Am I The Only 1?

   
 
 I just finished smoking a wrap of joint. What do you call it; igbo, weed, pot or marijuana? Yeah! So, you know now!

 

I’m 23. People say I’m the most confused human being they’ve ever met. Really? I’m confused? You bet I am. But am I the most confused? Am I the only confused? I don’t think so. Every goddamn person on earth is confused; hence the word; God damned; just join the two words together and take away the ‘ed’. One thing I am is the dude who is not ashamed of his confusion.

 

I love pusies! I love girls! I love good cloths and like my friend; Dera would say ‘I love love’. But beyond everything, I love aesthetics, I love art, I’m mad about pictures, I could marry WORDS if she were human, I adore excellence, I love growth, I love success and I love better, although I’d prefer marrying best. And I do love myself. In other word, I love giving myself the best. You know why? I guess your guess is right. Its the same reason you want the best for yourself; coz you think you deserve the best. You do, as much as I do.

  Image Courtesy: Femd Daniel

  My question is, if you want the best for yourself; why do you keep letting people tell you the best for you? How can they know your best better than you? Ever thought of that? Well, do now! I really can’t understand why we keep shrinking ourselves to fit into others’ idea of what’s good for us. I mean, we pride ourselves as smart; yeah…? Or am I the only one?

 

I think Nigerian youths are the most pretentious people on earth. How do manage to suck up to things we don’t like and spend the night wishing we could? We literary suck up to everything; lecturers, parents, house neighbours, uncles, friends, the society at large and so on… Yet, when someone stands up against those people, we call that person (Who is doing what we wish we could do) ‘crazy’!

 

I mean, who really loves lectures? Who really doesn’t want to be a boss? Who doesn’t want to face the dad and say ‘Dad, I’m matured enough to make my own choice!’. Who doesn’t dream of telling his state governor ‘Dude, you shouldn’t be doing this or that’. Who doesn’t want to fly to the moon or change one thing about the world? You? Really? You just have been marginalised to think you can’t; SIMPLE!

 

So, before you look at that guy who spends more time in studio recording his songs than in your boring lecture room and call him ‘MAD’, before you tell that writer friend of yours to tone down his writing, before you advice your friend to kiss his parents arse, before you say shit about the smart girl who turned down a banking job for her dreams, before you call that dude who hate going to church ‘Devilish!’, before you call that hot girl defending her dressing ‘a slut’, before you move on to the next thing you wanna do now ask yourself this simple question ‘When was the last time I did something I really liked, something that makes me feel good, something I was only implored to do by myself, something I couldn’t believe I could do, something I’m really proud of, something brave, something original…?’

 

When?

 

Don’t lie to yourself; you are crazy; I’m not.

To The Wifey Yet To Come: If I Ever Have To Call

  

Do you know why I don’t think about you? I hope you’re smart enough to know that’s a lie. Now, lemme tell you why I don’t worry about you; if you’re not worth the ring; you’ll never get it.

First of all, I need to make this clear to you; there is never going to be a white wedding; I’m not white and I don’t like religious houses. And we must have had thons of sex before the marriage, so, why would you put on some loin that symbolises virginity and purity when you aint a virgin? I would never comprehend what ‘Purity’ means in that context. The white wouldn’t only ridicule an age long tradition, it would also ridicule one of our best connections. Let’s not forget what that would say of my manhood. Chukwu aju! God forbid! If you’d want the wedding that bad, we could have a red wedding. Or a black one. You’d put on a spectacular red or black and chose a colour for me. I think that would be interesting. If OC Ukeje could use a lady for his best man, ain’t it high time every Nigerian became innovative about weddings and marriages? And we could even fly to the moon or Sambisa forest for the wedding.

If by now, you’ve not started getting the feel that I’m crazy, congrats, you’ve passed the first faze of exchanging rings with me. Hahaha! You bought that? Only a mad person would find me sane. I would need you to be sane enough to see that I’m crazy but lovely enough to tell me that with some glint in your eyes… Come on, that’s not asking for too much; is it?

Now, lemme tell you what it is to marry a man like me. I’m the kind of guy who would take the time to take a short class on catering with you so I would be more useful in our kitchen. But I’m not the kind who would always be there to eat with you. Sometimes, I may prefer to eat in the rest-room; alone. Yeah! I’ll change once I meet you… If that makes you smile; keep believing it.

I’m not the kind of guy who could take a wife whose time is owned by someone aside herself, her family, friends and dreams. If you are not smart enough to believe in your dreams and live it to the fullest, find someone who would be cool with ‘My boss said’ or ‘My boss kept me waiting’. I may take it the first couple of months we meet but if after years of meeting me, it hasn’t turned to ‘The presentation lasted longer than I expected’ or ‘I had to supervise my employees as they rounded off the project’, that means you don’t listen to me. And I would never be crazy enough to marry someone who I waste words on… I love self-made ladies, I love ladies who don’t accept being shrinked by men or the society. I love ladies whose dreams are beyond getting married, making babies and taking whatever job luck drags reluctantly to their face. I love ladies who I could talk business with and be sure they understand me coz they have theirs’. 

I love pretty ladies as much as my friend; Femd loves girls with ‘K’ leg; whatever he sees in those awesome legs. I think it has something to do with the way the legs accentuate the waist curves. Yeah! But beyond pretty, I like girls who I don’t have to tell who Picasso is or have to explain Shakespearean quotes to. I love girls who sometimes ask me questions that would take me more than an hour to answer. So, you could be prettier than Genevieve or sexier than Beyonce, if you’re gullible enough to accept whatever I say, we can’t make a couple. Coz as much as I hate hearing ‘No’, I would always love you more each time I discover I was wrong.

  

I’m not a porn star. I don’t expect you to be one. And I don’t expect you to fuck like one. But I like girls who are shameless about their sexuality, girls who know what they want in bed and could go the extra mile to get it from their man coz I too would go the extra mile to give you something better than the fake groans in porn clips. And if you can’t experiment, better not rip my zip off… My prick needs as much drama as it could get. As long as I don’t get wiped or have to bleed in the process. Chai! Some people nasty sha…

If I’ve ever regretted not dating a girl who was in love with me; whatever that means, its only once. Everyone who knows me knows I’m not the type who regrets. This is why I have that regret; she was the only one who never took shit from me during my depressed days. She would literally ask me ‘Ebuka, you wan make I come dey pity you?’. More than any other person; she made me grow. She made me stop whimpering. She made me think like a man even when I was pretty much; a boy. Dear Sun, I don’t expect you to tell me I deserved an award I lost out in. I would prefer being told I should stop worrying about it and move on to the next project. If you’d need pity while down, I’ll take up an acting course just to make sure I always give you that. But for me, tell me ‘Fuck you’ and mean it when you say it. And say it with the world’s Most Over-Flogged word; ‘Love’…

Babe, I hope someone is dating you right now. If not, quickly drop whatever you’re reading this with, make up, wear a smile, call up your friends, go to a bar and have a nice time. And make sure you ignore any jerk who shows up and offers to buy you a drink. Go with the cocky fellow who shows up and sips from a shot you have on the table. If there’s any time to start getting prepared for cocky people like me, now is all you have. I’ve already started preparing how to treat people like you more than well and whatever it takes, I’d give my best to do more than treat you well. Abeg, no come carry me learn ooo…

I’m a vulgar dude; at least some people say. I’m not even sure I know what vulgar means, but I’m the kind of mudafucker who likes saying ‘shit’ when not talking about shit. I’m the sort of crack-head who could shout ‘Fuck!’ while watching a video clips that has nothing to do with the heavenly act. You may have to accept that or be smart enough to cure me of it without being pushy. But I’ll love you more when your response to my ‘Fuck you’ is ‘Fuck you too!’. And make sure your voice sounds louder than mine and horny too. Lol!

I don’t know the religion I’d be practising when we’d meet. Unless Jesus does to me what he did to Saul who later became Paul, I may still be Agnostics, a part of the New Age Movement, a Buddhist or a Traditional Worshipper. You could be whatever you wanna be; as long as you don’t wake me up in the morning to join your morning prayers, ask me to contribute to your church projects, tell me ‘Jesus loves me’ or insist my kids pray before they eat. I wouldn’t call you stupid for believing in whatever you may wanna believe; but I wouldn’t take it when you make a fuss about your or mine religion. Our kids would be taught to trust their beliefs. If they wanna practise your’s, it wouldn’t be my business. Personally, I think religion is a personal issue; everyone is fashioned to believe in something. Whatever that is, demands some respect. And respect, I would always give you. And if we respect ourselves well enough, we may end up starting up a religious group ‘Respect’; based on the theory ‘If you respect yourself; you’ll have enough respect to Respect others which is a true show of Self-respect…’ Wait… Won’t that be awesome?

Pre-nup! Yeah! Yeah! Why sign that shit if you really love your spouse? Why not sign it; does it in anyway affect the love? I know this sounds crazy, but… Love, like every other thing dies. Its always a matter of how soon and what people hold onto in marriage when that happens. If there’s anything I fear in marriage; its divorce. But I’m scared of marginalisation; so I try to learn and have faith in my own thoughts. If we really love each other; we shouldn’t be bothered about how much of each other we end up sucking up when break-up storms. In case it does, its only fair we leave with what we came in with. Oh! Shit! I’m sounding like a bastard right now. Its better I do now than having to endure a marriage because of the fear of the financial worth of what I’d lose when lawyers decide to make profits off our pains. Its better I do; if that would make your conscience free when you decides its over between us. Fuck! I don’t pray for it. Its a nightmare and my hand quakes as I type this. But the world is more fucked up than my brain. Or so, I tell myself.
What else…? Definitely, you’d be a mother. Definitely, you’d be a wife. Definitely, we would see our bests and our worsts. You may be from anywhere. Even outta space would be a thrill. But I would need you to be African. I don’t mean by blood but by spirit. If you’re Asian, I wouldn’t mind being Asian. I mean, is that not marriage is all about; giving to each other what you want to be given.
What else…? I think its pretty much all I have for now. Please do laugh when you read this. Wait… Not yet. Share the message across first; you may not be the one afterall… Who am I kidding? Just try as much as you can not to be my wife. Its a call to be… You fill the gap…

The Girl With Purple LipstickĀ 


Am I beginning to listen to too many Drake? Who am I kidding? It must be Ed Sheeran. No! I guess it’s Neyo. Or is it old Phil Collins? Or all these romance Rock I hear my friend play? Nope! It must be One Direction or my old Westlife collection. Now I remember… It must be…
I guess it’s her dark lipstick. Purple; that’s the color. It makes her look like the kind of monster you see in movies; as deadly as they are pretty. I mean; as sexy as they are homicidal; as charming as they are devilish. I guess it’s the cinema connection after all. I guess it feels good lying to oneself. This is different from the Inception thrill. This is… Well, find me a word.
I’ve not even kissed her. Helen would say I’m growing up. Dera would call it one of my many crazy shades. What would Diogo call it? Probably the unpredictability that’s one of my characteristics. Damn it! What’s wrong about me trying to be a gentleman.
She hates my funny hat. And my offish pendants. I hate the fact that she hates them. And I hate the fact that she wants to choke me with her religious views. I think I’m gradually finding a cure for that. But I like her voice. You know that moment you return home after taking a long walk or after your early morning warm up and the AC is on. You know that chill in the air. That coolness that gently flows through your blood stream and calm your weak nerves. That’s the exact feel you get when she speaks. I call that ‘AC voice’. You should hear her laugh at that.
Like every other girl, she likes my writing. I would say they marvel them. But unlike every other girl, she spends more time trying to learn that she does, trying to act smart. I’ve never been with a girl as curious as she is. And she’s not the type that sucks up to your ‘No’. She keeps asking. And she’s not the type that jumps into every opportunity to speak. She makes you want the answer. And she never answers until you deserve it. I’m gradually learning the easier way to.
I love her knowledge of wine. She’s a wine connoisseur. And she loves wine. She loves it to the extent that she cheated me on the first bottle. Bet me, although I let her win, I made sure I showed the stuff I was made off. And she had a loud cackle. It was almost hysterical. And damn! She was shameless…
I think it’s too early writing about a girl I just met… Well, who defines early…? I mean, what would come next? How she came over someday and we have this big fight that ends up with someone kissing the next person. And we end up in bed…? Come on! That’s so cheesy. What if I stop picking her calls till she decides it’s high time she stopped calling and then make the tougher decision; deciding to go by her decisions. What if it takes the natural course; she comes the next day and we end up having our first kiss and I cut it off somewhere in between and bid her goodbye. And then, we make out the next time. You wouldn’t expect me to kiss and tell; would you? I’m not the average guy. That is why I don’t write about the people I hang out with. There’s always the worry about what to give out and what to conceal. There’s always a tough fight between expressing oneself and being objective. That is why that would be all you’d know of The Girl With A Purple Lip-stick….
Oh! I forgot… I like it when she smiles. She looks as calm as my kid sister. Take your mind off the gutter. I would never say ‘sometimes I wish I were sure her boobs are as great as they look inside her cloths.’ I should probably ask her. Or try finding out without asking. Ebuka, come on, be civil for once in your life. I will, once fine boobs are cleared off the surface of the earth. Don’t ever say ‘Amen!’ To that, please…
That’s not what I forgot. I forgot to say ‘I think she’d make a great designer’… I don’t know what’s holding such talent back…