Monday, March 28, 2011

Beware of the “marriage room”

Hola long lost peeps. La vida es llena de sorpresas.

Happy new year peeps. Dude I chose as my bestman sent me the nicest text message on January 1st. He reminded me that after we left church on January 1st 2010 I told him I’d be getting hitched later that year. Didn’t exactly work out as planned but I did get engaged and as far as he’s concerned that’s good enough for him seeing as he had bugged me incessantly about getting hitched. He signed it off by writing, “ I now understand why u took ur time. U seem genuinely happy and I know Princess Fiona’s gonna be the perfect wife God’s ordained for u.” Awwww. And they say men ain’t emotional. Psstttt I am sure he was on his time of the month when he constructed that message but let’s keep it between us okay?

While we are on matters best left to medical doctors u know how they say when women live together for a while their periods sorta synchronize? Well I’ve observed the weirdest thang: my poop doesn’t look like MY poop anymore. Seriously it looks funny, and I noticed the difference soon after I returned to Warri in October 2010. After I fumigated the crib loadsa tiny, streamlined pelletized doodle appeared around the bathtub so I called the fumigator back in – Warri’s answer to Ace Ventura……if good ol’ Ace decided it was easier to make a living killing animals than saving them – and he confirmed the droppings were made by wall geckos, and they are immune to pesticides. They don’t share that with u in those Geico commercials, do they? Seems the gecko chose to rub my face in it as well ‘cos like clockwork soon as I leave the house he’d poop on same area of bath tub. This continued every day for two weeks and led me to conclude I housed a gecko with diarrhea. It was during that period I noticed my poop was taking on weirder and weirder shapes like the gecko’s. Dunno how to describe it but my poop ain’t the same anymore. Need to find a way to eliminate that darn gecko.

Another weird thang’s happened since I returned to Warri from two month sojourn in Lagos. Dunno if The Ghost followed me from the UK to Nigeria but how else can I explain the sporadic rumblings in the loo bowl? Remember the Biblical story in John chapter 5 of the man Jesus healed by the pool? Rumbling volcanic loo bowl reminds me of the stirred pool. Maybe someone adjusted the plumbing while I was away or just maybe the gecko and his animal friends believe a dip in my loo, when it’s stirred, will render them invincible. All I know is it pisses me off no end. Can u imagine water spouting up the bowl while I am taking a dump – hence I am forced to take a shower after every dump now – or trying to catch some zzzz in the room and then the loo rumbles? U know what would be fun? If I could find a way to lure the gecko with the runs into the loo bowl just before it spouts. Talk about an undiscovered form of entertainment: Animal X-Games!

While discussing my requirement for an exorcist for my toilet bowl mate suggested recent observations could be due to pre-marital jitters. Yeah sure, while we are at it maybe it was while sleep-walking I messed around with my plumbing and then took a miniature crap around bath tub to frame the gecko. He listed a number of guys he knew that developed odd habits before their impending nuptials. ”I swear I have a friend who developed a bald patch over night. Another went into reverse puberty as his voice ‘healed’ from a baritone to a soprano two weeks before he got hitched. ” He went on to explain how 99% of men really do not wanna get married and it’s all peer pressure that makes them do it. That took me back to the night before I proposed; I’d not help thinking “why do I wanna get married to Princess Fiona?” U see from the first time I met her I never thot we’d embark on a relationship. I love my convenience - as anyone who’s been in a relationship with me can testify – and when we were introduced and I discovered she lived in the Far Far Away kingdom I knew we’d be good friends but there’d be no way in heck I’d travel that distance to go see her. Fast forward a few weeks and I am slaying dragons (i.e. talking to her while in the company of potential girlfriends), surmounting obstacles (i.e. Lagos traffic and potholes) and boldly going on quests (driving from the Island to the mainland at 2am) just to get next to her. Funny thang is I loved every minute of it, and that’s when I knew I had to forget my fantasy of being a bachelor for life, Nigeria’s bald answer to Mr. George Clooney if u may.

Two days after I proposed I started having panic attacks; maybe it was due to the number of family members calling to congratulate me. “WHAT HAVE I DONE?! FRIGGIN’ MARRIAGE IS NOT FOR ME. OH MAN, NOW BIMBO OLOYEDE (OF CHANNELS NEWS) IS NEVER GONNA FALL FOR MY CHARMS. OH THE PAIN, OH THE PAIN!!!!” Of course I didn’t share this with Princess Fiona. Didn’t think it was necessary as the thought of her smile and the way she ‘gets’ me and the way she laughs at my jokes soon made me realize there was nada to be scared of. If I was gonna take this leap into the great unknown then there was no one I’d rather take the trip with. Then came the hardest part of all, getting peeps to believe I was truly getting married. Dunno if it’s a sign inscribed on my head or what but NO ONE – apart from family who had been waiting for this moment forever or so it seems – believed me when I initially informed them of my impending nuptials. Yeah right…Isn’t that what u said last year and the year before?......As if….Who’d marry ur punk arse?!....For real? U really for real?!......Ha! if u get married I’ll lead a people-backed revolution in the Middle East. Okay I made the last one up but u catch my drift. Actually felt bad for Princess Fiona ‘cos we’d be out and about and I’d see someone I know and introduce her as my fiancée and they’d imply I was being facetious. Musta gotten to a point where she questioned if she made the right decision.

From when we commenced seeing each other I kept getting constant prods, almost as if God wanted me to be sure, really sure, I was ready for a this relationship. Princess Fiona and I caught a movie on our first date and who did I bump into while walking down the stairs? Neo (wearing an engagement ring) with her then fiancé now husband. We saw a play few months later and who’s seated two rows ahead of me? Ex-girlfriend numero diez. Fast forward to last pre-marital marriage counseling class in October and best mate of ex-girlfriend #11 shows up. And y’all still expect me to believe I am not starring in my very own Truman Show, huh? Even now a different person calls everyday just to remind me I am getting married, almost like a countdown. I KNOW I AM GETTING MARRIED PEEPS, STOP REMINDING ME!

Maybe it’s just me or maybe all men go through this, but found it a wee bit difficult to inform exes I am still cool with and/or coulda-been girlfriends I was getting married. Not like I expected them to slash their wrists or anything, just that, well, u know. Weird ‘cos these are peeps I hardly keep in touch with, but well, u know. I tried to put myself in their shoes and realized that ain’t analogous ‘cos I am pretty blasé about most things, and besides I have lost count of number of exes and/or coulda-been exes that are now married with kids. Consulted a mate that recently got hitched to enquire if it’s best to tell exes/coulda-beens or just let them find out for themselves. He didn’t offer much help, kept telling me how much he missed single life and how he invited an ex that dumped him to his wedding and ensured the DJ played Eric Benet’s When You Think Of Me so she’d barf. Okay then. Took the bull by the (no so pointy and sharp) horn and chose to inform chicks based on a game of chance: select a name from phone, toss a coin, heads Tunde tells u, tails u find out eventually. Worked out pretty well, so well in fact I am thinking of writing a how-to book complete with a commemorative coin collection (or The Circular Decider, as it will be known when my infomercial comes out).

Unlike peeps described earlier all exes/coulda-beens I contacted did believe I was getting married. Their responses ranged from I didn’t know u were THAT serious....congratulations to Is she Indian? to She must be a paragon of beauty…where/when/how did u meet her? to Praiseeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee THE LORD!!!!!!!!!!!!! to Nah, seriously, u mean she’s not Indian? The most shocking response was from a non-ex/never-coulda-been who dropped the phone on me and when I called back to be sure it wasn’t a network issue – Globacom’s service delivery has been downright atrocious the past few months – she started crying. “How could u do this to me”, she yelled. U what? This was someone I hadn’t seen/spoken to in almost a year and a half!

The conversations got me thinking about how my life coulda possibly taken a different path depending on something as little as a returned phone call or a positive affirmation from the opposite sex about my kooky dreams/hobbies. A cogent case is that of an ex that sent me a heartfelt email last summer about getting back together. Now though I’d sworn to myself I’da never get back with her trust me if I had received that message before I fell for Princess Fiona I probably would be dating her now. Funny ‘cos I had had a conversation with her earlier that year, five days before I was introduced to Princess Fiona to be exact, and she didn’t hint at anything. In her email she also acknowledged my subtle attempts at getting back with her, and how she purposely held back from meeting me half way. So I was THAT obvious?! No wonder mates would always inform me on the rare occasions they bumped into her. Either they knew I was hankering to get back with her or they just plain masochists who wanted to see the tortured look on my face. As one of said mates is Miguel’s sidekick I am going with the masochist angle. Then there’s the coulda-been I played relationship-tag with; whenever she was in a relationship I was single and vice versa. Now if there’s any coulda-been that, ahem, coulda been - geddit? hee hee - a serious threat to Princess Fiona it coulda woulda been her. Started out having a thang for her older sis but once I really got to know she was a cute polyglot with an amazing sense of humour she had me at hola. A relationship with her woulda been like the closest I’da gotten to dating myself. Sometimes I can’t help but wonder what mighta been, u know.

If I had to compile a list of greatest Sliding Doors scenarios she would top it; then aforementioned ex would be next; followed by Mama’s hot doctor friend (backed outta taking her to the movies ‘cos had a thang back then about not dating sisters’ friends); then Iwona (cute Polish exchange student I met during first year at Bradford….can’t remember why I didn’t make more of an effort); then my cougar obsession (if she wasn’t married….and if I didn’t know her kids); after that would be “my small wife” (Seyi’s friend I met when she was 9 or 10 and the nicest Xtian ever…would never have worked out due to my philandering ways); oh let’s not forget the proprietress of Abuja’s favorite delicatessen (another case of relation-tag); then Surulere’s favorite gap-toothed baker (more a case of being scared I would hurt her and ruin our friendship); then Sharon (Asian girl I met in London…real fun…couldn’t tell her folks she was hanging with a black guy); then Az (Asian also in London….couldn’t step to her ‘cos was her brother’s tutor…discovered she had feelings for me the day I was moving back to Nigeria…her mom’s the coolest); after that we have M-Fine (dated her sister’s best friend so we’da had to burn a whole lotta bridges in order to embark on a relationship); and finally there’s Tanya (African-American lady I met in the ATL who felt I was too young for her, she feels differently now).

Of course there are relationships I wish I never got involved in, but my major regrets are those where I ended up messing someone about. When I reminisce about those days it’s like an out-of-body experience; can’t believe I was that cruel to anyone, let alone someone I fancied. I had hoped to apologize for being a schmuck in front of a global audience during my Oscar acceptance speech but since the chances of that happening are slimmer than Patience Jonathan not being drawn to an open microphone the way moths are drawn to a flame I guess this blog entry will suffice. P.B., if u are reading this I truly am sorry and wish I could take it all back.

Speaking of regrets I also would love to know what I was thinking on those occasions when I took s$#t from the opposite sex. I remember I was at the cinema once with ex #11 watching Dreamgirls when she made me walk outta the movie to pick up some stuff from her best mate – same one I bumped into at pre-marital counseling - who was at the lobby. While taking the stairs to the lobby I kept thinking to myself, “Dude, ARE U INSANE?! It’s her bag for goodness sake, why couldn’t she leave the movie?” Got to the lobby and mate was so outraged ex #11 couldn’t be bothered to meet her she made me go back into the screening hall to bring her out. While walking back up the flight of stairs I kept thinking, “Dude, U’VE DEFINITELY lost it. Now u going back up like an errand boy. I betcha the dude with her best mate is wondering at what point ur balls got chopped off.” If that wasn’t bad enough she kept on piling more and more s$#t on me as the relationship wore on that one day I just couldn’t take it anymore. Unfortunately that day turned out to be her friend’s wedding where she was on the bridal train. I had flown in from PH to Lagos for the wedding yet I showed up extra late – chose to while away time by asking ex #10 out to lunch – even though I knew she wanted to introduce me to her friends, and spent time there being aloof and flirting with one of the chicks listed among the Sliding Doors top twelve. Later that evening it dawned on me I’d acted outta order so I called her up to apologize for my behavior….then told her I didn’t wanna be in a relationship anymore. In retrospect it was an ungentlemanly thang to do, but at the time seemed perfectly normal to me. Y’all now get why I don’t want any daughters, right? Yeah yeah I know I am getting married to someone’s daughter, and trust me I pray to God everyday I continuously treat her like a queen for the rest of our lives and never take her for granted. I also pray that exes I unknowingly hurt find it in their hearts to forgive me.

Less than a month to go before I get hitched and it’s still a bit surreal. Female friends keep asking about aso ebi details like I’d have a clue about such. All married male friends wanna know is the date and venue of the bachelor’s eve party, and though single male friends are just as interested in partying I find that a significant number of them also wanna know how I knew Princess Fiona was “the one”. Gave them the same cookie-cutter answer married mates gave me when I asked same question: u just know. That answer always pissed me off when I was single but now shoe’s on the other foot I can’t seem to give a discernible reason for my choice of bride. Wish I was a good enough writer to convey how I just knew I was ready to settle down or how I just knew Princess Fiona would do it for me. Guess it’s a combination of things: how easy it is to chill with her, way she gets on with family especially nieces and nephews, way she gets my kooky nature…, I best stop b4 I start sounding like those parents who think everything their kids do is magical/genius and proceed to bore u to death with uninspiring tales of their kids’ exploits. Who knows maybe u know ur lady is the right one if u find urself acting like said parents when talking about her qualities and u don’t feel a tinge of embarrassment either?

If that’s how one just knows then yup, I am definitely sure I wanna spend the rest of my life with Princess Fiona. One thing worries me though, I have never heard her poop or excuse herself to go poop. Takes me back to a Benny Hill sketch I saw as a kid: Benny meets this svelte lady at the beach and he asks her out. They go out on a date and she doesn’t eat only drinks water. They go on yet more dates and the same scene plays out again. By this time Benny realizes he loves this lady and proposes to her. Time for Benny to feed his wife cake at the wedding ceremony when svelte, previously timorous, lady pushes Benny outta the way and consumes mouthful after mouthful of wedding cake until she finally transforms into a plump, haggard ma’am. Now I ain’t scared that’s gonna happen to me but this no-poop thang has made me paranoid enough to officially request a warehouse full of bog roll as a wedding present. I am serious.

Tot ziens and God bless.

Reading through this blog entry again I find that the crux of it was on forthcoming wedding. If u are upset I apologize. Just to show my other interests haven’t been sidelined by wedding preparations here’s a summary of other stuff I still feel passionately about.

Entertainment: Two words: Charlie Sheen!!!!!

Sports: Derrick Rose is the man…though I still want the San Antonio Spurs to win the NBA title.

It took 14 years to get to this point but now I couldn’t care less about anything Arsenal Football Club gets up to. Memo to Arsene Wenger: U SUCK! I am tired of carrying around a lachrymatory anytime ur team plays. I give up. Either get urself an assistant with a modicum of tactical nous or quit. Dude, three things are constant in life: Death, Taxes, and Robin van Persie missing a significant amount of games due to injury. (U can add Walcott and Fabregas to that list if u like.) Pundits know this, opposing teams know this, even kindergarten kids know this. But do u plan for that at the beginning of the season? Non. Instead u go on about how “my boys are young”, sounding like punk ass David O’Leary during his Leeds United days. Ur boys are no longer young dude. Get ur act together and stop blaming referees, the pitch, the rainbow or whatever excuse ur warped mind – that suggests u only make substitutions after the 75th minute - comes up with. Here’s hoping all ur players sign for Manchester City. Hey, they are not gonna win anything anyways so why not double their wages while they are at it. Fini punk ARSEne, game over.

After a gazillion lessons I finally figured out the mechanics of a achieving a consistent golf swing. Now I don’t avoid my golf coach’s calls anymore. In fact I’da made him best-man at the wedding if I’d attained my swing last year. Who woulda thunk I’d get my golf mojo about the time the dude that inspired me to pick up a golf club, Tiger Woods, is losing his? In the circle of life/ It's the wheel of fortune/It's the leap of faith/It's the band of hope/Till we find our place/On the path unwinding/In the circle, the circle of life....

Regional politics: Gbagbo/Mugabe/Gaddafi, just leave, do not pass ‘Go’, do not pick up $200, just vanish.

Local politics: @ Chris Okotie. Really? Seriously?! U really think peeps are gonna vote for u based on that naff campaign ad? Tsk, tsk, tsk.

@ Dele Momodu. See above. Dude, ur campaign commercial sounds like it was sung by a hungry fuji musician. Really wanna change Nigeria? Pay ur fuji musician above minimum wage!

@ Nuhu Ribadu. Hire a campaign strategist who will prep u for debates. Duh!

@ Goodluck Jonathan. Have u no shame? U’ll do anything to become president, won’t u? Depleting the Excess Crude Account, closing down schools for a voters registration exercise, turning a blind eye to anti-democratic antics of ur party members; and yet u have the gall to roam around Nigeria promising heaven and earth to anyone who’d listen. And u expect me to believe u gonna serve one term? Pull the other one dude it’s got extra loud bells on it!
If ur year in office is anything to go by then Nigeria’s got its work cut out. Kindly leave the stage…and take ur wife with u. Oh by the way ur campaign jingles are quite catchy, but that whole ‘I am Goodluck Jonathan’ crap was done by Tiger Woods and Michael Jordan eons ago. U really want an eye-catching campaign ad? Google Ohakim, Ikedia.

@ Nigerians. What’s happening now reminds me of what a senior colleague said 3 years ago: Nigerians will do anything for money. It’s not poverty that makes us act the way we act, it’s pure unadulterated greed. Trust me if Lucifer appears with horns and a pitch fork and reveals to Nigerians his true identity, as long as he doles out money a vast majority will vote for him. “Vote SPP, Satan People’s Party. Person wey go chop frog make he chop one wey get egg. We don dey vote criminals before wey dey lie to us, but this na the baba of them all. At least he came out to confess who he really is. Vote for SPP jo.”
It’s high time we stopped voting for peeps just ‘cos of where they come from or how we are related to them. C’mon peeps! C’mon!

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