The Package

The person who came up with the adage ‘Don’t Judge A Book By Its Cover’ must have had a life changing experience.

It’s often the case with us humans to make an instant judgment about people within the first 5 – 10 minutes of meeting them. We pick up the subtle clues from body language and mannerisms to make an instant decision on what will determine the next phase of the encounter. Books would tell you first impressions are the ones that last the most so you need to put your foot forward at all times and be careful of the vibes you send.

I often find that I make up my mind about people within the first 10 minutes of meeting them. Those who happen to land on my irritated list, tend to work a whole lot harder at convincing me of my error in mislabeling them. If I don’t like you, it would take a message from God to persuade me otherwise.

You would be amazed at the things I could pick up as a reason why I do not like a person. Reasons range from
- Smiled too much
- Didn’t stand straight
- Too strong perfume
- Bad hairdo
- Humorless
- Choice of conversation

So it was just my luck that one cloudy day from work I met this fascinating young gentleman; real interesting, funny, good diction and easy on the eyes. I don’t usually talk to strangers especially on the bus but his introduction into our talk caught me off guard and pricked my curiosity. I was so engrossed in our talk that I missed my busstop. My colleague also in the bus had to call my attention so I wouldn’t miss the next stop. We exchanged numbers and agreed to meet up sometime within the week.

Unfortunately for me, I became the office joke and my colleagues gave me grief for a few weeks after that singular action. I didn’t mind it though; I had finally found someone worth my time.

I was on a lucky streak, my impressions were on point. Polite, articulate, gentlemanly, courteous. I was walking on sunshine for a week. I saw beautiful babies, imagined house hunting and decorating (yes o, after just a week). Prayers answered, I danced the funky chicken every night.

Month 2, I got slapped. Bitch slapped.

My perfect gentleman was married. Imagine my surprise. The worst part was that I got bitch slapped by baby mama number 2. Like seriously!!!

Yeah seriously. Don’t know how I missed the signs.

Maybe I was blinded by my picture. My ideal man. The razzmatazz that I didn’t notice things like character and integrity. Or even have a conversation that was meaningful before daydreaming about babies.

The bitch slap hurts till this day cos it’s my reality jolt to look past the façade and discover the hidden potentials that perhaps lies within a short, balding, sweaty, rotund man.

Hidden treasures I’m told to find.

Adults Only

As I sat in the hall I wondered what the hell I was doing here.

The room was filled with 18 - 20 something year olds paying rapt attention to the man speaking in front of the room. His lips are moving but for the life of me I can't focus on what he's saying. His lips were moving and for a moment I looked around to confirm that he was actually speaking. Yes, he was cos I heard the lady beside me chuckle and nod in agreement.

Ok, so I'm the one with the problem. I need to snap back to reality.

"For your assignment, you'll have to conduct an audit for your chosen organization" he was saying. "You remember how to go about conducting a secondary research?" No response. Did anyone not take the class in market research? He asked.

I raised my hand in reflex. That was my first mistake. You know you're old or the most intelligent when your classmates take your business card/contact details at the end of a class.

I choose to accept the former. I feel old. If we were to trade stories during the break I'd be talking about pitches, closing business deals and my experience of working with various state governments and what would I expect as a follow-up conversation? my classmates asking me for job openings at my office. Yep, I’m old.

I should not be taking this class. What am I doing here? Yes, I'm a bit condescending but really, this adult education business is exhausting. I should be home with my family, resting, bonding, clearing my head and preparing for the coming week. Shish.

I hate school. Hated it at 12, at 18 and I still hate it even now. Whoever said things got better with age didn't go back to school after 28.

*Deep sigh*. I miss my bed and its 8am on a Saturday morning. I quietly excuse myself like I’m going to the bathroom and never look back. Who needs the torture of adult education anyways? I certainly don't.

Good riddance.

Now We're In A Relationship

Women love definitions, we love to put labels on everything so it sits right. We want to know where we stand in our relationships with the opposite sex so we read meanings into everything. Things just don't happen; every event and conversation is inadvertently linked. Or so we think.

We go with a guy to a wedding and automatically we see ourselves as his girlfriend. He invites us for a service at his church and we start wondering if he's just parading us to the sisters in church as a sign for them to keep off. We go for a family function, to which he has invited all his friends and we jump to the conclusion that he wants us to meet his family. Laughable right!

The mind of a woman. Navigating this treacherous minefield is an exercise in futility. You never come out alive so why bother. Trust me; you don’t know the half of what goes on in our minds.

Here I thought that women were a rare breed. We were special because of our antics and our skills in making mountains out of molehills; our ability to use tears and sometimes blackmail to get what we want out of each other and our men. This belief was firmly shattered by my new found Prince Charming. I never knew Princes read meanings into everything!!!

An accidental broadcast inviting my contacts for a church event awoke the sleeping attentions of my Prince turned Stalker. He automatically assumed I was coming around to his advances.

"So when are you picking me up and which service are we going for 7am or 9am?"
Say what? "I'm not going anywhere with you" was my immediate response.

And so began my back and forth discussion at 3.30am on a Sunday morning. He sure knows how to pick the wrong time to start a conversation.

This was not his first attempt to get me to go to church with him. Every time I said No to his ‘marriage proposal’ he always countered it with "Let’s go to church together, to show you I’m serious”. I didn’t know going to church together, for a guy, was a sign in the dating world for serious contenders.

"I've always said we should go to church together and finally you've invited me, why are you taking it back? Or you don't want to go with me because you're going with someone else? Why are you treating me so? Why is your heart closed? Remember, I don't have a car so I'll be waiting for your call."

"Dude, it was a broadcast, sent to all my contacts. Quit deluding yourself and go to bed".

He finally hung up when he realized I stopped responding and snored loudly into the phone.

"I’m going for a naming ceremony, please come with me. I’ve told all my friends about you and I want to introduce you to them". Sometimes I wonder if I should learn his language so as to communicate better my disinterest in ever going anywhere with him or my utter distain and disrespect for him and all that he stands for.

But seriously, who came up with this rule that going to church together makes you a couple? Or going for occasions automatically makes you a prime candidate for a relationship let alone marriage. If anyone has seen that rule book kindly scan some pages as evidence.

For a lady, running off tangent and reading meanings into everything, is mildly acceptable just because of the way we are wired; but this attitude from a dude, it’s totally unacceptable and reeks of desperation.

Please correct me if I'm wrong.

The Stalker

I had a day. You know one of those days that you’re at your wits end; you can explode at the least provocation so all you wanted to do was get home, curl into bed, sleep and forget.

The drive home, fortunately was smooth, otherwise, all the drivers on the way would have experienced my representation of road rage. As I drove in and shut the gate, I heard a knock at the gate. Who would be knocking at this late hour I remembered thinking. The dog was having a field day barking away and that was contributing to the pounding in my head.

I looked through the peephole and lo and behold it was Prince Charming. I prayed for strength.

He knocked and knocked but I refused to open. I was honestly terrified. “How did he find out where I lived”? I was home alone; as the continued to knock I began to imagine some horrible scenarios where I’m gutted and the last words I’ll ever hear would be ‘If I don’t have you, no one else will”.

When all became silent, I cautiously opened the gate and confirmed he had left. Relief.

Then the calls began.

I finally picked.
“Why didn’t you open the gate? You saw me coming towards you and you closed the gate on my face.” “I’m only trying to be nice to you. Why won’t you let me in?” According to him, he waited for me and finally spotted me driving in, so he came to say ‘hi’.

He went on to emphasize that he brought some shoes for me to select. This was his way of telling me to take him seriously – I am capable.

I let him have it. There were no restraints in my voice or choice of words neither was I civilized. At the end of my speech which was a combination of insults and name calling, this stalking was definitely at its end. No self respecting guy would take accept being called desperate or compared to a woman.

After my tirade, he said he was only trying to tell me he’d bought me a pair of shoes and wanted to be sure they’d fit since he wasn’t sure what my size was. He later sent the pictures of the shoes and apologized for stalking.

When I opened the picture, they looked horrible.
I called to confirm the worst and yes , they were Okirika.

It was finally over.