Beauty is in the eye of the beholder? More like in the eye of the BEE-holder. Some choices can only be explained by bee stings to eyes.

Hola peeps. Usted no va a creer qué me sucedió. Yup, erstwhile arrangement’s boyfriend called me again. Now I REALLY wish I had a mean streak.

Got call from dude at 3.30am the other morning. 3 friggin’ 30 in the morning! Dude called from the girl’s phone, maybe hoping to catch me out at that time. He kept accusing me of getting in the way of him marrying the chick. Told him incessantly that there’s nada going on, but dude didn’t seem to believe me. What more can I do?

Dude: Look, is it a case of her loving u but u not loving her? I know, I have chicks after me too, but…..
Tunde: Dude, what more have I got to say? There’s nada going on between ur chick and I. She’s ur chick for goodness sake. Ask her.
Dude: Er, er, please leave her alone. Abeg now. She lies to me and tells me she’s off to the supermarket when she goes to see u. I have checked her phone, I have seen the text messages.
Tunde: Exactly, and the text messages tell u what? Go on, what do they read? She’s ur girlfriend, the least u can do is talk to her if u feeling insecure. I haven’t seen her in a long time. Don’t u get it? How many times am I gonna tell u there’s nada going on? Look, dude, I have a long day tomorrow, sorry, I mean today.
Dude: I am so sorry. I don’t normally act like this, but u see….er, maybe we’d meet up so I’d explain to u and …..u still in Warri, right? Where are u staying?
Tunde (*thinking to himself* “Lol…..I may be groggy at this time of the morning, but I ain’t dumb”): There’s no need for that, dude. Just talk to her.

Airtime on dude’s chick’s phone ran out so dude called me back with his phone and said he’d call me in a few days. Oh joy! U know at some point in my life sleeping with some dude’s girlfriend woulda been an ego boost. (Karma? Guess I don’t think about that when I act like a dog. Why do u think I didn’t fret all those times when I got cheated on?) However, I don’t need that stress anymore. Maybe the chick has actually been lying about her whereabouts, but she hasn’t been to see me. How do I tell the dude that his constant nagging might be the reason she lies? Then, he’ll even go more loco. To make matters worse he said the chick told him I called him ‘a clown’. Now, this chick’s taking the piss. Maybe it’s one of those cases where she expects guys to fight for her. U know, like the scene in Cyprian Ekwensi’s The Passport Of Mallam Ilia, or some other medieval wooing ritual.

So where was I? Er, yeah, dude said he’d call me when he gets to his new place of assignment called the R.I.G. What? Yup, I kid u not. Later discovered dude’s in the military and I just hope pray he’s being posted to another secret dance fraternity, ‘cos if he’s on my R.I.G. it ain’t gonna be funny. Damn, I’da used an East African accent to fool him just in case we bump into each other. …and in other news a popular dancer was found slumped dead in a mountain of cocaine with a self-inflicted bullet hole in the back of his head. The sole eyewitness, a military officer guarding a secret club called the R.I.G., said dude appeared depressed after his favourite g-string snapped during a performance.

After the call I couldn’t get to sleep, and even worse I was starving but had nada in the fridge. Eventually, I snoozed off and Angelina Jolie was about to shave my head when another call came in at 5am. Thot it was the dude again, but this time it was the chick calling from the guy’s phone. What’s up with these two using each other’s phones? “Sorry to wake u up, but did anyone call u from my phone? I woke up to find my airtime was used up and ur number was the last one that…...” Oh man, this must be a friggin’ joke. I swear someone’s filming an episode of Candid Camera. Told the chick to call me at a saner hour. When she did I explained to her what her boyfriend had said. She apologized profusely and said dude would never call me again. U huh, I have heard that one before.

Later in the day while sitting on the white throne ‘cos of cool runnings I have had since Benin – do u know some chick wished she had a sensitive stomach like mine she’d lose weight easily? Sad. – thought about army dude’s actions. Man, I have never met anyone act that way. I know most times one can’t control one’s emotions, but the least one can do is try to deal with emotions without inconveniencing other folk. Last time I felt this mad was when my train from Oxford to London got delayed by over an hour in the dead of winter ‘cos some lady chose to commit suicide by jumping in front of a train. Okay, maybe the last sentence was a bit cruel, but what I mean is……maybe it’s best I stop this train (geddit? geddit? Aw, forget yous) of thought before I dig a deeper hole for myself and The Samaritans run an ad criticizing me.

Oh yeah, just in case y’all care, the cool runnings aren’t as bad as they once were. Don’t get why my stomach’s so sensitive though. I friggin’ spent 6 years in boarding school eating what could best be described as ‘prodigal son’ food – go ask ur Sunday School teacher what that means – and afterwards, 5 more years of eating bad takeout at Bradford. In all that time the only serious case of runs I can remember was when my sis Funke decided to treat us (siblings in the UK) to her grilled gizzard which she’da called ‘loadsa pepper with a pinch of gizzard’. Must confess that that stuff was finger licking good. Aaaah, the memories. Hey, I just remembered! There was another case of runs so embarrassing it took a shrink, two hypnotists, an anaesthesiologist, and a pastor sprinkling holy water on my six-pack to perform regression therapy in order to help me uproot the memories from the dark recesses of my mind. See the lengths I go through for all y’all?

Anyways, it began like any other day. The weather was sunny, the birds were chirping and I was about to engage on a journey to school (Bradford) from London. Dialled a cab company and was informed the transport would arrive in 10 mins. Cool, just enough time to consume the breakfast of champions, Frosties. Hmmm. As I was the only person in the crib who loves fresh milk I decided to down what was left of the milk so it’d not go to waste. Yes, I also received the ‘there are people in China that have nothing to eat and yet u waste….’ speech as a kid. Cab arrives, I load my stuff in the trunk and we head off to King’s Cross tube station. No sooner had we turned off my street that my stomach started playing tricks. “Hmm, that’s strange,” I thought to myself, “oh well, the station’s only 25 minutes away I’m sure I can hold it ‘til then.” Boy, was I wrong. Screw 25 minutes, the journey felt like an eternity and trip consisting of me perspiring like I was on death row (even though it was the coldest January in London for 20 years!), praying for God’s help in this ‘hour half-an-hour of need’, and pleading with the cab driver to stop at one of the tube stations on our way so I’d let go of the demon poo that was about to burst out at any moment. (And folk say men cannot multitask. Ha.)

I didn’t dare fart for fear of having a watery ending. Through out the trip the driver kept urging me on like those husbands who in the delivery rooms with their wives during childbirth. “U can do it, we almost there, King’s Cross is just around the corner, just hold on….” I, in turn, responded like a woman in childbirth, “Please stop, u don’t know what I am going thru, I can’t do this anymore…” Lol…..we kept going back and forth like we’d choreographed this exchange.

After a million years we got to King’s Cross and I darted outta the car so fast most onlookers would think I stole something. Pushed over a lady with a baby tram, side-stepped some octogenarian struggling to lift a suitcase, and jetted to the loo. As soon as I pulled down my Pepe jeans – I even remember the color of boxers shorts I had on that day - I exploded in my boxers shorts; almost as if the sound of the zipper was the cue my bum had been waiting for. I spent the next 15 minutes singing praises to God while ensuring my stomach was trully empty. When I was satisfied I left a really messy pair of boxer shorts as a belated Xmas present for the unfortunate bloke who’d be brave enough to attempt using that toilet. Walked Staggered back to the cab driver, who was patiently waiting by my suitcase, and handed him a £20 note. The ride shoulda cost £12, but was extremely grateful for the support he rendered. At that point if he had told me his name I probably woulda promised to name my first son after him. Spent the 3-hour train journey to Bradford camped by the loo, u know, just in case. Ever since that episode I always have a substantial amount of bog roll on me at all times, u know, just in case.

Yup, another personal tale for y’all. Don’t understand why in the past few blog entries I’ve felt the need to tell y’all stuff I’d not normally reveal. Maybe it’s my time of the MONTH or maybe I’m just getting OLDER. What, y’all still don’t get the hint? Okay, enuff subtle hints: I am turning 30 on October 15th and plan to have a li’l shindig on the eve of that momentous occasion, so if any of y’all are in Lagos this weekend feel free to stop by…….with presents. Ha. Man, the big Three-O. As a kid always looked at older folk and imagined how I’d be/act when I got to their age. Now I am 30 and wondering how I’ll act in my 40s. Would I still have time to update a blog? I probably will as I have kept a journal since 1994 and still update it daily. How would I act with my wife and kids? Wife would be the luckiest woman in the world ‘cos by the time God selects her outta the bevy of single chicks I’da learned from past mistakes, and most importantly, woulda cut all ties with UniPort chicks. Ha. U see, I must learn to sacrifice by curbing that propensity to joke about everything ‘cos don’t think she’d love me very much if she asks if she’s put on weight and I reply, “…er, well, u don’t sweat much for a fat chick.”

I pray I don’t mess about with the missus ‘cos that would count as the nadir in The Life of Tunde. Exchanged emails with some chick I went on a few dates with and she told me of how she recently met up with her ex and they discussed what transpired in their relationship and really let out everything. She said it was the best thang she ever did ‘cos now she was able to understand the reason behind some of the things he did and he was able to hear how much he had hurt her. Now that’s a swell idea. Before I get married I’d like to meet up with some of my fav ex’s, if I can find them, and iron things out. Give and receive open, bare-chested truth, and maybe I’ll end up learning a thing or two. Dear Girlfriend A, when u cheated on me u hurt me so and that was why I took it out on Girlfriend B. Dear Girlfriend B, ooops, u didn’t know I cheated on u? Er, forget what I just aid. Dear Girlfriend C, to be honest I was glad u cheated on me ‘cos was tired of the relationship and it made me feel less guilty for…hmm, I better not say. Dear Girlfriend D, u coulda been a contender, but u loved money so much. Dear Girlfriend E, is ur cute cousin still single?... Man, I kill myself.

With kids I fear I might spoil them a bit and that’s where the wife comes in in helping to restrain moi. Man, I love kids. U’d see how much I enjoy the company of my nephews and nieces. However, I pray I don’t become one of those dads who every other kid thinks is cool, yet his kids cannot talk to. I mean I am friggin’ 30 yet I still joke like a 10 yr old. Lol…would be interesting to know the exact point at which I finally ‘grow up’. Maybe that’s what marriage will do to me. Man, I’m in a philosophical mood today, huh? Here’s more philosophical rants:

I have always wanted to do stuff different from everyone else. Maybe it comes from being the only son of my mother….or too much breastfeeding……or too little breastfeeding. Shaved my head bald when no one else – except maybe Michael Jordan - was doing it, decided to dye hair blond when no one else – except that punk Sisqo, but his was platinum – was doing it, and got my ear pierced when…okay, most folk had done that by then. Thang is I am capricious when it comes down to the nitty, but I tend to suppress that side of me to please others (family, girlfriends, employers). For instance, since I’ve returned to Nigeria I haven’t worn my ‘graduate stipend-funded’ diamond stud ‘cos of parents’ pleas that “in Nigeria these things are not done” and the fact that clients’ current impression of me would change drastically if the lobe of my left ear started blinging.

A mate from Bradford always got a tattoo at each milestone in his life. He got admitted to Bradford he got a tattoo; got engaged got a tattoo; last exam at Bradford got a tattoo. However, I dunno why he didn’t get one when his girlfriend broke off their engagement and within two weeks was dating someone who up ‘til then had been just ‘a friend’. Ha. The most I’ve done is get drunk and smoke a huge cigar (after 6 years of giving up those vices) on day of final exam in Bradford. It’d be ace if my wife-to-be was also a rebel dying to get unleashed. That way we’d act the fool together and when pressures from family come we’d defend each other.

Once had a girlfriend who I thot was like that. She said she’d like just pictures of her wedding, and would not go for the usual video recordings ‘cos that’s what everyone does. Told her that wouldn’t work in Nigeria ‘cos parents – hers and mine, especially mine – wouldn’t go for it. “U see that’s our problem in Nigeria we compromise to fit everyone”, she snapped. Hey, if that’s what she wants then cool; it’d take loadsa Valium tablets in their tea and a million night vigils to get my folk to acquiesce – in writing - to that, but I’da been ready to do it. Thought I’d actually found my rebel soulmate, u know someone to aim a shiny boot at the bum of the Nigerian ‘oh we do things only one way here’ establishment. Hallelujah. Was so elated I informed her I’d always hoped/dreamed/wished I’d get married with the aforementioned diamond stud in my ear and ….. She stopped me abruptly and said, “Nah, I don’t think my dad would quite like that.” Ouch. Hey, what happened to the whole non-compromising on stuff and all that jazz? Obviously, I didn’t ask her that ‘cos that’da resulted in a Pyrrhic victory where I’da made a valid point but we’d spend the rest of the day arguing. Women, eh? Can’t live with them, can’t live without them……except u want a real lonely existence. Ha. Guess this Fidel’s gonna have to wait on another Che Guevara to come along. Until then I’ll keep hoping. Man, it really would be nice to do things differently now that I am turning 30, but if I can’t I’ll make sure I do my best to get that elusive TV show so I can blame my actions on TV characterisation.

Okay, enuff of the serious stuff lemme tell u what else’s been going on in my head. But first, a disclaimer: It’s 3.40am on Thursday so I reserve to write to claim diminished capacity in case y’all tease me about the contents of this blog when next we meet. Why am I awake, u ask? ‘Cos I can’t friggin’ go to sleep, that’s why. Actually on some group project and a few of team members weren’t pulling their weight so decided to storm off in a huff. Was half expecting them to stop me – man, I am such a drama queen….with an oh-so-nice six pack – but when they didn’t I decided to nap in room for a bit and just woke up. Would be interesting to see how well our presentation on The Key To Good Teamwork goes.

Ooops, is that the time? Guess I’ll wait ‘til next entry to tell y’all what birthday presents I want. Secretly hoping for platinum grillz just so I’d see the reactions of peeps when I open my mouth. Lol…can u imagine someone important like Bill Gates or the Kofi Annan with grillz in their mouth? Hey, maybe that’d be a sketch on my TV show. Tot ziens and God bless.

PS
Okay, one more thang: Er, why are folk ashamed of their significant others, who cares what other folk say/think? U see some dude visited COSMO chick (yeah, her again) and spent the weekend yet she denies dating him. This was the same chick I overheard talking about dude few weeks back. Seems this new ‘we just friends’ line arose after she didn’t get favourable feedback from her friends about the guy’s looks and appearance. Man, are folk so shallow? The speed with which she denied the guy can only mirror Simon Peter’s – see same Sunday School teacher mentioned above.

Okay, must admit I’m partly to blame for COSMO chick’s rejection of her boyfriend. Her actions remind me of a friend, Bux, from Bradford. Bux would tell everyone within ear’s distance how gorgeous ALL her friends are and how none of us Bradford guys could step to them. Man, u’da seen how disappointed I was when I met a number of them. On a scale of 10 even Stevie Wonder wouldn’t grant them a 5. Anyways, COSMO chick’s kinda like that. Anytime one of the guys describes a chick she’ll ask the dude to rate them. “U see I’d say I’m a 7, but most of my friends are 8 and above.” If her friends ain’t the second coming of Catherine Zeta-Jones I swear I’m gonna ask her to reimburse the cost of fixing my phone. So after her ‘boyfriend’ returned to his abode I asked her to rate him. Chick laughed, said “looks aren’t everything”, made her excuses and left the dinner table. Awww, now I feel bad……..but only a little.