And she stood before him, quiet, looking down at a man who had probably spent his entire life learning how not to bend.

I wondered what it took to bring him there.

How many times had he swallowed an apology because the words felt too heavy on his tongue? How many nights had he lain awake, missing someone, only to wake up the next morning and pretend he hadn't? How many times had his pride won an argument his heart desperately wanted to lose?

And now, here he was.

Kneeling.

Perhaps he had called her name a dozen times before she finally turned around, perhaps his hands trembled when he reached for hers, perhaps he had rehearsed a thousand things to say, only to find that love had left him with nothing but the truth.

“Please.”

One little word.

Funny how a man can carry the weight of the world on his shoulders and still find himself undone by the possibility of losing one woman.

We speak so much about a man's strength. His ability to provide, to protect, to endure. We admire the way he stands his ground, how he never lets the world see him sweat.

But what about the man who knows when to soften?

The man who doesn't mistake tenderness for weakness, who can apologise without feeling diminished, who can look at the woman he loves and say, I need you, without hearing an echo of shame in his own voice.

There is something beautiful about him.

Something almost sacred.

Because he could stand, he could walk away, he could gather what remains of his pride and convince himself that losing her was better than letting her know how much she mattered.

But he doesn't.

And I think that is where the beauty lies.

Not in the knees touching the floor, but in the heart that no longer considers love a battle to be won.

Perhaps she will take his hands, perhaps she will turn away. We do not know what happens next.

But for one brief moment, he has stopped trying to look invincible.

He is simply a man in love.

And perhaps the bravest thing he will ever do is not to stand up again, but to rise knowing that he never had to be ashamed of kneeling.

For what is pride, really, if protecting it means losing the very thing that makes you want to stay?

And I don't mean the kind where somebody buys you roses on Valentine's Day, posts you on Instagram with a long caption about how you're their peace, and then proceeds to stress you for the remaining 364 days of the year, no, babe. We're talking about ROMANCE.

The kind that makes you giggle at your phone like a person who has temporarily misplaced their home training🌚. The kind that has you rereading a message for the eleventh time, not because you don't understand English, but because WHY DID THEY SAY IT LIKE THAT?🤭

I think romance is one of those things we all have an idea of until somebody asks us to explain it. Then suddenly, we're stammering.

Personally, I think romance is a combination of many things. And while I'm a firm believer in soft love, thoughtful gestures, and being treated like somebody's precious little baby, I also think romance needs a little spice.

Not pepper soup levels of pepper that will have you questioning all your life decisions. Just enough to make things interesting😂.

The flirting. Please, the FLIRTING.

I need people to understand that flirting is an art form.

There is a difference between somebody saying, "You're beautiful," and somebody looking at you and saying something so unexpectedly smooth that you suddenly forget every sensible thing you've ever said in your life.

Both are compliments, yes. But one has you smiling politely, and the other has you staring at the wall like the answer to all your problems is written there.

And don't even get me started on playful teasing.

That little back-and-forth between two people who know exactly what they're doing? ELITE😌🤏🏾

When someone knows how to make you laugh, challenges you just enough, remembers your comebacks and gives you that look that says, "Oh, so that's how we're playing today?"

Please.

I would like to speak to the management.

Because why am I blushing? I was perfectly fine five minutes ago😭😂

But here's the thing: good flirting isn't about making somebody uncomfortable or playing games with their feelings. It's about mutual interest, confidence, and that delicious little moment when both people know there's something happening, but neither wants to make it too obvious just yet.

We're flirting, not conducting an investigation into why somebody hasn't replied to our message since Tuesday😹.

Please know the difference.

And then there's the tension. THE TENSION.

If romance were a meal, chemistry would be the seasoning, but tension? Tension is the part that makes you lean forward in your chair.

It's the almosts.

The almost-confession. The lingering eye contact. The moment somebody stands a little closer than necessary, and you suddenly become very aware of the fact that you have hands, a face, and absolutely no idea what to do with either.

It's when a conversation that could have ended five minutes ago somehow continues for another hour because neither of you wants to leave.

You see, I don't think romance has to rush to prove itself. Sometimes, the anticipation is part of the magic.

And no, I am not talking about deliberately keeping somebody confused or turning communication into an Olympic sport.

There is a difference between anticipation and anxiety.

One has you excited to see what happens next while the other has you analysing a full stop at the end of a text message.

We are NOT confusing the two😭🤚🏽

Give me chemistry that feels effortless. Give me two people who can hold a conversation, laugh at each other's nonsense, and still have those little moments where the room feels different.

And if there's a little eye contact involved?

Well. Who am I to complain?🤭

Thoughtful gestures? Oh, I'm listening.

Listen, I enjoy the idea of grand romantic gestures as much as the next person with an active imagination.

Take me somewhere beautiful, buy me something thoughtful, plan a date that makes me wonder how you managed to think of all those details.

I will appreciate it, I will smile and I might even tell the story more than once. 😂

But do you know what else gets me?

Being listened to.

Mentioning something casually in a conversation and discovering that the person actually remembered it weeks later.

Someone remembering the snack I like, someone noticing when my mood changes, someone sending me something that reminded them of me, even though there was absolutely no occasion to justify it.

Someone saying, "I remembered you said you wanted to try this place, so I made a reservation."

EXCUSE ME???

You were listening when I was rambling? You retained the information? You took initiative? You made a plan?

Oh, this is getting serious😭❤️

Because thoughtful romance tells you something that a random grand gesture sometimes cannot: somebody is paying attention to who you are.

Your little preferences, your random interests, the things that make your face light up and I think there's something incredibly romantic about being known in that way.

That kind of affection? Very dangerous to my composure🌚🤭

Now, can we talk about affection?

Because some people are romantic in theory but suddenly become members of a secret society when it's time to show affection.

You're in a relationship, but everything feels like you're both trying to win an award for Most Emotionally Unavailable Person of the Year.

Nobody wants to say anything sweet first, nobody wants to look like they care too much. Everybody is trying to maintain a mysterious aura.

For what, please?

Is there a prize for acting like you don't like the person you're actively choosing to date?😭

I want the kind of romance where affection isn't treated like a limited resource.

Where you can tell someone you miss them without feeling like you've surrendered your entire dignity. Where holding hands is natural, hugs last a little longer, and compliments aren't rationed like provisions during a national emergency.

And yes, where you can be bold enough to express attraction.

Because I think there's a special kind of intimacy in knowing that someone doesn't just care about you but is genuinely drawn to you and because we simply don't do nochalant over here

They like your mind, they enjoy your company, they notice your smile. They want to be close to you.

Romance should have room for reassurance, honesty and two people who enjoy each other without pretending that having feelings is some embarrassing character flaw.

Babe, you like them. They like you. PLEASE PROCEED. 😂

But let's not pretend that the spice isn't important. 🤭

Now we've arrived at my favourite part.

Because, yes, give me emotional intimacy, give me thoughtful gestures, give me conversations that stretch into the night.

But can we also have a little mischief?🌚

A little playful confidence, a little boldness, a little "Are you trying to distract me right now?" energy.

I think romance can be soft without being predictable. It can be affectionate without losing its spark. It can be comfortable without becoming careless.

Sometimes, the person you love should still be able to surprise you.

Plan a date you didn't expect. Whisper a compliment that makes you smile for the rest of the evening, pull you into a spontaneous dance in the kitchen, send a message that makes you look around your room as if somebody might have witnessed you smiling that hard.

And sometimes, the spice is simply in how two people interact.

The teasing, the playful challenges, the private jokes nobody else understands. The way a conversation can move from absolute nonsense to something unexpectedly intimate.

Imagine dating somebody and still having crushes on them, imagine being comfortable enough to be yourself but still excited to impress them, imagine having both peace and butterflies.

Now THAT is an interesting arrangement🤭.

And the beautiful thing is that none of this requires mind games, jealousy competitions, or making somebody fear losing you just to keep them interested.

A little spice should add excitement to a connection, not turn it into a survival exercise.

We're looking for butterflies, not blood pressure. Thank you very much😌😂.

Anyway, here's my final verdict.

I don't want romance that is all grand gestures and no substance. I don't want a connection that looks beautiful to everybody else but feels confusing to the people inside it.

I want the sweetness, the laughter, the intentionality, the tension, the playfulness, and the chemistry.

I want someone who can make me feel safe enough to be soft and excited enough to still get butterflies.

Someone who knows that romance isn't just about what you do on special occasions. It's also about the little ways you choose each other on completely ordinary days.

And if they happen to be a little flirty, a little cheeky, and just charming enough to make me forget the point I was trying to make?

Well, nobody is perfect. I shall endeavour to manage the situation. 🤭

So yes, romance, please.

But make it thoughtful.

Make it playful.

Make it intentional.

Make it a little unpredictable.

Make it soft enough to feel like home and exciting enough to keep me looking forward to tomorrow.

And, for the love of everything good, make the flirting GOOD.

Because I can buy myself flowers, take myself on dates, and write myself sweet little notes.

But if you're going to enter my life romantically, I expect you to bring a little something to the table.

Preferably good conversation, emotional intelligence, a functioning sense of humour, and the ability to plan a date without asking me to decide every single detail.

The bar is not in hell, and neither am I😭🤚🏽😂

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have romantic expectations to romanticise and absolutely no business being this invested in a hypothetical situation😌

Unless...

Anyway, byee🤭❤️

E choke, choken’t it?😭😂(Sorry for the laugh 🫢)

One minute you're calling someone “my person,” planning your future together, and the next minute you're staring at your phone wondering what exactly went wrong and what didn't you do right.

Let's be honest, heartbreak is not funny.

Okay, maybe later it is funny when you have healed and you can look back and say, “Wait, I was actually crying over this person?”😂

But when the heartbreak is still fresh, oh my gracious goodness!…🥲😂

And honestly you know what?

Take your time.

Cry if you need to cry, eat, sleep, listen to that one sad song you've suddenly decided is your personal anthem, tell your friends the whole story. Then tell it again because somehow, every time you narrate it, another detail enters. 😂

Be angry, be confused.

Have your “men are scum/women are cheat” phase if you must🤷.

But after all the crying, after the anger, after the blocking and unblocking, after that one final check of their page that somehow turns into twenty checks…, heal.

Because one thing we don't talk about enough is how easy it is to leave one relationship and carry the whole relationship into the next one.

Your ex cheated, so now everybody is a suspect.

Your ex was inconsistent, so now one “good morning” without a follow-up has you wondering if you've entered another situationship.

Your ex ghosted you, so now anybody who takes three hours to reply has committed a capital offence.

Your ex lied to you, so now you need CCTV footage, fingerprints and three witnesses before believing “I was busy”😮‍💨

And honestly, I get it.

When somebody hurts you, your brain starts trying to protect you from experiencing that pain again.

But babe, not everybody is your ex.

And that's where healing comes in.

Healing isn't pretending that what happened didn't hurt.

It isn't suddenly becoming “unbothered.”

It isn't deleting their number on Monday and checking their WhatsApp status from your friend's phone on Tuesday.

And it definitely isn't jumping into another relationship because you want to prove that “I have moved on.”

Sometimes, you just need to sit down and deal with what happened to you because imagine meeting someone genuinely good and making them prove every Eke market day that they are not your ex.

That's exhausting.

For you and for the innocent person standing there like, “Omo, what did I do?” 😭

You can't keep making new people pay for old people's sins.

Your new person didn't cheat on you, they didn't lie to you, they didn't ghost you.

They weren't the one who broke your heart!

So why should they have to spend the entire relationship proving that they won't?

Healing is being able to say:

“What happened to me hurt me, but it doesn't get to decide how I treat the next person.”

And no, healing doesn't mean you have to become some perfectly put-together human being before you're allowed to love again.

Nobody is that put together, please, everything na packaging 😂.

You can still have your insecurities, you can still be scared, you can still have bad days.

You just have to be honest enough to know when your past is speaking louder than your present.

So before you enter somebody's life with your fine face, fine outfit and emotional luggage of 23kg...

Unpack first.

Deal with your trust issues.

Learn how to communicate.

Learn what you actually want.

Learn that having boundaries is different from building a whole prison around your heart.

And please, don't rush into another relationship because you're lonely.

Being single for a while will not kill you. You don't need a new person to prove that you're desirable. You don't need somebody new to help you forget somebody old.

Sometimes, you just need to be by yourself and breathe because I don't want to love you while you're still busy surviving what somebody else did to you.

Come with your scars, yes.

I'm not asking you to be perfect.

Just don't hand me wounds I didn't create and ask me to bleed with you.

Come to me healed.

Not perfect.

Just healed enough to understand that I'm a new person, not your ex with a different face.

Because honestly?

I don't want to be fighting a ghost.

HEAL.

Then come♥️.

Femi, is one of them not because the name is ugly. Actually, Femi is a very nice name. It is the person carrying it that is the problem.

I had successfully removed Femi from my life.

Or so I thought.

I had deleted his number, archived our chat, stopped checking his last seen even stopped doing that thing where I would open Instagram and somehow find myself on his page after twenty minutes.

I was healing, growing and becoming a woman.

Then, on a completely normal Wednesday afternoon, my phone buzzed.

Femi: Hey Mama.

I stared at the message.

No.

Absolutely not.

I put my phone down.

Two minutes later, I picked it up again. The message was still there.

Unfortunately, so was my foolishness.

I opened it.

“Hey.”

One word. Safe, mature, emotionally responsible.

I was proud of myself.

Then he replied.

“You still reply like you’re angry with me.”

I rolled my eyes because why did he still know me like that?

And more importantly, why did my stomach just do that small annoying thing it used to do whenever his name appeared on my screen?

I hated that. I hated him.

Well…

I didn't hate him🥲.

That was actually the problem.

Because Femi had always been very good at returning just when I had finally gotten over him and I had always been very good at pretending I didn't care.

We had never officially dated.

That was the funny part.

If anybody asked me what Femi was to me, I would say “Nothing.”

If they asked him, he would probably say, “It's complicated.”

And if you asked me at 1:47a.m when my defences were low and my Wi-Fi was strong?

I would probably tell you the truth.

I liked that man.

A lot.

Maybe too much😫.

Femi was the kind of person who could make you feel like the only girl in the room without actually saying anything romantic.

He remembered little things, he knew when I was pretending to be fine, he could make me laugh when I was genuinely angry and he had this irritating habit of looking at me for two seconds longer than necessary before smiling.

Which, frankly, was criminal.

So yes, I liked him.

And yes, he knew.

And yes, he still did absolutely nothing useful with that information.

Until now.

Because after that first message, Femi started talking to me again.

Nothing serious, just little conversations.

“How's your day?”

“Have you eaten?”

“Remember that place we went to?”

“You still hate oats?”

Normal things.

Innocent things.

Things that should not have been enough to make me start smiling at my phone like a fool.

But I did.

I even caught myself telling my friend, “Femi texted me”

She looked at me then looked at my phone then looked back at me.

“Didn't you say you were done with him?”

“I am”

“You're smiling”

“I'm not”

“You are literally glowing”

“I have good skin”

She sighed.

“You're going back”

“I am not going anywhere”

And that was the exact moment Femi sent:

“Can I see you this weekend?”

I stared at the screen, my friend stared at me.

I stared at her.

She didn't even need to say anything, her face had already said it.

Femi again.

And unfortunately…

my heart said,

Yes, Femi again😩😂.

1. Always have money you’re not supposed to have.

I’m not telling you to start hiding money from your family like you’re running a secret operation oo, I mean that small emergency money that you pretend doesn't exist because trust me, something will happen.

Your phone will suddenly misbehave, your charger might suddenly decide to start acting like a clingy boyfriend in need of attention, someone might invite you somewhere when your account balance is looking like a typo, transport fare will increase because apparently bus drivers woke up and chose violence.

Keep emergency money.

And forget that it exists.

Please! This part is very important because the moment you remember you have ₦5,000 somewhere, you’ll suddenly start thinking of things you “need.”

“I’ve been meaning to buy this.”

“No, but I actually need that.”

“My data is almost finished.”

Next thing, your emergency money has become shawarma.

Forget the money.

Let it stay there infact let it grow cobwebs.

2. Learn how to say “no” without writing an entire essay.

“No.”

Beautiful word.

Very short, very powerful, very underused.

You don't have to write, “Ah, I’m so sorry, I would have loved to, but you know recently things have been…”

No.

That’s the whole message.

Because why are you submitting a 500-word explanation because you don't want to attend somebody's party?

You said no.

Nobody died.

And if they ask why, you can still say, “I just don't want to.”

Character development.

Honestly, some of us need to stop giving TED Talks every time we decline an invitation.

Sometimes NO is enough.

3. If someone says “Can I ask you something?”

Just know that peace has ended because nobody ever says, “Can I ask you something?” before asking what your favourite colour is.

It is always something suspicious.

“Are you angry with me?”

“What exactly happened between you and that person?”

“Do you still like him?”

Or the most dangerous one:

“Be honest with me.”

Ahhhh!

At that point, even your ancestors are telling you to choose your next words carefully.

And why do people say “be honest with me” like you were planning to lie before they arrived😭?

Once you hear that sentence, sit properly, put your phone down, take a deep breath. Everything is about to get SERIOUS.

4. Stop explaining yourself to people who have already decided to misunderstand you.

Sometimes you can explain something from beginning to end, add screenshots, bring witnesses and even produce CCTV footage.

They will still say, “Hmm, I don't know, I just feel like…”

Leave them because what exactly are you still explaining?

You have provided evidence, given context, infact you have practically turned the situation into a documentary and they are still committed to misunderstanding you.

Please rest.

You are not doing a PhD in Convincing People To Understand Me.

Some people have already written their own version of the story so let them enjoy it🥂.

5. Never let loneliness convince you that the bare minimum is premium.

Being lonely can make nonsense look romantic. 😭. Somebody texts you “what you doing?” twice in a week and suddenly you’re thinking maybe this is the person God sent.

No, my love.

Sometimes you are not in love, you are just bored and there is nobody to talk to.

Don't start calling inconsistent communication “mysterious”, one-word replies “calm personality”, and disappearing for three days “giving me space.”

Pleaseeeee

The bare minimum is still the bare minimum, even if you’ve been single for six months, you deserve somebody whose effort doesn't have to be investigated like a missing person.

6. When you're broke, stay indoors!

This is not financial advice, this is SURVIVAL, because once you leave the house, money will start disappearing mysteriously.

“Let me just buy water.”

₦300.

“Let me get something small.”

₦1,500.

“Let me enter keke.”

₦500.

Then somehow you have spent money you didn't even know you had.

Suddenly you are checking your account balance like:

What happened here?

Nothing happened.

You left the house.

That’s what happened😏.

Being broke outside is a different kind of suffering, I'm not gonna lie to you.

You will see people eating, buying things, entering Bolt, buying ice cream… and you will just be there calculating how many days are left until money enters your account.

Stay at home, watch something, sleep, read.

Stare at the ceiling if necessary.

Your money is safer with you indoors.

7. Don't send angry messages immediately.

Type it, curse if you must, pour out your heart.

Write a whole novel, put every single thing you have been keeping inside there, then put your phone down.

Come back tomorrow.

Read it again.

You will probably delete 87% of it.

The remaining 13% will be:

“Okay.”

Send that one.

Because nothing humbles you like rereading an angry message you wrote at 1:47a.m when you're calm.

Suddenly you're seeing things differently.

“Why did I type all this?”

“Who sent me?”

“Why did I use that emoji?”

Exactly.

Sleep first. Reply later.

Your future self will thank you.

8. Never check your account balance immediately after spending money.

You already know you spent the money so why are you going back to confirm your suffering? 😭

Just enjoy yourself first.

Let the food digest.

Let the purchase settle.

Give yourself at least 30 minutes before opening that app and seeing the damage because sometimes you check immediately and start asking yourself questions like:

“Who sent me?”

Nobody sent you.

You sent yourself.

And please don't start calculating what you could have bought with that money.

The money is gone.

Let it rest.

9. Be picky, what you want is out there.

This applies to almost everything.

Friends, jobs, relationships.

Even that thing you are about to settle for because you are tired of searching.

You don't have to take the first option just because it is available.

If you don't like it, you don't like it.

If it doesn't feel right, leave it.

And if somebody says you're being too picky, smile. They are not the ones that will live with the consequences😂.

Sometimes you just need to wait, what you actually want is out there.

Probably somewhere.

Maybe looking for you too.

10. Never let a son of Adam convince you that inconsistency is a love language.

If he disappears for three days and comes back with “hey stranger”, please don't start smiling at your phone.

Stranger ke?

You were the one that disappeared😭😂.

Don't start translating mixed signals into deep emotions.

“He's probably busy.”

“He doesn't really like texting.”

“He's just not good with communication.”

My friend, rest!

If somebody wants to talk to you, they will talk to you.

If somebody wants to see you, they will make plans.

And if somebody is giving you hot-and-cold behaviour, please don't start wearing a sweater and standing in the sun trying to understand it, you are not a weather station.

Consistency is not too much to ask and if you have to keep convincing yourself that the inconsistency means something, it probably doesn't.

Maybe surviving life isn't about having everything figured out.

Maybe it's just about knowing when to save your money, when to keep quiet, when to eat first, when to stop over-explaining yourself...

…and when to look at the situation in front of you and say,

“God abeg.”

Now, where is my ‘thank you’?🤨

Newlyweds, five months married. The wife sat down first then her husband sat beside her.

They looked normal… for about twelve seconds.

“So,” I said, smiling, “what brings you both here?”

The wife pointed at her husband.

“He doesn't respect me.”

The husband immediately turned to her.

“Ah-ah! You have started.”

I looked at him.

“You disagree?”

“Of course I disagree. This woman doesn't know what respect means.”

She sat up.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

I put my pen down.

Okay.

This was going to be interesting.

I asked the wife to explain.

“He came home yesterday and found me watching a movie then he asked me to pause it because he wanted to tell me something.”

Her husband nodded.

“Yes. And she told me, ‘Wait, I'm watching something.’”

“So?”

“So I waited.”

I looked at him.

“That doesn't sound too bad.”

He pointed at her.

“I waited for thirty minutes.”

She immediately shouted,

“Because it was the last thirty minutes!”

“And I was saying something important!”

“You could have said it while I was watching.”

“You wanted me to compete with Netflix?”

I closed my eyes for a second.

“Okay, let's calm down.”

She turned to me.

“Then he now said, ‘You always do this.’”

Her husband laughed.

“Because you always do it!”

“I do what?”

“You behave like everything is more important than what I'm saying.”

She stared at him.

“And you behave like every small thing is an emergency.”

“Because when I talk, I expect my wife to listen!”

“And when I'm watching something, I expect my husband to have sense!”

I looked at my watch.

We had been here for seven minutes.

I was tired.

I asked them both to take a breath.

Then I asked a simple question.

“When you argue at home, what usually happens?”

They answered at the same time.

“He—”

“She—”

I raised my hand.

“No, one person pls.”

The wife folded her arms.

“He never wants to let things go.”

The husband immediately said,

“She never wants to admit she's wrong.”

“Because I'm usually not wrong!”

He laughed.

“See?”

“See what?”

“This is exactly what I'm talking about.”

She turned to me.

“Can you imagine?”

I looked at both of them.

I could, very clearly.

I asked them to tell me what they actually wanted from each other.

The wife went quiet.

Then she said,

“I want him to listen to me without trying to win every argument.”

The husband looked at her.

“I want her to stop treating every disagreement like a battle.”

That got them both quiet because somewhere beneath all the shouting, they had actually said the same thing.

They didn't want to keep fighting, they just didn't know how to disagree without turning it into a competition.

I explained that being married doesn't mean you will suddenly stop getting on each other's nerves.

You will disagree, you will misunderstand each other. Sometimes, one of you will be wrong and sometimes, both of you will be wrong.

But if every disagreement becomes a fight to determine who is smarter, louder or more correct, eventually you stop trying to understand each other.

You start trying to win.

They both nodded.

I thought, Finally. Progress.

Then the husband said,

“So does this mean she should apologise first?”

The wife looked at him.

“Ah!”

I leaned back in my chair.

Here we go again.

“That's not what I said.”

“But she started it.”

“No, you started it!”

“I did not!”

“You did!”

They both stood up.

I stared at them.

“Where are you going?”

The husband picked up his phone.

“Home.”

His wife grabbed her bag.

“I'm going to my mother's house.”

“You're going to your mother's house because of Netflix?”

“I'm going because of you!”

“Fine!”

“Fine!”

They walked out still arguing.

I sat there for a few seconds.

Then I heard the husband outside say,

“Wait for me.”

And she replied,

“I'm not waiting for you.”

He laughed.

“You'll wait.”

“Watch me.”

I couldn't help laughing.

Because apparently, after five months of marriage, they had already mastered the art of being angry with each other while still walking out together.

Maybe that was their lesson, not every disagreement needs a winner.

Sometimes, you just need to remember that the person you're arguing with is still the person you're building a life with, even when they're annoying.

Especially when they're annoying.

I closed my notebook.

Day one ✅.

I had learned something too.

Never say, “Let's calm down,” to two hot-headed newlyweds😂

They will somehow become hotter.

“Hi.”

He looked at me, “Hi.”

“I've actually wanted to talk to you.”

“Oh? Why?”

I smiled. “I mean… have you looked at yourself recently? You’re kind of hard not to notice.”

He laughed.

Okay smooth, very smooth😂.

We started talking and somehow the conversation wasn't awkward, he was actually really nice.

At some point, he asked, “So, what made you come over?”

I shrugged. “Maybe I just wanted to know if the face came with a nice personality.”

He laughed again.

At this point, I was feeling myself.

I asked for his number, he gave it to me.

And just like that, I had made the first move. I walked away smiling like a girl who had just secured her future husband.

Except…

I didn't actually do any of this😭😂

I was lying on my bed, imagining what would happen if I made the first move😂.

But, now I'm curious…

Would you toast a guy if you really liked him?👀😂

My day started with my alarm refusing to stop ringing, me nearly falling out of bed because I was trying to reach my phone without opening my eyes, and then discovering that I had exactly thirty-five minutes to get ready for work

I considered calling in sick.

I wasn't sick.

But honestly, was being tired of life not a valid medical condition? Apparently not. So I got ready and left the house.

By 10 a.m, I had already regretted every decision that had brought me to that office.

My boss had called me into her office because of something that wasn't even my fault. Then she had spent fifteen minutes explaining the importance of "taking ownership," which is corporate language for please accept blame for this nonsense.

I smiled and nodded.

I said, "Noted."

Inside my head, I was saying something else.

By lunchtime, I was tired, hungry and generally irritated with everybody. So I did what I always do when I have had a terrible day.

I went to my favourite restaurant.

Don't ask me why food fixes my mood, It just does. Give me good jollof rice and a cold drink and suddenly I can forgive people who don't deserve forgiveness.

I had barely entered when I saw that my usual table was occupied.

Of course.

I stood there for a few seconds, looking around like the table was going to magically become free if I stared hard enough.

It didn't.

So I joined the small queue.

That's where I met him.

The first thing I noticed was the glasses not because I have a thing for men with glasses.

Okay, maybe a little.

But these ones suited him annoyingly well. He was standing in front of me, looking at the menu like he had all the time in the world.

I was hungry,as in,very hungry.

And this man was taking his sweet time.

I waited.

He didn't move.

I waited a little longer.

Still nothing.

Eventually, I cleared my throat.

He looked back.

"Excuse me" I said.

He stepped aside slightly. I thought that was the end of it. It wasn't.

A few seconds later, he looked at me and said, "Are you planning to order today or are you just going to stand there?"

I actually stared at him.

"Excuse me?"

He looked completely unbothered.

"I'm asking because you've been standing there for a while"

I looked behind me.

There were two people.

Two!

Not a crowd.

"You're the one who was standing there for five business days" I said.

He raised an eyebrow.

"Five business days?"

"Yes."

"It was about two minutes."

"Same thing."

He almost smiled.

Almost.

Then he turned back to the counter. I looked at him one more time.

Rude.

Very rude.

Unfortunately, he was also very handsome. Which was irritating because now I couldn't even insult him properly in my head without acknowledging the fact that God had clearly put effort into his face.

I got my food and went to sit down.

That was it.

At least, I thought it was.

I ate my food, went back to work, survived the rest of the day and went home. I didn't think about him again.

Well.

Maybe once🤷

Or twice🥲

But that was only because I was annoyed.

Weeks later, my mother called me while I was at work.

"Are you free on Saturday?"

I immediately became suspicious.

"What do you want?"

"Why are you asking me what I want?"

"Because you don't call me during work hours to ask if I'm free on Saturday for nothing."

There was a pause.

Then she said, very casually "Your father and I want you to meet someone."

I stopped typing.

"Someone who?"

"A family."

"What family?"

"Don't worry. You'll meet them on Saturday."

"Mummy."

"Don't start."

"I haven't even started."

"You will."

She hung up.

I stared at my phone.

There are some conversations with your mother where you already know you're going to lose before you've even opened your mouth. This was one of them.

Saturday came.

And somehow, I found myself sitting in our living room while my parents welcomed another family into the house.

I looked around. Everybody seemed strangely excited, I was the only person who looked like I had been kidnapped.

My mother kept giving me that look.

The one that said please behave yourself.

I wasn't planning to misbehave.

I just wanted to know why nobody had thought to tell me why a whole family was sitting in our living room.

Then I heard my father say,

"Femi should be here soon."

Femi??

I don't know why, but that name immediately annoyed me. Maybe because my mind had already created a picture of the kind of man called Femi.

I was still thinking about it when I heard footsteps coming down the hallway.

Then he walked in.

Glasses ,same face, same irritating calm expression.

I stared at him.

He stared at me.

For a second, neither of us said anything.

Then his eyes widened slightly.

"You're the girl from the restaurant."

I closed my eyes.

Oh, for fuck's sake.

Naturally? Very interesting, because I’ve never heard anyone say, “Women are naturally monogamous.” It’s just automatically understood that a woman should want one man,while a man wanting several women can apparently be explained by nature. The man has needs,variety and gets bored. This same “man” cannot possibly be expected to love only one woman for the rest of his life because apparently his biology has already submitted its resignation letter to monogamy.

But imagine a woman saying the same thing. Imagine me for instance,coming home one evening and casually announcing that I’ve decided that I want three husbands. The silence will be so loud that a single pin drop will echo through the whole room. Within five minutes,we’re already discussing the decline of society.

Nobody is asking if I am naturally polygamous or even saying, “Let the girl express herself”. Instead, somebody is asking what exactly three men will be doing in one house.

And honestly? That’s a very good question, because now that I think about it, three husbands under one roof sounds like the recipe for disaster and that's the kind of soup I would enjoy eating 😂.

One is complaining that the other finished four meat in a go,another is asking why the electricity bill hasn’t been paid, while the third is in his room doing God knows what and I’m somewhere in the middle wondering why I thought this was a good idea.

But that’s not even the point😂.

The point is that we’ve somehow created a world where a man’s desire for multiple partners can be explained as nature while a woman’s desire for the same thing is treated as rebellion. If a man has two wives,people might call it tradition, if it's three wives,they will simply say he is embracing his culture. But if a woman has three husbands, suddenly everybody remembers the dictionary definition of the word faithfulness and I find that fascinating because, if the argument is that men are simply “built that way”, then what happens when a woman says she is also built that way? Do we suddenly stop believing in biology, or was “men are naturally polygamous” just a very convenient sentence that allowed men to do what they wanted without having to call it “selfish”?

I’m not saying I want 3 husbands,please. I like my peace. I’m more interested in the double standard.

If polygamy is acceptable because men are naturally polygamous, why does the conversation become completely different when a woman wants the exact same arrangement?

Maybe the problem was never polygamy. Maybe the problem is that we’ve always been more comfortable giving men freedom we expect women to apologise for wanting.

Anyway, if I ever actually announce that I want 3 husbands, please don’t encourage me. I clearly need help. But until then,I’ll remain peacefully polygamous in theory.

“In theory”.

Grab a seat, we’re winging it.