1

Smitten

It’s hard sustaining a relationship these days. Especially as a woman who gets no appreciation for all her sacrifices.
Imagine me forfeiting my sleep (everybody knows I love my sleep) just so I could watch you sleep, and make sure you’re comfortable through the night. Remember that one time you forgot to leave your key under the fake rock by your door like you usually do, and I had to break the glass with my bare hand? One of those cuts needed three stitches, but I didn’t complain.
I never complain.

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13

I Know I Bashed Your Car, But Have You Eaten?

The question has logical origins, I suppose. We Nigerians have always had near-maniacal levels of hospitality etched in our culture. I mean, you have a guest coming from far away, guest gets to the house by say, 2am. The first thing you ask is, “Have you eaten?” then proceed to offer him a wide array of “light” food to “manage” with. Like pounded yam and afang soup, correct jollof with heavily peppered snail, or the complete package; fried rice, chicken and salad.
You know, stuff one can “manage” by 2am, for quick digestion.
At some point, the hospitality got a bit weird though. Now it’s used in all kinds of ways :s
You get a call, goes something like this;
“Hello? How you dey? Enh? You had an accident?!! You’ve been in the hospital since yesterday? Oh my God. But have you eaten?”
Because food cures everything. Jilted at the altar by your lover of seven years? Tragic story, but have you eaten? Make sure you eat, you’ll feel better. Should we get you pap and akara?
And of course, you know I have to go there, this random post wouldn’t be complete if I didn’t… Nigerian men cannot apologise. Even when they’re obviously wrong, and have had an argument with you spanning three days. When it becomes glaringly clear that he was at fault the whole time, your average Nigerian man will clear his throat, pause awkwardly for a few seconds, then grudgingly ask, “Enh, have you eaten?”
Ladies, sorry to break it to you, but that was your apology. Yeah. Right there. Just take it, and keep praying for patience, not strength. Because if you had strength, you’d have strangled the guy by now.
Same thing with Nigerian parents. You know how you watch Hollywood flicks and you have touching scenes where the parents admit their fault and say sorry to their kids?
Pah!
It is easier for our friend the camel to pass through the eye of a needle, brethren. You can have a quarrel of epic proportions with your parents. Such a huge fight that you are not on speaking terms with them for weeks, and even your siblings pick sides and only talk to you when Mom and Dad aren’t home. Only for your mom to walk into your room one fine afternoon, pretend to read the blurb of the novel on your table, do the awkward cough, then ask “Have you eaten? There is rice in the kitchen.”
This means that all is well again, and she and her spouse have seen fit to leave your name in the will after all. That thing she said is actually equivalent to the turn up arranged for the prodigal son in ancient times.
And of course, the most annoying one. When a guy is struggling to claw his way out of the friend zone, this is all he will ask you. Breakfast time, lunchtime, dinnertime.
Have you eaten?
Have you eaten?
HAVE YOU EATEN??!!
Until a girl gets irritated and insults the guy and he’s all, “But I was only trying to be caring…”
*EYE ROLL*
I liked when it was used to shut down voltrons arguing passionately about something that didn’t concern them in the least on Twitter. After their endless numbered tweets, one calm soul would retweet with, “Yes, but have you eaten?” Meaning; please go quietly away and do things of direct benefit to your existence.
Of course, the “Have you eaten?” question is closely followed by “When will you marry?”
But that’s a post for another day.
In the meantime, it’s already afternoon, and

IMG_20150606_120817

Yours,
@MsMeddle

5

Life, Camera, Toast!

Once upon a very weird Christmas time, an uncle of mine came over, and took me and a couple of my siblings to the zoo. It was a cheesy stab at “family fun”, but it exposed me to…well, the zoo.
So after then, I would go to the zoo from time to time, stare at the animals, give them names in my head and imagine them doing rather Dr. Seuss-like things.
It was a great idea (on paper), because I got to be on my own, cultivate some kind of a personal habit, and just be on my own and think.
It worked only once. Second time I went, I was accosted by this young chap. Senegalese, abi from Niger Republic, I can’t for the life of me remember. He stuck to me like a cow tick in a well fed dog’s fur, and wouldn’t let go.
How I was so beautiful, he was sure I could sing because I had such a lovely voice… Dude sang a couple bars of a song from an album he was allegedly working to drop real soon.
Sigh.
My girlfriend’s bf was competing in that Maltina Dance All show one year, and we all went to cheer the guy on. Seemed like a legit enough thing to do. During a break, I moved away from the “pack” to make a phone call, turned, and there he was. This wet-eyed Igbo boy, offering me a hanky because I was sweating from the heat and excitement inside the hall.
Toh, feeling a large drop of sweat on the cusp of splashing dramatically into my eye, I accepted the hanky and pushed aside thoughts of how weird it all was. And that was how I accepted a major stalker into my life.
There is nothing I didn’t do to shake off that guy, but even at that, it took a few months.
This one time, I was innocently walking from the house to the junction to get a keke. Suddenly I catch sight of a guy and girl standing outside a shop. The girl goes, “Ah, see this fine geh!” and in no time, the guy is coming up after me. Long story short (I never learn, I know this) I give him my number because it’s embarrassing; he has my bag and won’t let go, so passionate is his pleading.
That guy once gave me thirty – something missed calls and like four text messages ranging from “Why won’t you pick up, hope you’re ok” to “I’m very disappointed in you, why would you treat me like this, I’m never calling you again “.
Then he left some more missed calls.
What about when they fixed traffic lights at this roundabout in town here? There I was one bright Saturday morning, perched rather youthfully on a bike, heading to the tailor’s. Now, the light turned red so I was there o, only for me to hear, “Hello, baby, long time.” A slimy smile accompanied this fond greeting, after which the MAN in question proceeded to tell me how I was “his colour”. Mehn, I was Ray Charles to that guy and his teeth until that light changed and I moved on with normal life.
Right from secondary school, there was the (older) guy who’d show up in the mornings with cards and other related love-practices.
Same thing in Uni. The only time I was safe was when I hid in a particular corner of the library…
NYSC camp? Oh God. It was annoying, because I couldn’t be rude to the ones I didn’t like just so I could hang out with the interesting ones, like I would have wanted to 😦
Only last weekend, I asked an electrician to come fix a faulty outlet in my house. Now, I hate having handymen around because, small talk. I will never get the hang of talking for the sake of it, and to strangers, no less. So I hid somewhere with a Charles Dickens and waited for the guy to finish, abegs. I should mention that right when he came in, I was holding a half – finished pure water sachet in my hand. I asked if I should get him some water and your man smoothly took the one in my hand, wordlessly putting the edge I’d been drinking from to his mouth, like a promise… the chills, guys. The chills!
Anyway, your guy finished and I paid him off only for him to ask, just before I closed the gate:
“So… you living in this area, ba?”
You working…where?”
I was all like, hell nah, nicca, and closed the gate behind him.
So far, I’m still waiting for the type I see in Nollywood; that will sweep into my life, wash away my financial and material sins, expose my skin to the best creams and polish me, generally. And all this without thinking to ask for any kind of gratification in return.
In the meantime, though, this one guy said he loves me and he buys me pens from time to time…
That counts, no? 😦

Yours,
@MsMeddle

2

Instant Flash: Bracelet

I am in a bus headed for Asaba. There’s a skinny fair guy sitting next to me who’s been making small talk with the third person at the back, an elderly lady. I’ve come to realize that my girlfriend lied; Asaba is apparently further away than the four hours she promised, and it’s in no way going to be a smooth ride, if the present rough road is anything to go by.
I’m trying to sleep to eat up the kilometres, but there is really nowhere to rest my head. I glance towards my skinny neighbour and access his profile. Glasses, very little facial hair. I quite suddenly want to grab his head and kiss him. It’s not my fault. I love to kiss but this single life won’t let me prosper…
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18

The Professionals

Couple_Silhouette

 

“This girl, you keep trying me, abi?” Dave asked, looking down the proffered cleavage.

Angela laughed teasingly, still using her arms to push her breasts together, a coquettish smile playing on her pretty face.

Damn.

Dave swallowed desperately.

Damn.

“I do it because I know you can handle it. You’re a biiig boy.” She whispered the last part meaningfully, licking her lips a little bit.

Omo, Angela’s heart pounded in her heaving chest. They had flirted a little bit before, but nothing like this. Today’s own was different. What scared her was how much she was enjoying it. She felt empowered, in control. She could see him struggling to find saliva to swallow.

“Dis geh… I go clear your doubts o, one time!”, Dave made to walk past her desk, hoping his excitement wouldn’t show too much through his pants. Continue reading

6

The Hook Up

FUCK!!

That damn alarm just kept ringing. When it had started it had sounded so far away it could be mistaken for the neighbor’s. But now it got closer and closer there was no doubt it was his.

With a grunt and a curse, Caleb reached out and turned it off. He was tempted to throw it against a wall but it was his phone. Money was kind of tight these days so having to get a new phone was not on his list of things to do.

He lay there staring at the ceiling for a while. The whump whump of the fan as it spun was slightly hypnotic. He lay there reflecting on what his life had now become. Once an up and comer in athletics, Caleb was widely tipped to be an international sensation. Then his knee gave out at a track meet and that was it. He was now reduced to the mundane tasks of a boring office job – something he had always dreaded growing up. But, hey, it paid the bills and he was glad he had a job to go to.

He finally got up and after brushing his teeth, jumped into the shower. He stood under the cool spray and tried hard to remember his dream. He always remembered his dreams. That was why this was upsetting. He knew it was a good one too. Oh well.

The drive to work was always the same. Traffic. He didn’t mind though. He liked to observe people battle the hectic traffic as he drove to work. It wasn’t that much further to his office anyway. He drove into his office complex and parked in his favourite spot; in a corner and out of sight from the office windows.

He walked through the giant office space towards his desk, which was-surprise surprise-in a corner at the far end of the open office space. He wasn’t originally assigned this space but through a series of bargaining and pleading he had wormed his way to the corner. Now it was his private kingdom. From this point, he had a good view of the whole office: the boss’s office, the main entrance and…

‘Hi, Caleb!’

The voice snapped him out of day dream. He realized he was standing and smiling at his desk in a weird way. Oh that voice! That voice that made the blood rush ALL over him with even the slightest “hello”. The owner of said voice was none other than Mellissa. Beautiful, sweet Mellissa. Continue reading

8

Adventures of MissMeddle: Toad Eyes and I

Slimy, Green and Large Frog

Slimy, Green and Large Frog (Photo credit: japi14)

 

 

DISCLAIMER: This is another post straight from head to blog. You have been warned.

 

So sometime in the recent past,  I was invited to a party going on not too far from my house. In true Joy fashion, I promptly resolved not to go: I would rather lay curled up in a warm shape in bed, intermittently pressing my phone and watching some sitcom or other. This was my grand design. Continue reading