Archive | June 2012

Finding Hubby – Episode 10

Its three now months that I’ve been dating Yomi, two months since he proposed so dramatically and all my dreams about marriage were about to come true. I’m now on one tabloid or the other, from City People to Encomium to Saturday Punch. I’m on Linda Ikeji’s blog and Bellanaija. And when they put pictures of me up, I’m not referred to as Tiwa Savage and “guest” in the pictures I appear. Now they know my name. A picture containing Toke and I was tagged as Oyin Clegg and Friend. Toke was mad en, but my profile was hyped plenty (just kidding o). And for all those who were wondering about Yomi’s prowess in bed, let me just tell you that in spite of my (vast) experience, I was surprised that I always seemed to have one thing or the other to learn each time we were in bed.

When Yomi’s people came for the formal introduction, my mother did it like it was the actual engagement. Aso Ebi, souvenirs, photobook and co. She pulled all the stops, and she had every reason to. When they said she should pray, mumsy nearly embarrassed me with all the song and prayer drama. That my mama, she can be a drama queen. Not one to delay, and as money was not a constraint and we both are not kids, we set wedding date for a month later, about a week after his birthday. We intended to start the wedding celebrations with his birthday party and end it with a one of a kind reception bash. As my mama put it, aiye a gbo, orun a mo (translated – the world will hear and the heavens will know).

My greatest fear had been whether Yomi’s family would accept me. Would they like me? I was doing very well on my own, but all these pedigree families always want their sons to marry from their world, especially when he was an only son. And sisters can be so totally mean to whichever girl comes into the life of their only brother.

All my fears were unfounded. They all seemed glad and relieved that Yomi was finally about to settle down, and that he was not going to marry any of his Jamaican, Puerto Rican, French or Italian babes. I felt lucky and blessed. I reminisced on the many disappointments on my journey here. The many reasons I hadn’t gotten married – one I had loved that couldn’t perform in bed. One that thought his wife was meant to be the indentured servant of his lordship. One that wanted me to marry only dreams and talk of great futures. And plenty other orisirisi.  

I shall not bore you with the plenty activities that went into the weeks preceding the wedding week. Suffice to say I almost became a bridezilla, armed with my copy of Funke Buknor-Obruthe’s book. By the day of Yomi’s birthday party, I was exhausted, and had been ordered by Yomi to hands off the wedding preparations or there’d be no me left for him to marry.

The birthday party was a blast. We held it at Yomi’s house on Gerard Road in Ikoyi. The house was one of those colonial houses that had a vast compound, a driveway with trees that touched way up in the middle, shielding the sun away and a huge pool. When you live in those kinds of houses in Ikoyi, you had to be old Lagos money, very old money. And this would be my new home soon. I was already trying my hands on marshalling the staff that oversaw the property, no mean feat. By evening when the party began, I was already tired from all the organizing.

See, rich people know how to party. Rich people’s kids are on another level of knowing how to party, maybe because they are not the ones that made the money they spend on the parties. It was at this party that I first met Yomi’s best man. While Yomi was all stability and fun, Adamu was excitement and daredevil adrenaline personified. He wasn’t your typical northerner, his accent was not there at all, and he had those fine Fulani features that money and breeding accentuated further. Where Yomi was dark chocolate, he was yummy butter. And like all of Yomi’s friends I had met, he was into everything that spun money and was mega rich. I quickly steered him towards Toke and all my match making juices began to flow.

Once the party was in full swing, and I had shaken my bumbum to the admiration of Yomi and company and to the contentment of my heart, I decided to retire and sleep. I was too tired after all the work that had gone into putting it together. And I guessed that at some point, he would want to party alone with his boys without having his soon to be wife looking over his shoulder. It was already like 12midnight and the early effects of alcohol had begun to make people more excited. I did a quick check on Toke and she was already doing a good job with Adamu on her own. My good work for the night was done. I wasn’t doing badly as the soon to be chief hostess of the Kester-Jacobs family.

I woke up around 4am and checked my side to see if Yomi had joined me in bed. His side of the bed was empty, but the noise of the party had stopped so I knew the party was over. I checked my bb and saw a couple of messages. The only ones I bothered to read before I got up were Toke’s messages. Adamu had dropped her off at home at about 2am and things were looking promising with him. I tumbled out of bed and began to pick things up all over the house, sort of sleep walking through the house, hoping to see Yomi sleeping on some couch or bed in one of the many rooms. I couldn’t find him after about twenty minutes of wondering around the big house. I’m not one to panic but I have a sixth sense, and this morning, it was telling me to find my man.

The house was a mess. I strayed into the kitchen. The plump cook, Clara was already up, cleaning after the party. “Madam, good morning o”, she greeted. “Clara, how are you. Have you seen your oga?”

“Oga follow Oga Adamu commot”, she answered.

Relieved that he had not run off with some random girl, I went back into the main house. That also meant Toke didn’t do badly, Adamu left her so he could have some boy catching up time with Yomi. I made a mental note to let Toke know this.

I wandered around the house for a bit. And if it hadn’t been so quiet that early in the morning (and I hadn’t been so idle) I wouldn’t have heard it. But faint as it was, I heard sounds coming from the direction of Yomi’s home office. I picked up pace as I moved towards the office.

As I got closer to the office, the sounds got louder, even though they were still somewhat muffled. My heartbeat quickened as I approached the door and the blood began to pound in my ears. My imagination ran a marathon in the short distance I covered to reach it.

I opened the door, slightly at first, and the muffled sounds became clear. Yomi’s voice. And another. I angrily threw the door open, imagining the evil things I would do to the girl I was about to catch my man with.

I got the shocker of my life. Yomi was making love to Adamu on the office table.

Finding Hubby – Episode 9

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Option taken – three. Yes, against all my Lagos sharp sense, I decided to take a risk on Yomi and tell him the truth, and scenario three played out. Lesson learnt – if you want it long term with someone, come out clean, no hidden anything. He looked me in the eye after I had told him and said “Oyin, if you had lied, I would have known and I would have ended it here and now.” And I knew he meant it.

Sunday was my day with my girls (proudly so). I could regale you with all the tales of our day at the beach, but the only part you are gonna read is the fact that the oooohs and aaaahs that I got as I told them about Yomi and I could fill a book. Toke knew of Yomi (who Toke no sabi), and she told me I had hit it big if I hooked him. Glo was also very happy for me and I felt refreshed and ready for the week. Okay, lemme give you guys a bit of juicy gist from Gloria. Remember Alvin who was supposed to send the iPad that I was supposed to win in the episode about Mr. X (RME) with the H factor? Well, Gloria thought they were headed somewhere. He’s based in Jand and used to call her a lot initially. Recently, he has reduced his calling and he’s been complaining about all sorts and giving excuses for not calling. She called him while I was away in Dubai, and the conversation went something like this

Gloria:   Hello darling

Female Voice: May I know who is speaking? (English accent)

Gloria:   That’s my line. Why are you answering my boyfriend’s phone

Female Voice: Because I’m his wife and the mother of his two kids?

Gloria:   (Quiet)

Female Voice: Alvin… come and get the phone

Alvin:    Who is this?

Gloria:   Who was that?

Alvin:    My wife.

Gloria:   Alvin, you are married…

Alvin:    I can explain. It’s for my papers. It’s one oyinbo woman.

Gloria slammed the phone

All these foolish men that will come here and be deceiving us. That’s why me I don’t do distance. Too much room for lies and deceit abeg. The talk is in the eyes, oju loro wa.

Monday and I got to work and raced to my desk. I avoided going anywhere I thought I would meet Ossy. That’s the issue with office anything. I had not even dated and broken up with him and it was this awkward. I couldn’t imagine how it would be if we had actually dated. Gladly, I knew it was a bad idea and didn’t date him.

Apart from that, the day was a blast. Everyone commented on how well I looked and how good the rest must have been. I chose not to call Yomi to see if our first work day apart would be a no talk during the day kinda work day. My booboo sugarbunny snucklesnuggle (did u roll your eyes?) called me thrice during the day and we talked (I used my handsfree o, all you LASTMA people reading this) all through my drive home.

And so my week went something like this – great days at work, two dinners with boo, and #my lips are sealed about these parts#. Suffice to say that I had ice cream eaten off me and so on and so forth.  

On Saturday morning, I decided to check on Gloria and squeeze breakfast out of her lazy ass. I thought I was through with shockers in this my life, but I got a huge one as I rounded the bend into her street. There was my yellow pawpaw friend, leaning over a car I was very familiar with and kissing the occupant squarely on the lips. The car drove past mine as I tried to park properly, and it was gone before I got out of my car.

“Gloria, what was that you were doing with Ossy?”

Gloria gave me a look that said en en and then fired “Question! What did it seem like I was doing?”

“But Glo, it’s Ossy now. You cannot be seriously seeing him now. It’s just wrong on different levels.”

“Why? Tell me one reason why? It’s not like you are dating him or like you ever did. Now that you’ve found you a good man, na only you wan marry? Me I didn’t see anything bad in Ossy, and so I called him up. We hooked up, and he shared his own heartbreak and I shared mine. And one thing led to another. What exactly is wrong about dating a very single man who seems ready to settle down and is seriously talking marriage at my 36years old?”

“Glo, seriously talking marriage after how long now? He was seriously thinking marriage with me just a few weeks ago. It smells fishy o”

“So it smells fishy because it’s not you abi? Please spare me abeg”.

I just stood speechless because I knew she was in the right with everything she was saying, but a certain but kept playing at the back of my mind. It just didn’t sit right. In that split second, I had to caution myself. Was I expecting Ossy to keep waiting for me ni? And shouldn’t I have been happy for him when I expected him to be happy for me when he met Yomi? And it wasn’t really worth quarreling with Gloria over. Really not.

“Oya sorry dear, na just shock catch me”, I said, smiling at Gloria. I could see she was visibly relieved that I wasn’t going to make issues out of this situation.

“Since man sleep for your house, I hope you sha cooked for him because me na food I come chop for your house.”

“Yes now, I had to show him I’m wife material now”

“En, and I know it’s not just in the cooking you showed him, oya gist me every every abeg.”

She threw her head back and laughed. It was good to see my friend laugh. “You know that thing Toke said about Bini men…”

I winked and laughed too “Dem no dey carry last at all at all”

She winked too and led me into the house for the “fullness of the gist therein”, lol.

A month later, Gloria and Ossy were married and I was the chief bride’s maid.

In my heart, as I stood behind her and my friends said I do to each other, I looked back at my own man in the aisle. It was going so well with Yomi, I couldn’t help but be happy for Glo and Ossy. Somewhere in my heart, a small voice told me this would be my last bride’s maid assignment. I said a silent amen.

And as if in answer to my prayer, at the wedding reception, rather than throw her bouquet, Glo walked up to me and handed it over to me. I was still trying to understand what all that was about when Yomi walked up to me, dropped on one knee and proposed. I nearly fainted in delight. No words came to my mouth. I could only nod my answer, so vigorously my head almost dropped off.

I thought my search was over at long last.

I couldn’t be more wrong.

Finding Hubby – Episode 8

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I got back from Dubai five days later, with my man. Now that’s the sweetest thing to say. Me, Oyin omo Clegg that left Lagos manless, am returning with a man, and a hec hunk of a man. I wish I would run into that Moroti again now, so I could smugly answer all her snide questions, but fate would not have it so. And you know, the sweetest thing about Yomi is that all through our stay in Dubai, he didn’t ask for sex (even though I was hoping he would #evilgrin#). He wanted to prove to me that it was not just a holiday/business trip fling he wanted. SO he told me that we would save the real deal (yes, there were other things I shall keep only to myself) until much later. Men, o ti ba mi seriously for this guy. It felt like I’d known him for more than the few days we had spent in Dubai. We had connected on so many levels. The trip had been so much fun, and he had spoilt me silly, shopping, spa treatments, exotic meals et al. These days sha, I have toned down on the dreaming (wisely so, after my last set of experiences), so I hadn’t started imagining us walking down any aisle or dancing to Chop My Money at our wedding reception.

For the first time when I was returning from outside, I didn’t notice the Naija heat as we stepped out of the plane. I practically waltzed to the arrival lounge to wait for my luggage. I couldn’t be bothered that the air-conditioning wasn’t working there. Yomi guided me away from the conveyor belt, “We don’t have to wait dear; my people will sort the luggage out and deliver it to your house”. See levels o. #In Jenifa Voice# ayam on the fast track! Lol. This was the life men. I couldn’t wait to fill my girls in on my trip. I had loads of pictures on my iPad and BB to ensure that my gist was substantiated with visual evidence lest they began to think I had gone so delusional I was now having an imaginary boyfriend.

I was so engrossed in this world I didn’t see him. But he had seen me, seen it all. Seen me all over Yomi. Seen Yomi playfully kiss my forehead. Even seen me slap his butt as I laughed at a joke. He stood transfixed to the spot he was, and I’m sure if he was white, he would have been bright red from the look on his face. I looked up and I saw Ossy standing, a bouquet of roses in hand, eyes blazing at me. In my enraptured world, I had totally forgotten about the reason I had been on my way to Dubai in the first place. This was bad, really bad. How would I manage Ossy to make sure he didn’t create any scene? How would I explain to Yomi that there was nothing between me and this man who knew my travel plans so well that he knew when to wait at the airport, rose in hand for me? Ossy stood where he was, as if daring me not to come to him.

“Yomi, I’ve gotta say hello to someone, I’ll be back shortly”. Thankfully, he was on the phone and only nodded. I walked gingerly towards Ossy, feeling like a child who had done something bad and was about to face her daddy for that wrongdoing.

“Hi”, I ventured.

“And what the hell are you doing with him all like that?” he asked not so calmly, his hands saying more than his lips were.

I firmed my voice up. After all, I wasn’t dating Ossy, and had the right to see anyone I wanted. “I met him on the trip and we connected. And take that look out of your eyes, he hasn’t touched me”.

“Of course he hasn’t”, Ossy said sarcastically.

I was angered. “What exactly do you mean by that? And why do I have to explain myself to you?”

He threw the roses on the floor and smiled “of course you don’t have to. And as to what I meant, you’ll find out in due time”.

The smile sent a chill down my spine more than anything Ossy said. I placed a hand on his shoulder and tried to plead with him “Ossy, you are my friend. I always thought you would be happy for me when I finally met someone. Now is the time to be happy for me dear. Please.” He put a hand on my hand and looked into my eyes and it was only then I could see the sadness there. Then he took my hands of his shoulder and let it go. Right there, I felt a deep sense of loss. I had lost a friend.

“Hey dear, who’s this?” Yomi asked from behind me. I tried to formulate all the answers I could that would make sense in my head, but I drew on blanks.

“I’m Ossy, her colleague from work. Meeting my madam here today jare, she’s been away for barely a week and it seems like an eternity already”, Ossy answered, chuckling.

Yomi laughed too. “That’s this love thing o,” he said, putting his arms around me to mark me as “territory”. I have never felt that awkward, but Ossy was such a sport. Then Yomi turned to me “time to go dear, driver’s waiting and luggage is all sorted”.

We said our goodbyes and I walked away with Yomi. I couldn’t look back to see Ossy. I knew I wasn’t doing anything technically wrong, cos I hadn’t asked for any of the things Ossy had done for me, neither was I dating him. But I still felt real bad.

Two cars had come to pick us, an Armada for the luggage and a G-Wagon for us. Expectedly, the moment the car moved, he asked “So who really is that guy”? I weighed my options in my head.

  • Option 1 – Lie so well and get away with it (I doubted I’d be able to pull that off)
  • Option 2 – Lie so badly it would look like I was hiding something and lose Yomi
  • Option 3 – Tell the truth and Yomi would believe and all would be well
  • Option 4 – Tell the truth and Yomi would believe there’s more between Ossy and I than I told him and lose him.

Life is so unfair. The odds are totally stacked against me. Why is it that of the four options, three have to end badly for me? Would I have to delete those pictures and have no stories to tell Toke and Gloria when I get home today?

I looked into his eyes and made my choice.

Finding Hubby – Episode 7

And so Oyin Clegg broke out of her depression. Not exactly getting her groove back yet o. And she’s happy, a man might have finally killed the dragon to come rescue her from the dungeon of singleness with his sweetness. See me o, as Ossy is making me wax lyrical. Me that called in sick at work that morning was in a cab enroute the airport, looking all fly, omo toh badt gaan. I wore my favorite jeans, one that made men turn around and take a second look at my behind, and a chiffon top with a hat to match and my very tech specs. I surveyed myself before my mirror for a few minutes. If you can have a tummy like mine at 35 without body magic and lipo, then you are one of the chosen few (some of you will say shebi I haven’t had kids yet, but darris your consign #yimu). Satisfied with what I saw, I called my cab man. I’m one of those that yab people for coming to the airport dressed as if they were going to a Paris runway, but hec, I’m feeling gay and intend to dress every inch so. I tried Ossy’s number again but when it didn’t go through, I kuku sent him a VN, expressing (profuse) thanks and calling him many sweet names I shall not mention to you.

Onto big girl things, I didn’t use any of those painted cabs. My cab man drove a black Honda City, with full blasting ac. With Lagos traffic, caused by unruly drivers, things like Lekki toll gate and the sheer number of we Lagosians that equate owning your own car to a status symbol, the ac is very essential.

After battling mad traffic, I made it to the airport just on time. Thankfully, Ossy had checked me in online and I didn’t have excess luggage, so I just went up, got frisked and went into the waiting area to chill for the next 30minutes for my flight (30mins before is just on time for a flight in Naija). I was so engrossed in the Tunde Leye novel I was reading on my iPad, I didn’t notice her when she walked up to me, until her hands covered the screen. I was about to give it to the person when I saw who it was. And she was the last person I wanted to see.

You know those people that seem to have perfect lives, as against your own. Got into university right out of secondary school when you waited for Jamb for a year. Got a 2 1 while being very popular in school, whereas you had to select which semester you wanted to pass and which you wanted to be social. Has a job just as good as yours. Got married in her mid twenties. Has a fine hubby. Two kids, one boy and one girl. And the person has a way of asking “innocent” questions that are really veiled barbs aimed at you where it pains most. And each time you see her, you are reminded of how much your life is missing. That’s the five foot eight yellow pawpaw standing in front of me now.

“Hi Oyin, so nice to run into you…”

“Moroti, moroti (fake smile from me), how now? Been a while o. where are you headed”.

“My own waka no dey pass UK now. Are you traveling alone? (barb question 1, meaning, hope you have finally found a man)

I responded “Holidaying in Dubai.”

“Abdul is around with the kids o, I left him with them there when I saw you and decided to come say hi”. (Barb 2, meaning some of us have a family we travel with).

We chatted for a bit, and she kept throwing the barbs, until the announcer saved me. Normally, they have to announce like three times before I go and board, but today, before the first announcement was finished, I escaped from Moroti sharply. No goodie two shoes was gonna spoil my mood for this trip.

In no time, I boarded and was glad I had a window seat. On my way in, I had passed one of those agbayas that still dress like Wizkid and Davido wannabes when they’re over thirty. Beats me how a full grown man will want to dress like a boy. Some of them are old enough to be Davido’s daddy o. Anyway, I stowed away my luggage overhead and took my seat.

Not wanting to be disturbed, I looked intently into the window and got lost in thought, oblivious to the goings-on around me.

“Interesting convo with your friend there”, came a thick, rich baritone from beside me, drawing me out of my beautiful thoughts. I turned to see who had such a lovely voice, praying in that breath that the man would match his voice.

Oh my God, yes oh my goodness gracious God. The prayer was answered. Emphatically answered. Resoundingly answered. Beside me was my dream. Taye Diggs complexion. Chocolatey (pronounce Cha-ka-lay-ti 😀 ) Even seated you could tell he was tall. Age, I put somewhere in the range of 37 (yes, I have inbuilt age sensors in my eyes). Well put together. Immaculately dressed. Well manicured finger nails. Those dancing, intelligent kinda eyes. Handsoooooooome. Mo gbe, mo ku, mo daran (in Wande Coal voice inside my head).

I straightened up sharply, thankful I had taken care to dress as well as I did. He introduced himself as Yomi Kester-Jacobs. My head did a quick memory search. It couldn’t be the same Kester-Jacobs, Lagos big family (yes I keep well informed of such). And if I wasn’t mistaken, this Yomi was the scion and only son of that family. “Oyin Clegg”, I said calmly, masking the riot of thoughts going through my mind. “So are you really travelling alone?” he pressed. I didn’t have any qualms admitting that to a dashing stranger who seemed alone himself. “Yeah”, I replied. “And you?”

He was alone too. I knew this Yomi to be single, from the tabloids. I asked if he was just stopping over in Dubai enroute elsewhere in Asia and he wasn’t. He was in Dubai for four days on business. I told him I was in Dubai for five days. “Well, it is not good for man to be alone, so says the Holy Book,” he joked, and then offered to be my company in Dubai. I did a backflip in my mind. “Sure”, I said chic-ily.

By the time I landed in Dubai, I had all but forgotten about Ossy. And so began my whirlwind romance with Lagos big boy, Yomi Kester-Jacobs.