For The Love of a Good Guy

As a girl I sometimes have to wonder if some life experiences leave us so scarred that we might be missing out on a potentially good thing because of past experiences. I’m pretty sure every one has been hurt, cheated on or lied to by someone they care about before but that’s not what I’m talking about, not in particular anyways. Take for instance my friend, let’s call her CDK, 21 year-old beauty, smart, good body! She never takes any guy she meets in a club seriously because of some stuff that went down a while back. I'm not saying that most of these guys are meant to be taken seriously but occasionally there might be a diamond in the rough!

So a couple of nights in a week we decide to head out to the clubs, get a little wasted and just generally have a good time. Cute guy comes up to her, let’s call him Jay, and they start talking (my role in the club is solely as wing girl to bail her out if she needs it, you should know that I’m in a committed relationship). So anyways, she and the guy get to dancing and chatting, I go and find some other friends to attach myself too while I wait for any signs from her to tell me she’s good or requires bailing out. Turns out he’s not a creep and they keep at it the whole night, at the end of it all they exchange numbers. CDK comes home all giddy because they’re meant to be meeting up sometime in the week to go to the movies/drinks/dinner.

The week comes and they’ve been chatting, he’s really spitting his A-game (yes, I have read at least 60% of all their conversation) so they day for the movies finally arrives and what do you know, home boy is sort of busy, he promises to make it up to CDK if she comes over to his later that evening, say 10 p.m. she declines and says she’d rather reschedule. Being the sweet/perfect guy that he is he agrees. Needless to say, the time for the next date comes around and he has another reason not to meet up but for her to come over (Coursework, Athletics club, his fish died etc.) Anyways, this goes on for a couple of weeks till my poor naïve girlfriend realises that this boy only has one agenda. My question to you guys right now? Why try so hard! Surely there are a good number of other girls out there just waiting to arrive at your doorstep when you call them. That illusion of ‘the chase’ that guys like so much, why does it never wear off? This boy Jay kept trying all sorts of tricks and scandalous lines just to get CDK to come over to his unaccompanied for months on end! (We girlies have to stick together when entering the lions’ den).

Boys need to realise that not all girls are the same, especially as you’re not trying to take her out once or twice to show her a good time! That’s entirely different, you can woo her with the charm I suppose. But when you’re trying to make a girl you just met your “chill at home chick” then I’m a bit lost. The same way I blame Eve every month when her curses are manifested in my life is the same way I blame the sleazy girls of my generation. I’m not saying don’t have a good time; in fact have a great time! But you could at least try and front for like I don’t know, 2 hours before serving yourself on a silver platter. Also can I just point out that there’s a MASSIVE difference between the girl that sleeps around like a dude no strings attached (All hail Sex and the City’s Samantha Jones) and those that try and sleep around but always end up getting attached (Hi Carrie!). be true to yourself, if you’re a Carrie don’t try and act like Samantha, you end up getting hurt and also make guys think that all girls have a Samantha in them, there’s nothing wrong with being a Carrie!

Guys, if you’ve been trying to get a girl to be your chill at home chick and she’s never been on it and still not on it after 3 months then please respect yourself and fall back. You just end up looking overly thirsty to the girl and let’s not forget all of her posse that she has been telling about every single stage of your ‘relationship’. Girls, as far as I am concerned there is no reason to feel pressured into going to a boy’s house when it’s dark outside! As a child of the light, stay strong and keep saying no or ignoring those phone calls because once you get to his crib, some guys have the power to talk your panties off and make you think it was all your idea!

The Dressing Maketh A Man

Some clothes should not be made above a certain size! Like seriously, the amount of nonsense I’ve seen in this my short lifetime is appalling. Some might think that this post applies mainly to the females but not to worry, I have a male pet peeve or two to address!

Now don’t get me wrong there is nothing wrong with being plus sized (excluding those whose current waistlines are a hazard to their general health, y’all need to hop on that treadmill ASAP!). The problem is when these plus sized people decide to wear certain clothes. Take for example, the infamous American Apparel disco shorts.

 Clearly this ½ yard piece of clothing was made for some size 2 – 8 girlies in say California (i.e U.S. sizes 0 – 4) yet you see some size 16+ (U.S 12+) ladies trying to squeeze in all sorts of flesh into the spandex material, the result? Unsightly rolls, flabs, mountains, valleys, dips and turns bursting out from all over the shorts, it is highly inappropriate for some ladies to step outside the comfort of their homes in such attires! You know them looks you’ve been getting? That’s not envy baby girl, that’s plain disgust! Check yourself before you wreck yourself, because if those pants split on the dance floor it’s not going to be cute!

Now don’t get me wrong, there are some bigger than average girls that rock certain outfits and do it with so much swag because she knows, that you know, that she’s fly as hell! She might be big but those thighs are nice and toned, the stomach is almost flat as an ironing board and you know her make up doesn’t leave her looking like Heath Ledger when he played the Joker. There’s a way to be sexy without wearing ridiculously small and revealing things because you’re trying to follow fashion, if your body type doesn’t allow it then please leave it!

Yes, body type is a huge factor where dressing is concerned, for instance, you might be skinny as hell and still not have a flat belly, looking like some kwashiorkor child from the Niger Delta, so yea you might be slim enough to work those American Apparel shorts but there should be no reason for you to step outside your house in a crop top that you intend to wear fully exposing your torso. Someone on twitter a while back made quite a good rule of thumb and though I don’t agree 100% it’s simple and effective “If you’re standing straight and you can’t see your vag when you look down then please allow those crop tops.” The only exceptions to this rule are girls who are heavily endowed in front. Spread the word people; let the world be cured of these misdemeanours!

Oh and of course I saved something for the guys, how could I leave you out J my number one pet peeve when it comes to the dress sense male species (and trust me I have many) is when you see these boys wearing some type of skinny jeans, I’m not talking slim fit or just skinny, I mean those SUPER skinny ones, you know the kinds that Pete Wentz used to wear when he was in Fall Out Boy? Those ones. And then you see boys with asses bigger than mine trying to fit all that and whatever else they might be packing into these super tight jeans! It just looks uncomfortable, especially when they decide to sag them! LE WORST! If you’re not as skinny as your jeans then please refrain!

*sigh* sorry I just had to let that all out, I’ve seen too much nonsense in the club!

Thanks for reading beautiful people

xxx

Stolen Suitcase!!

My suitcase got stolen. Yes, you read that right my suitcase got stolen. There is no other explanation for its unexplained disappearance. One faithful evening I was commuting from London to Manchester, on arrival at Manchester I realised that my baggage was gone. If you’ve ever watched the movie Flight Plan then you know exactly how I felt, I was so sure that I had embarked on this journey with a suitcase and there I was running helter skelter from carriage to carriage trying to locate this bag. After all of this I had to report the missing bag to a number of people, some woman asked me to estimate how much everything in the bag was worth, like that would help them bring it in any faster! Anyways, I eventually got my bag back, turns out some woman had taken it by mistake and left hers on the train. After informing various friends that my bag had been recovered fully intact and thanking God, I was warned several times to always put my luggage where I can see it or to at least check it from time to time to make sure it is still there.

I write this post as I’m sitting on the train on the return leg of my journey. Again, my suitcase is in an end carriage that I can’t see from my seat. I wonder if it would still be there when I arrive in London. LOL.

Forever Stubborn :)

My Latest Nemesis: A game with Friends

My grandparents are such a cute couple! You know, the kind that has grown together in love and what not, 50 years is a long time. Anyways this post isn’t really about them. It’s about Scrabble. You see, one of the things that my grandparents do together whenever they are on holiday and just chilling is play Scrabble. They have been doing this for years and even on holidays like Good Friday, all their friends come round, eat and drink and then end the evening in a competitive game of Scrabble while trading stories of life. I’ve played against my Grandma a few times but with her knowledge of vocabulary, especially Scrabble’s two letter words, she defeats me every time!

One would think that this means that I play a mean game of Scrabble having after all, learnt from the best. I even used to think I was a decent player. All of this changed when I met Afam! Just recently, I embarked on a game of  “Words with Friends” against my dearest Afam. Make no mistake, Afam is no friend when he plays this game and would soon to become my nemesis. Can I just say to those who might be thinking of challenging him in this game, tread carefully! From 64 point bangers to two letter words that when placed in the right squares bring in a massive 30 points. I have met a range of skilled players but never has any of them had an almost 200 points lead on me! My self-confidence is shattered! Dead, dead and dead again!

After this I decided that I needed to start reading more! The last time I read a novel was in June! Horrifying! Trust me, I know. But in an attempt to increase my vocabulary, I shall be browsing the shelves of Waterstones to find my summer reads. I will be posting my list as I compile it. Recommendations are much appreciated. I have decided to make it one of my summer goals to beat Afam in a game of “Words with Friends”.

Side note: The novel that I did read in June is called “The Memory of Love” by Sierra Leone-an (help here?) woman, Aminatta Forna. It is the most incredible story I’ve read this year! Set in post war S.L. It is a definite must read! I was going to include a whole spoiler section but the more weak-willed of you wouldn’t be able to resist and then you might not read the book, which would be doing yourself a disservice!

Ta ta for now!

Morenike xx

My Adventures in London Town

So I randomly have those days where I literally want to blog till my mind is emptied. Sometimes I look at blogging as a way of out pouring everything from my otherwise completely saturated mind on to paper or rather screen, whatever you want to call it and I just yap yap yap away until im satisfied! I guess what im trying to say is get ready to read some of the things that go on in the inner crevices of my mind. Whoopty Doo!

So the other day, I was on my way to Upton Park to go and get my hair done at some Jamaican woman's’ shop. Had to get up super early, which is always a struggle and a half and enter the stupid rush hour that the City of London is so infamous for. It was during this trip that I had a revelation! Well I suppose it’s not really a revelation if I’ve pretty much always known but yea. I can NOT live and work in London! It is just ridiculous!

The amount of people that pack themselves on to the London Underground every single morning during rush hour is ridiculous! From the lowly interns, to the ones that look like they own their own business in London Bridge, EVERYONE becomes united in their daily commute. And did I mention the heat?? It is beyond atrocious! How am I supposed to get to work feeling fresh and alert, if just 10 minutes before, I was packed tighter than sardines in a little carriage full of other hot sweaty people? It’s almost repulsive even! I understand all the perks of the underground trust me, it’s faster, it’s convenient, you don’t need to sit in hours of traffic etc. But I had to ask myself, is it EVER that deep?

Sadly, the answer is no! Not for me anyways, I’m not sure I can give up the life I have envisioned for myself in naij, rolling around in a car in and things. Even in traffic sef I don’t mind, as long as there’s A.C. I’d buy plantain chips from those boys and listen to Weezy baby (Wizkid btw, not Wayne).  Meanwhile before someone pounces, yes I know that this sounds spoilt and brattish and assuming I lived in London, perhaps I too will join those commuters (as if!) but guess what? It’s my opinion, not yours J

Anyways, the salon! It is the funniest place I’ve been too in a long while! After arriving there at 9.10 am, the rollers of the shop were still down, yet there was already a woman waiting, she hustled to secure her spot as number 1, arriving at a spectacular 8.30 a.m. luckily for me, I’m second. Anyways people keep pouring in till the doors are opened at about 9.45. At 10.30, customer number 4 arrives. She’s some crazy woman with her jacked up weave. Her conversation is as follows

Enters Crazy Lady

Crazy Lady: Please oh! I have a flight to catch by 3 and I have soo mant things to do today, I really need to do my hair quickly so I can leave here on time

                                  ***all customers and hairdressers stop and stare***

1^st Hairdresser: Okay aunty, please sit down, you will be after these people (points to all those waiting)

Crazy Lady: But where is Hawa? She knows me, I am her customer.

Let it be known now that Hawa is one of those boisterous Jamaican women that you can’t rush, or even attempt to fight with.

Customer 1: Yes, I am her customer 2 and I have been here since 8.30 and there are still people before you, if you wanted to be first you would have been here since!

Crazy Lady: Hmn, all I know is I must leave here by 1

Laughter ensues all around, as a black female you should know that going to the salon is a whole day fiasco! Minimum of 4 hours, so be prepared! This woman had very little chance of leaving before 4 p.m.

2^nd Hairdresser: Ahh, Aunty that one is not possible oh. But let us try sha.

30 minutes later, they have just started doing my cornrows, bearing in mind that I am number 2. Meanwhile in these 30 minutes she complained incessantly to customers 1 and 3, customer 3 is busy consoling her while explaining that she cannot come and ‘chance’ anyone, while customer 1 is slowly getting the truth about this flight at 3 p.m. surely the woman should be headed to the airport by now not so? Meanwhile, I was busy playing Temple Run and slightly eavesdropping to pass away the time.

Crazy Lady: Please I hate sitting here doing nothing, I’m going to go and come back. You people should keep my place oh!

(gossiping and laughter at her foolish ways after she had left)

11.30 a.m. Hawa the main hairdresser finally arrives, she is told of the tale and says in her Jamo accent “Don maind dat crazy gyal, she been calling ma phone al marning. I get other tins to do ya know.”

Unfortunately I have no idea whether she ever came back or not as I carried on with my life and was out of the salon at 2 p.m. I really wonder if she ever fixed her hair AND made that flight. Oh well

Adios!

“With This Ring I Thee Promise”- The Promise Ring Paradigm

I would never forget the look on my mother’s face and the confusion in mine when she sent me to buy my brother a gift for his (female) school friend whose birthday it was. Jewellery was the suggested present so I popped into Accesorize, looked around found this gorgeous ring, and bought it. On presenting it to my mother she went into swift Yoruba, roughly translating to “Ahh, Morenike, don’t you know any better? A boy cannot give a girl a ring lest he plans on proposing to her with said ring.”

Now truth be told, this came as news to me. It’s just like any other piece of jewellery as long as both parties are sure that the relationship is platonic no? Well apparently not. Which brings me to the topic of this blogpost, the much coveted promise ring. In essence, a promise ring, as made famous by Tiffany Evan’s and Ciara, is more or less a pre-engagement ring where the guy promises not to lie, cheat, hurt and/or whatever other bad things guys sometimes do to girls. Sweet huh? I know right.

My only beef with promise rings is when the guy in question is almost certainly should not be dashing out rings to anyone **cough** Chris Brown & Karrueche **cough**

As far as I’m concerned he still has eyes for Rihanna, especially if she was truly the cause for him and Drake’s recent blow up, but let’s allow that discussion for now. Neanderthals who do it just because they think it’s ‘cool’ need not degrade the value of the promise ring. I like to think of it as one of the highest forms of flattery before marriage but there I go, romanticising everything, I really do need to get out of my head sometimes. Anwyays, as you were.

Bisous xx