street to get a vulcaniser . . . He quickly fitted the tube and I pumped . . . It was still flat.

I was disappointed but urged him to remove and look for the leaking point . . . We had to go to his roadside shop for this . . . I locked up my car and dragged the bike along . . . He removed, patched and fixed the tube again . . . As I pumped it refused to rise still . . . No dice.

Vulcaniser had to for the third time remove the tube again . . . He saw another leak and the whole process took place yet again . . . Remove tube, patch, refix and pump . . . It was firm this time around . . . Before this, a friend who had gone jogging passed by, exhausted but still interested in a photo shoot, so as usual, I did my thingy . . . Chuckles.

My tube was okay by now  anyway . . . I returned my pump to the car and wore my helmet . . . Excitedly, I pedalled towards the expressway . . . My own marathon was about to commence . . . Time was almost 9.00 am . . . To think I’d been on my feet all along too . . . As I happily gained momentum . . . I felt my rear tyre dragging and wobbly yet again . . . It was down . . . I cycled grudgingly to my own vulcaniser, his boy was around and I asked him to quickly fix my tyre . . . He mumbled some nonsense and instead of getting angry I just left him and walked down to bring my car, he’ll be needing my pump as theirs wasn’t the same size as my valve.

I came back and he fixed it yet again . . . His master now available . . . While they worked on the tyre, a neighbour called and I informed him of my predicament . . . ‘Ahhhhhhhh, forget that trip’ he begged . . . ‘Don’t do it again, just go back home’.

That option was unthinkable to me but by the time the tube was once again pumped and it yet again went down . . . In exasperation, I agreed . . . It was a lost battle.
I finally yielded to superstitious belief.

You can imagine me being disillusioned, disgusted, disappointed especially after inspiring not just cyclists but also runners to partake through a number of my social media posts.


The time . . . 9.30 am.

I got into my car and drove home . . . That was the much I could take.

I gave up !



My vulcaniser fixed and sent the bike through his boy and then sent me this message:

‘Gud day, noting do ur tayar, na ur pump no gud, I don do am’