Once, I asked a friend how he did it. How he sat on a date with a girl and received a phone call from the other he was in a relationship with. As I asked, my eyes pierced through his, waiting for the answer. I wanted to know. How do people live without guilt?
My mother’s words return to me that evening. It collides with every poking accusation, every soft cajoling and every desperate attempt by friends in former lives to pull me into a perceived center stage of human experience. Get out more. Go partying. See a strip club. Create some spark for your stories. Lose your restraint.
Turning away from the gaze of people in our lives, from their love and scrutiny, is not always as protective as we imagine.
If you are tempted to give in to “loving from a distance” think again. How is this not a variation of cowardice? Of course, nothing is guaranteed. But if you are too scared to prod a thing, how do you know it won't show signs of life?
I want to love the people I love, and I want to grow old loving them. Yet, here I am, exploring my friendships as a travel between time, past and present; those who were, those who are, and hopefully, those who will be.
That Sunday afternoon, frozen in my mind- a small moment in history that cemented the idea of human relationships to be a real and complex thing
Now, let's say you are living happily with your stoic resolve to never complain, but one day, in the never-ceases-to-be-surprising mysteries of life, this your colleague breaks through your wall of silence and seeks your opinion on her perceived talents.
43 minutes! That's almost a full episode of Game of Thrones. Enough time to give yourself a pedicure, make jollof rice, iron your clothes for the week. 43 minutes! Why will someone even want that?
Love in my idealist perception is too much of a cementing, solidifying process to enter into simply on a whim, on the impulse of something as flimsy as emotions.
In the spirit of love and sharing and everything good, Chef Emeka, in conjunction with Thomas and Ray Whiskey Bar, is set to make...
You start be saying that you agree, that marriage can be overrated, that not every filtered picture depicts the perfect happiness many people like to portray. You also tell him, that humans can make a successful enterprise of life without the encumbrance of marriage. It is fine, and it is free, to be quite happily unmarried.
There I was, rallying my thoughts for the most appropriate response to an act that hurt me, nursing the grief, but only long enough to avenge it, to make some visible mark on the violator with my own words, something to show that I did not just take it, that it was not okay that she did what she did, that I would have the final say because silence was surrendering myself to a death of abuse.
Am I saying hide the truth? No. But truth can be communicated without becoming a theme song, without filtering into every conversation, forced and unwanted.
2015 was Seize the Bae…2016 was Commit or Commot…And now we’re at 2017… Marry Me or Die.
I read of Deborah sitting in the office of a prophet and judge, read about Jesus and see how he was so unabashedly anti women-shaming and pro-humanity. Thus I know that the problem is not with faith, but with people who manipulate tools for their personal prejudice.
Over time, the question “what do you think about sex toys?” has been posed to various people, male and female and I’ll just let you read some of my favourite responses.
I’m used to this narrative swung in the opposite direction, where women tirelessly insert themselves into awkward contests to win back a man’s love. So shamelessly I will admit that there was a soft gloat in my heart as I watched these two men so out of character, removed from their social composure, and degenerated into the dirt of combat, all because they discovered that each of them had been played for a side beau.
What I'm trying to say is that the New Year will probably not be different from the last one, and this is why. You and I are still very possibly the same, with our human capacity for foolishness and error.
Having someone constantly poke holes at your vulnerabilities almost seems like a benign price to pay for the laughter they bring you, except that what you have isn’t even real.