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Single Lady Living In Lagos Episode I

So I wake up this fine morning, it’s Friday and I am just very happy to see the end of this day. My enemies were not going to have it, I come out of my house by 6:15 am and who do I see standing outside my gate?

Abraham! Yes Abraham! The same Abraham that told me I would die alone because my standards were too high. Some men just don’t have any chill pill. Chaaaiiiii!!!

What do you want?’ I ask as Musa closes the gate behind me

‘Don’t be like that, I just felt you might need a ride to your office’, he moves towards me

No thank you’ I move to create space between us ‘the staff bus would be here in a minute’

Ada naaaa!!’ he smiles, how I love his perfect dentition and those pink lips, they look like they should be bruised, by my lips of course. I gather composure and step aside. This one would not kill me abeg.

Look, I was wrong, I’m sorry’  he moves closer and holds my shoulder.

Mo ti gbo‘ I shrug so his hands move ‘ Unlike some people I do not own my company so if you do not mind……’ I move and start walking to my bus stop

Ada this your attitude is bad, you are not Miss Independent, be submissive and just maybe.…..’ he stops talking as I stop walking.

You are obviously not Ne-yo and no Abraham, I won’t apologize for wanting to have stability and security for myself before I demand it from any man’  I look at  the bus stop as the staff bus driver parks ‘ Make sure this is the last time you get to my house by 6 am to tell me rubbish.’

I get to the bus and I manage to smile at the driver, as I sit, I stare out of the window wondering if my standards would truly be the end of me. Mama is in Enugu telling me I should come and do introduction this year. With a mannequin perhaps. Papa would have understood, he taught me not to lower my standards, he showed me through his marriage how men were supposed to love, cherish and honour their wives. They can only do that if the women had standards. Abraham is the second guy this year telling me to lower my standards.

Maybe I should define what I call standards………..

Ada you have been quiet, kilode?’ Temi scatters my braids from behind. I turn to smile at him, but he has switched seats. I rest my head on his shoulder and make sure my face doesn’t stain his white shirt (makeup struggles)

Abraham was at my house this morning, apparently I have high standards and that would be the end of me’  I try to sound sarcastic, Temi isn’t fooled as he looks down at me.

‘ If I wasn’t playing for the other team, you would be my IT-girl, no man wants to chase a woman with no standards. Only weak men‘. He puts his hands around me and we remain quiet till the bus pulls up at the office.

As we make our way to our ridiculously tall building, I dread the long flight of stairs and do not ask me why I wouldn’t take the elevator . Temi holds my hand as we start our long trip to our office floor. He doesn’t have to but he does it everyday.

I look at our hands, why are all the good men, gay, married or still being formed in their mother’s womb?

‘Temi!!!!’ he holds my hand tighter, then he let go of my hand………………………..



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Single Lady Living In Lagos
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