5 lessons I learned from dating a Narcissist.

You may think you are in love until it is too late.

Sooooooooo I dated a narcissist.

I never knew the true definition of a narcissist until a few years later. I wish I knew this earlier, it would have saved me a lot of tears. Narcissists appear normal, just like you and I. A charming personality, oozing with perfection, and then the road becomes dark and painful.

It started with love bombing. He said all sorts of sweet things to pull me in. I fell head over heels in love with him. He acted like a true gentleman, owned and dined me. He bought me roses. It was the typical thing you would expect from someone when you are in a relationship. I felt like I had found the one. He wanted to get married, have kids, build a life. He said the right words tugged on the strings of my heart the way he felt would pull me in. Looking back, I realized I meant nothing. I was discarded like used toilet paper. I was not even sure he was the same person.

He was insecure. It was the first thing I noticed about him. He always needed validation from me. Initially, I thought seeking validation was just to be on the same page with me when it came to making decisions. It was because he didn’t feel like he could make good decisions. He hid behind the shadow of my wisdom. He also became clingy. He always wanted to control who I spent time with and talked to. He would threaten to stop talking to me if I did not adhere to his requests. I found it doubly odd. He was the kind that could end long-term friendships because of his needs. He was selfish.

The discard stage hurt. We had no quarrels or anything. He stopped talking to me. In the attempt to find out why, he said there was nothing wrong, and he wanted to move on.

It was funny that after the first few days of breaking up, he checked on me to see how I was doing. I genuinely thought he felt remorse, but it was not that. He wanted to absolve himself of guilt by acting like he cared, and also making sure I was not angry. We remained friends, but I learned valid lessons along the way.

  1. He was an extremely fragile person. He exuded so much confidence, but behind the confidence was a fragile man whose ego was easily bruised, and it only took one slight to shatter him. He also had a knack for keeping grudges.
  2. He also showed an exaggerated self importance. He was extremely arrogant. He claimed to have high standards, but they only existed in words and not actions. I also realized he had no standards when it came to choosing women. He preyed on the emotions of single women looking to settle down. He also had a lot of sexual escapades and loved dating women who were less likely to look for commitment.
  3. I noticed he had no long-term friends. He had no one he was accountable to for his behavior. This is a red flag, because he never admitted to fault and would always find a way to blame me.
  4. He was always right. He was never wrong about anything. Challenging him on anything was never a good idea.
  5. Gas lighting was something I experienced, and I knew I was done. I was made to feel that anything in the relationship that went wrong was always my fault. I was walking on eggshells literally. We could go from having a cheerful and happy conversation to a full blown argument. I found myself apologizing for things I didn’t do or say just to keep the peace. In this way, I am slowly losing myself.

When you find yourself in a toxic relationship like this, it is not easy to walk away, but please do. It is for your sanity. Physical abuse is bad. Emotional abuse is deadly.

Walk away because you are worth more, you have family and friends that love you. There are beautiful people who want to come into your life and bring out the best in you. Do not deprive yourself of that opportunity by being with a narcissist.

In the long run, it takes a while to dissociate from this bond. Get the support of your friends and family, and definitely a therapist.


My body trembled whenever Osas approached me.
I want to say it trembled in a good way or tremble is not the right word to use in this case. It was like a craving that will never go away. Osas was an addiction for a long time. Sometimes I felt like I needed therapy to get over him. I felt pity for any woman who came across him because he was like a drug. An overdose of Osas still won’t kill, that was how toxic he was, it was the craving for more of him that was dangerous.
I stood still.
“I know you don’t bite,” I responded slightly embarrassed because he caught me taking a step or two back. The couple standing beside me walked into the elevator. A few more people walked into the elevator and the doors closed. Osas and I were left standing in front of the elevator doors.
“You look great,” He said as he admired me from head to toe. I knew it. I killed my look today. The saying “dress like you are going to run into your enemy”, it works.
“Thanks,” I responded with a sense of urgency. I was meeting up someone and ended up running into someone else. He didn’t respond I tried my best to avoid his eyes. I could feel his eyes on my chest. It was like he was going back and forth between my face and my chest.
I stared at the elevator doors praying that the elevator will come back down and open up so I could walk away from Osas. A young woman with two children stepped in front of the elevator. She made eye contact with me and smiled, I smiled back uncomfortably. She held the hands of both children firmly. The boy of maybe about four years was held with her right hand, and a little girl of about two years was firmly held with her left hand.

A part of me prayed that she would get the cue that I was uncomfortable and try to engage me in a conversation, but I was with someone that was not possible. I prayed my phone would ring so I could excuse myself.
“Listen don’t be like that please,” He said as he looked pleadingly into my eyes.

This was the part of the conversation I didn’t want to have.

Not in my beautiful red dress standing in my white pumps, not here not now.
The doors to the elevator opened with the ding sound. The lady and her two small children headed towards the elevator.
“Excuse me,” I said to him “I have somewhere to be” I told him as I walked towards the elevator.

He grabbed my arm, I felt the familiar tingle, the type that I felt when he would hold my hand romantically, but this time it wasn’t romantic. It was just the fact that he touched me. I responded to every touch even though it wasn’t erotic.

Was something actually really wrong with me?

Did I need total cleansing from anything that had to do with him at all?

I thought I had healed from him having any form of effect on me, but I guess it wasn’t so.
“Please stop,” I said to him. “I have a meeting.”
“Can we have a drink this weekend?” He suggested.
He must have some nerve. I thought.
How did he think it’s okay for him to ask me to go out to have a drink with him? before today I hadn’t seen him almost eighteen months.
“No” I responded as I walked towards the elevator. The doors were pulling in close. He still held my hand firmly, I could not understand why. The lady in the elevator put her hands through the doors to prevent them from closing. She had impatient look on her face. I actually thought it was kind of nice for her to wait for me. This little meeting with Osas was going to take a little longer than I expected so I motioned for her to let the doors close and she can go up without me.
“Osas, What do you want from me? “ I asked the question. It didn’t sound so sincere even from me asking it, The question was meant for me. What did I want from him? Why was I still entertaining him? I could have just walked away and acted like we never knew each other or met, but instead I stood and engaged in the conversation with him and now I was asking him what he wanted from me. how hypocritical.
“I just want to spend time with you, we haven’t communicated in a while so I guess it’s just a good way to catch up that’s all.” he said so casually.

He had a whole lot of nerve.

“What makes you think I want to spend time with you?” I asked.

I was getting irritated by the fact that he felt he could waltz back into my life and everything would be cool.

“You always enjoy my company,’ he responded confidently with a smirk.

I gave him the side eye.

He laughed.

I caught myself smiling.

“Listen I know I have not been a good sport and things panned out badly between us, but maybe we can sit and talk.”

Was he trying to convince me?

“No” I said and took my hand off his grip. A tall, man was standing three feet from me waiting for the elevator. The elevator door opened and I rushed into it without looking back. I held my purse and closed my eyes. I heard foot movements of people coming into the elevator. I shut my eyes closed real tight, I didn’t want to see Osas. I heard the doors close and slowly opened my eyes after realizing I had not pressed the button to the floor I was going to.

Osas was standing right beside me.


“If anyone can show why this couple cannot lawfully be joined together in matrimony, let them speak now or forever hold their peace.”

The wedding date was January 1 at 3 pm.

You found out about the wedding from your roommate of three years, Pamela.

She was a guest, and you were going to be her plus one. She asked you to go with her, because she had no one else to go with, and she wanted to enjoy the experience in the company of anyone who would accompany her, so she asked you. She also asked you because you were Nigerian, and she knew Nigerians threw elaborate weddings.

You found the link to the wedding site on the invitation card and did a little snooping. You had gone on the wedding website to see the wedding party and information about the wedding. The love story was simple. They met through mutual friends at a game night. They were on the same team and became attracted to each other. She gave him a hard time and finally obliged after three months. They dated for eighteen months. He popped the question while they were in the Maldives for his mom’s birthday. She said ‘Yes”.You rolled your eyes.

You went through the pictures on the site. The wedding shoot was elaborate, they both had white outfits on. The theme was meant to be angelic, or so you thought. She wore a long, white dress and a golden crown on her head. He had on a white kaftan with gold embroidery. They looked great together. In the next set of pictures, she had a red dress on and was playing the piano. He stood by the piano in a black suit. In the last pre wedding photo, she was wearing a navy blue dress, he was wearing a navy blue shirt and black slacks. He was photographed kissing her forehead. You sucked teeth.

You clicked to see the bridal party. The bride’s sister was the maid of honor. You read the bio of the rest of her posse. The groomsmen were handsome, they were all doctors, members of the Sweet Boys Association (handsome, well dressed and bearded men). You sucked teeth.

You decided to plan your entire outfit for the wedding. You decided to look your best, beyond beautiful. There were many eligible bachelors, and you had to snatch one of them for good. You were tired of going to events and being asked where your man was. If Dickson hadn’t been an idiot, you would be married to him. Instead, he left you for the tall, slim and elegant Bola.

The following day, you decided to visit Maryanne, a fashion designer who made trendy clothes for wealthy people. Her shop was on Broad Street, in the middle of a busy downtown area. She had two clients ahead of you who had come to get fired. You smiled and watched them try on their beautiful outfits. After they left, you told Maryanne the reason for your visit. You wanted her to make you a nice outfit on a budget. You pulled out your phone and showed her the picture of a beautiful woman in the outfit you wanted.

“It will cost you though, and this is short notice.” Maryanne said as she eyed you playfully. You and Maryanne attended the same high school. She always had a knack for fashion. You were glad she made a full time hustle out of it.

“I understand, please make me the center of attention,” you told her.

You ended up at the shoe store and picked out a nice pair of metallic stiletto heels. The sales associate talked you into buying. You decided it was a great idea, even though you wanted to stick to your budget.

Bridget, your hairstylist, was stunned when you showed her a picture of the Toni Braxton hair cut you had decided to rock for the wedding. It took her three years to grow your hair into a long, healthy mane. She was reluctant. You insisted. She countered by asking if your outfit had a head wrap. You realized you had not asked to have one made, but you had one that would match your fabric. She agreed to help you tie the head wrap and make you look regal.

On the drive home, you thought about Dickson and how things had ended between you both. Tears began to stream down your cheeks. After dating for four years, it became ashes. His mother didn’t like you. It was a big problem. She had no reason for not liking you, except that you were not in the same social status. Your parents were middle class civil servants. You went to public school like other children you knew. You had good grades to take you to the university. You graduated and found a good job. It was then her son came into your life. He turned your world upside down. Spoiled you with gifts and expensive trips. The day he took you to see his parents, his mom snubbed you, and his dad found himself in an awkward situation of trying to save face. You quarreled with Dickson that night. You told him your relationship won’t work. He begged you and said nothing would come between you, not even his family. The tone of his voice and his pleading eyes, which seemed glassy due to forming tears, convinced you that he was telling the truth.

A few weeks later, you ran into his father while shopping at the Galleria. He told you he would pay for your items. Reluctantly, you agreed, because there was a Ted Baker shoe you had your eyes on. You picked the shoe and agreed to his proposal. He decided to take you to lunch. Lunch was at a fancy upscale restaurant. He asked a lot of questions while you ate. He told you about himself and his children. He asked you not to be angry with his wife. He was nice.

Two weeks later, you found out you were pregnant. You had been feeling dizzy at work and nauseous in the morning. You didn’t add things up until the smell of the coffee your coworker gave you sent you running to the bathroom to empty your guts. You decided to take a pregnancy test, and your fears were confirmed. Dickson was away on a work trip. You decided to wait till he came back to tell him. You confided in Sandra, your cousin.

When Dickson got back, you told him over a candlelit dinner in your dining room. He was not happy. He told you the baby was born out of wedlock, and his family would not approve of it. You were shocked, because he was the same person who would not use protection. You had taken your IUD out because your cousin told you it would mess with you by delaying your conception time when it was time to start a family. He told you to get rid of the pregnancy. You were shocked, because you thought after dating for so long, it would bring you closer. You decide to confide in his father. Maybe it would help. You had dinner with him at his private guest house. You told his father everything, hoping to get advice. His father shows empathy and tells you he would try his best to convince him. Your heart is happy. Things would work out.

Dickson didn’t change, instead he became distant. The calls became less frequent. The text message responses became delayed. He finally blocked your number and deleted you from his social media.Frazzled, you reached out to his father. He invited you to the guest house to see him. You sat on the white sofa crying your eyes out. He told you everything would be alright. He offered you a glass of lemonade and told you to relax.

You woke up in your bed in the middle of the night when a sharp pain hit your abdomen. The pain was excruciating, you could not bear it. You got up and realized there was a pool of blood in the middle of the bed, and it was running down your legs. You panicked and called your cousin Sandra. She was the closest relative who lived in a twenty mile radius. Sandra showed up thirty minutes later and took you to the hospital.

Three hours later, you laid in the hospital bed with tears running down your face, and Sanrda holding your hand, telling you everything would be fine. You lost the baby. The doctor said you ingested a substance that induced you. You stared at him in disbelief. Your mind ran back to the events of the day and realized you had a drink at the guesthouse. It was the lemonade. Who would believe your story?

There was damage to your womb, and you had to get a hysterectomy. It was the most painful moment in your life, after losing both your parents to a motor accident a few years ago. Uncle Pete, Sandra’s father, became your parent. Your dreams of becoming a biological mother were dashed. It hurt more that Dickson had moved on quickly with another woman. You saw it using Sandra’s Instagram page. It hurt.

Weddings and happy couples made you cringe over the years. You were bitter. You went to therapy. After a year, you eased back into your old self, but it was never the same. When Pamela asked you to be her guest, you almost hesitated, but changed your mind. You had not been to a wedding in three years. You decided to look your best, maybe your knight in a shining armor would be there. You were optimistic.

On January 1st, you told Pamela that you would ride separately, because you had to be at a lunch before the wedding. She agreed. You got to the church at 3.15 pm, not to cause a stir. You sat in the back row. The church was filled with family members and well wishers. The service was just starting, the bride stood in front of her groom, and the pastor began the service. They exchanged their vows.

The priest asked

“If anyone can show why this couple cannot lawfully be joined together in matrimony, let them speak now or forever hold their peace.”

There was silence.

You raised your hand and brought your hand gun.

There was no way Dickson would marry Bola.


“Wakey wakey”

I said as I strolled into our bedroom.

Giselle lay in bed, looking ever so beautiful even as she slept. Her beautiful tresses were spread across the pillow. She was such a beautiful view to wake up to every morning. Without make up, she looked gorgeous.

It was time to get dressed. We had a long day ahead of us. Our wedding was coming up in a few days. One hundred guests had seats at the beautiful wedding to celebrate our union.

The past few months were hectic. It was one drama or the other. It came from people who were close to us.




Giselle finally found love, and all hell was let loose. She had a child with the man she found love with, and it became a problem. We had spent weeks praying together and going to therapy. The therapy sessions were brutal. We had to be vulnerable with our therapist, who did a great job stripping us off the walls we had built around ourselves.

At a point, I felt she was going through postpartum depression. She had different moods every day. Some days she would not want to hold the beautiful child we made together, Henrietta.

She was the happiest six month old human I had ever met. She had her mom’s beautiful eyes and smile. How could she look at the beautiful baby and not want to hold her? After a while, she was convinced she was not a good mother, and maybe someone else deserved to be Henrietta’s mom. It broke me.

I, on the other hand, had my issues with Stephanie, who was Giselle’s cousin. We were engaged to be married, but we broke up. I met Giselle and things got heated up and then complicated. Stephanie told everyone that Giselle snatched me from her. She said all sorts of nonsense about me. I tried to talk to her, but she refused. Giselle didn’t care. It put me in an uncomfortable position. Giselle was ready to ride and die for me. Family gatherings became like funerals for me. I felt like a Judas who had put two cousins asunder. If Giselle wasn’t pregnant with my child, maybe Stephanie would not have been so angry. I got used to the mean mugging, the snide comments, and the cold treatment from some family members. Stephanie’s parents were indifferent.

I stared at her as she slept. I didn’t want us to be late for our appointment. We had an hour drive, and we had to be there by noon. We also had to meet with the marriage counselor at 3pm, and dinner with her parents by 5pm. The nanny was downstairs. She watched Henrietta everyday from 9am till 5pm. I asked her to stay while we went for dinner with Giselle’s parents, and promised her overtime money. She was more than happy to oblige.

“Giselle wake up.” I called out as I walked into the closet. We had a huge walk-in closet in our bedroom. Her clothes occupied more than half of the closet.

I picked out a white shirt, black slacks, and my favorite Ferragamo belt. My shoe rack was by the door. I would wear my favorite ones. I could not understand why Giselle was still asleep. She always took her time to do everything. She had her morning routine, and she had slept through her alarm. She didn’t wake up to read her Bible in the closet, she didn’t go running three miles. She was not listening to her podcast. She must have been exhausted from running around yesterday.

“Babe,” I called out as I walked towards the bed to wake her up. She was still.

I leaned in to kiss her forehead. Normally she would stir a bit, open her eyes and smile at me. It didn’t happen. She was not breathing.

“Giselle” I called out and shook her.

She didn’t move. I felt for a pulse. There was none.

Giselle was…… dead.

Almost doesn’t count

But everybody knows, almost doesn’t count. ~ Brandy 

Brandy was right a decade ago, and she is still right today.

If they have one leg in and one leg out, it means nothing.

If they haven’t made up their mind about you, it still means nothing.

If they were thinking about you and didn’t act on the thought, it means nothing.

From today and onward, no more “almost”. Almost there, almost happy, almost crying, almost doing, almost tripping, almost buying. 

 No more!

Being intentional about everything we do is important.

Being intentional in the lives of the people we love is priceless.

When we have an “almost” attitude to a person or to life itself, it holds no value. Imagine what buying a gift someone would do to a person, it would make them happy, what if you almost bought the gift. It means nothing. It doesn’t count.

I have heard people say “It’s the thought that counts”. Fair enough. It is the action that counts. Moving forward, no more potentials. No more , what could be?It is either ‘it is’ or ‘it isn’t”.It is great to know that you are worthy of all the love you choose to give a person or thing.  You are worthy of the respect you choose to give a person or a thing. You would not want to be half assed about how you show love and appreciation to another person or a thing. If you would not be half assed about how you treat people, then do not accept half assed love or respect. Almost doesn’t count. It either is or it isn’t. 

A person that values you will put effort  to make sure you feel valued, wanted and loved. It is very important to understand that as much as we want to feel loved and cherished, also make sure you are giving the same energy to the right person/people that we allow into our lives. Vet the people you let in, so you don’t get disappointed when they don’t turn out to to be how you envisioned them. No “almost ” energy.  

So in order to move forward and reset, take an inventory of what you don’t need, what is not provided and what won’t matter in the long run and get rid of them.

Is there someone in your life that you are giving the “almost” energy to and deserves to be treated better? You are in charge of your life, you can upgrade , downgrade and remove where you deem fit. It either is or it isn’t. 

Just know that no matter what

 Almost doesn’t count.

Confessions of a Cheating Wife (3)

How do you look into the eyes of someone you have betrayed?

I walked slowly towards Yemi. I had the bed sheet draped around my body. He didn’t turn to acknowledge my presence but I was sure he knew I was behind him.

“Why our bed?” he said facing the window.

I could not say anything.

I had to ask myself that question. Why did I decide to defile our marital bed?

I wanted to speak, but the words could not come out of my mouth clearly. Yemi was patient and kind. How could I blow that up?

Osas was the only reason I would blow my marriage up with Yemi.

Osas was nothing like Yemi. He was just good for sex. Today, I got caught and from then on things would never go back to being the same.

“I don’t know what I was thinking, there is clearly no excuse for what happened in there.” I responded. I had to own up to this, it wasn’t fair for him to suffer emotionally for my infidelity. He had given me basically everything including the assurance for the growth of a healthy relationship.

He didn’t turn to look at me. He stared out of the window. It hurt to know that someone who could so easily look me in the eye avoided mine.

What was he thinking?

  • *************************************************

Running into Osas after a few years of no contact was a curse. Osas was my guilty pleasure but nothing good was going to come out of our encounters. The last time we saw each other, it ended on a bad note. I decided to accept my loss and move on.

He had cheated again for the umpteenth time and did not want to take responsibility or even apologize. It was my cue to leave. Any woman with common sense would leave such a situation the first time such a thing happened. I guess my common sense was lacking.

I was at Glass House, a tall building with over a hundred floors. I was meeting up a colleague for dinner. I walked up towards the elevator doors. There were three people standing ahead of me, a young lady who had her attention on her cell phone scree. The other two were a couple, the woman was pregnant, the man stood beside her and held her close, rubbing her back gently.

I craved for this type of love from a man for a long time until i met Yemi. Yemi was the best thing that had ever happened to me in such a long time. We waited for the elevator to come down, we knew it would take a while as there were other floors and other people on those floors would want to get. There were three other elevator doors. A few minute later, one of the doors opened up, a woman in yellow shorts, a tank top with a Jane Fonda look walked out of the elevator, the next person to come out was a familiar face.


I stopped dead in my tracks. If there was ever a day to look so good, it was today. I had on a red dress, white pumps from Nine West. My make up was well done. I just felt the need to look good, and I pulled it off effortlessly. I pulled my long hair up into a high bun, the hair Osas loved pulling during sex. He looked good. His beard was well groomed, his barber had given him a good hair cut. He had on brown pants and a white long sleeved shirt. His eyes were on me.

“Hey.” he said.

I nodded in response. He walked towards me, I could smell his cologne. The familiar scent that memories..

“Hi” I responded taking a step back. I didn’t want him hugging me. He noticed what I had done.

“I am not going to bite you, why are you taking a step back?” he asked as he walked closer. I was losing my defenses. My body began to tremble, it seemed all so familiar.

Unforgiveness- the only prison in which you have the key to set yourself free.

As the year comes to a close, it is a good thing to look back and reflect on how the year has gone.  

Forgiveness is one thing we need to reflect on.  There has been offense from friends or family members and you tell yourself you have forgiven them. 

Here are some scenarios 

  1. When you think about what happened, you are still angry. I sometimes rehearse how I could have responded to a situation, because I am still dwelling on the issue in my head and heart. I know there and then that I have not truly forgiven. 
  1. You find yourself discussing the incident of almost ten years ago as if it happened today. I have heard a lot of people talk and hold on to how their parents treated them as kids. Their parents have most likely forgotten or not even known they offended their child(ren). Instead, the child grows up harboring thoughts of resentment and unforgiveness.  
  1. When you find yourself refusing to be friends with anyone who loves them, you have not truly forgiven. I call it witchcraft campaign. It is when you decide to create enmity because you and a certain person are not in good terms. Imagine going to an event and you decide to avoid certain people because you have a clash with someone they love dearly. You will be the uncomfortable one in the room.  
  1. When the attempts to make things right is met with your rejection, you have not truly forgiven. It is because you have maybe justified anger, it may be pride or betrayal. Maybe you need more time to process the conflict. Any or more of these reasons means that you have not forgiven. 

Check your heart.  

Have you truly forgiven that person? 

Do you know what it means to forgive a person. 

If you can forgive, you are a powerful person.  

Revenge is for the weak-minded person. 

Forgiveness means you are willing to move forward. It unties the cords that tie you to the offense that was committed against you. It sets you free. Imagine being bound with huge ropes to a container. You can’t move and it is uncomfortable. It is what unforgiveness feels like. You are the one suffering. The person who tied you up is not suffering. Forgiveness is for you. It is not for the other person.  

To forgive is to set a prisoner free and discover that the prisoner was you. ~ Lewis B Smedes 

We always say other people are toxic, we may be the toxic one. When you hold on to unforgiveness, it’s like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die. Isn’t that toxic thinking? 

It is exhausting carrying baggage from your past into your future. Your journey does not need the baggage of unforgiveness to where you are going. Leave it at the bus stop of forgiveness. 

Forgiveness is a choice you make every day. It is not a onetime event. The reason why is that the offense will come back to your mind again, you have the choice to let go or hold on.  It is a commitment. People process forgiveness differently. For some it is sooner than for others.  

A good way to look at it is putting yourself as the offender asking for forgiveness. It hurts when you ask for forgiveness and it is met with rejection. There is so much beauty in life every day to look forward to. 

When you hold on to the pain from the past, you actually hinder yourself from seeing beauty in a new day and new situations. You hold yourself at ransom that only you can pay.  You can’t free yourself if you don’t pay the ransom. Forgiveness is the ransom. 

If you want to love. Forgiveness will always be a constant. If you can’t forgive, you can’t love. While forgiving other people, also know that you have to forgive yourself too. 

Forgive yourself for mistakes you made out of ignorance. 

Forgive yourself for hurting other people. 

Forgive yourself for holding onto weights and things you should have released a long time ago. 

In this might, you need to learn to forgive, not because the other person deserves happiness, but because you deserve peace. 

Confessions of a Cheating Wife (2)

Before I decided to throw my marriage into the boondocks, everything was going well.

I lacked nothing.

I did not have to work, it was an option, not a necessity.

I had pocket money.

I went on lavish vacations or rather baecations.

The luxury goods in my closet have valued the price of a full boutique.

I was happy, got regular sex, great foot rubs, and massages.

I could be described as one of the few women who found a husband on a platter of gold.

I guessed I was positioned in the right place and time to receive him. There was only one pending question in my head.

I took the question into my marriage.

Did I deserve him?

Yemi had the opportunity to marry someone else but instead, he chose me. Rita, was a Kalabari girl whom his parents had approved of for him to marry. I remember seeing her once at a wedding. She was fair-skinned with long, thick, natural type 4 C hair. She was a medical doctor who was practicing in a private hospital. Yemi was not interested in marrying Rita, much to his parent’s dismay. Rita moved on quickly. I thought there would be drama, or she would come fighting me for Yemi, but she never did.

Yemi and I got married three years later, it was a struggle, we had broken up and made up so many times. There was only one reason why I was doing that.


Yes, I had a serious weakness for Osas. We were childhood sweethearts, and I lost my virginity to him. We did not quite work out no matter how hard I tried to force things to work. We were always in turmoil, and it took so much in me not to kill him. I caught him sleeping with my room mate from school and I cut him loose.

I never got over what happened and every opportunity I could find to contact him, I applied. Osas could not be bothered with me. He had a great supply of women at his disposal. All he had to do was tell them he was an American citizen, which was true. He was born in the US. Those women flocked to him. Every time I saw him, it was one female or another. I never saw him with the same female twice.

It hurt.

A few months later I met Yemi.

Yemi told me, he was going to be my husband from the very first day he saw me, and he did not fail to keep the promise despite all odds. Rita was my greatest odd.


The look on Yemi’s face as he stood in the doorway broke my heart. I could explain anything else, but I could not explain having another man in our matrimonial bed. I pulled away from Osas as I grabbed the bedsheet and wrapped it around my body. Yemi walked away, I heard the footsteps as he walked briskly down the stairs. How could I have been so careless? He never came home at this time. It seemed Murphy’s Law was operating in my life today and it would probably get worse.

I looked at Osas and pointed at the clothes we careless the on the floor and motioned to him to put his clothes on and leave my house.

Osas looked shocked.

I slid off the bed with the bedsheet draped around my body and ran barefoot down the stairs. Yemi stood in the living room facing the window. Shame engulfed me. How could I even look him in the face

He says he is not ready to be in a relationship (1)

There are many men, and they come along like the next bus or train every four minutes. You just need to be at the bus stop on time and get on the right bus.

He said he was not ready to be in a relationship.

After going on so many dates.

After investing physically and emotionally.

What happened?

The keyword is access. Who do you give access to?

As a child, my mother was very wary of the people I allowed into my life as friends. I was not allowed to make friends of my own unless they were my classmates. The reason being I always looked for the best in people and took them at face value until I got hurt or taken advantage of.

I took this mindset into relationships. Making myself open prey until I heard words that broke my heart and made me cry for days on end. Words such as,

“I am not ready to be in a relationship.

“It’s not you, it’s me”

Are there any warning signs that come before getting disappointed?

Most likely there would have been but we females, we tend to overlook them. When a woman is in love, even the ambulance wailings won’t wake her up from la-la land until is too late.

If a man has to take advantage of you, you have to give him access. Females are visually stimulated just like men are and also stimulated by the things we hear.

“I love you”

“You are the best thing that ever happened to me”

Do those words sound familiar?

These things happen because some women are easy to fall prey. Some men tell us what we want to hear because they have spent time enough with us to figure out what would work and what wouldn’t. Some of us are predictable, we try to play hard to get, but once they crack the code, they are in.

All those walls you worked hard to build will come crashing down like a pack of cards.

A simple analogy is giving a spare key. Once you give someone you may not have fully trusted a spare key, they have a copy and can get access into your house and worse still they can make a duplicate.

The stage of going from friendship to becoming exclusive is in the power of what transcends during the process. It first starts with telling.

Not showing.


He tells you great stories, about himself, the things he does, the past relationships. The things that he feels look good on his dating resume. It is your job to investigate and make sure that what he is telling is truly who he is.

This takes time.

Character does not hide for too long.

So, I am sure you are asking, what is your role here?

Your role here is being the upper hand. You are the flower being sought, the one who has the access code. Hold on to it tight. Take your time to give access. To your heart, to go on a date, to have sex, to become exclusive.

There are many men, and they come along like the next bus or train, if you miss one, you can always catch another. Do not allow fear to pressure you into giving in. If he decides not to find you attractive because you are playing your cards right, let him move along to the next available chic. You are saving yourself from a lot of potential…..bullshit.

Apart from being in charge of the access code to your heart and body. You should also ask yourself if he is worthy of you. It is not about you being the perfect one for the man. Is he worthy of you? Your time? Your potential and who you truly are? Your future. It really counts for everything.

Most importantly go on dates to learn. Learn about the person. When you have a list of what you can take and what you won’t take, you will be able to filter out the garbage before it becomes garbage. Do not rush into anything because you won’t find anything out there anymore. You are not going on a date so he can like you, even though it is important to make a great first impression by putting your best foot forward. You also have to determine if he is worth your time.

If he is not worth your time, move to the next in line.


In life, there are certain people you need to say hello to and walk past, nothing else.

I grew up in the projects. My brothers and I shared one room in or tiny apartment. It was what my parents could afford. They worked hard to make sure we had food on the table. All my siblings and I had to do were go to school and do homework. I was the middle child and the only girl. My older brother Joe was a year older than me. My younger brother Michael was two years younger than I was. We were very close because we were all we had. Mom never let us go outside to play with the other kids. There were a lot of kids our age we could pay with and attended the same school as us. The rule in the house was firm. We could not go out to play with those kids.

Part of the reason why mom never let us go out to play was that she was a stripper at a club downtown. She was ashamed of what she did. She was raped at sixteen years old and got pregnant. She lost the baby at four months and was never the same again. The grief haunted her for a long time. She barely graduated high school, but she decided to fund the easier way out. She was very attractive, she was five feet and six inches tall. She had a pretty face, full breasts, a small waist, and nice legs. I was the spitting image of my mom, so I knew I would look exactly like her when I got older.

Dad worked for a man who owned a mechanic shop called Alfred. Dad was four years older than mom, they met after high school and started dating. He worked at a fast-food restaurant while mom braided hair all day and followed men at night. They broke up a few times because mom would not stop sleeping with different men. Dad didn’t want to lose mom, at twenty-three years old. He had nothing more than eight hundred dollars to his name, a jalopy that could take him to work and back, and a one-bedroom apartment. He bought a ring and proposed to my mom. She agreed to marry him, and they started their life together.

Mom had a best friend whom she worked with.


They were thick as thieves, always together. They talked about buying new clothes and make-up. They talked about small shows. They also talked about Larry, their boss, a short Italian man who owned the club. I had seen him once when he came to the house to check on why mom had not come to work in a week. He reeked of alcohol and had a Cuban cigar in his mouth. Mom had a high fever and could not work for a few days. Tatanisha updated mom on what went on at work. She was unmarried and had no kids. It was the life she chose for herself She came from a broken home and ended up in the adoption system. Her parents didn’t want her, the system didn’t want her. It was the men who wanted her, that was what she lived for. The only day she didn’t have the same work shift as mom was on Monday. She always came in the evening to check on us and make sure we were tucked in bed after dinner. She would hang out with dad in the living room watching television. She was always gone in the morning.

One night, she came over to the house like she usually did. She always showed up at six-thirty and made sure we had dinner. She checked our homework and had a glass of beer with dad. Dad sent us to bed at eight-thirty instead of nine. Reluctantly we went to our beds. I don’t know how long I had been asleep, I woke up to yelling and noise coming from my parent’s room.

My brothers were fast asleep. I got out from the bed I shared with my brothers and walked towards the door. I wanted to hear what was going on clearly. I heard mom’s voice. Mom was home? She was meant to be at work. Monday was crucial for her, her best clients showed up on Monday. What could have happened?