THE STUPID THINGS WE DO WHEN WE'RE IN LOVE

...Riding with my boyfriend in his mother's beatdown Volkswagen beetle and loving it.Gosh!I would die if anyone had taken a photo and showed it to me now!

MUCH ADO ABOUT FUNMI HAIR

I was sitting in the office one afternoon when a tall not so pretty girl walked towards me and asked for directions to the ladies. When I did give her and she turned to walk away, I couldn’t help but notice the bouncy shiny weave on her head. Suddenly, it was as if the whole world was in slow motion as her hair moved swayed like the ocean to the cool evening breeze.

I called her back immediately and asked her what weave she had on. “Oh, it’s just Funmi Hair”, she replied rolling her eyes as ran her fingers through it for emphasis. I went green with envy and I contemplated dragging her into the ladies and chopping her hair off. But then, that would be against the law, wouldn’t it? However, at that exact moment I knew that I had to get me some Funmi Hair or die trying.

When I talked about my latest mission to my friends, to my greatest surprise, two out of three of them already had Funmi hair stashed in their closet. When I asked them why they hadn’t worn it yet, they said they were reserving it for a very special occasion where a huge crowd of ladies to ogle at it. They advised me to contact the Funmi Hair dealer here in Lagos to make enquiries about the product. When I called her, she seemed rather pleasant at first but when she told me the price and I asked her if I could pay installmentaly over the next six years, she hung up on me.

The next day, my boyfriend and I were chilling lazily at his apartment when I asked him the reason why next week was so special. "It's your birthday on Monday, isn't it?"He replied, smiling as if he had just solved an age old riddle. I smiled back and proceeded to tell him what I wanted as a birthday gift. "Is it not one of those human hair weaves I see around?"He enquired, "No, it is not, it’s Funmi Hair! You can look it up!"I retorted. I went on to give him the dealer's number, with hopes that maybe he could get a better deal. He kissed my cheek and promised me he would do his best to make me happy.

Less than 48 hours later, I got a message from him that read "Why don't you just sell me to slavery in order to pay for your stupid Funmi Hair!"

I am still undeterred, next stop is the bank...I'm sure they have some kind of “hair” soft loan I can apply for...

Morning People,
So i'm having breakfast with two of my "favouritest" friends and they start talking about my new blog. They dissect, analyze and criticize my posts for a little over an hour and when they were done, i smiled and said "So why don't you leave your comments?". They came up with several excuses from  knowing me personally to they weren't sure if i REALLY wrote the posts. Well, dearest friends, here's a piece i wrote a while ago when my mind was in a very dark place.... Hope this is sufficient proof.

She lay down mystified by the blood

She willed her body to move but nothing

Then she moved again but not by will

"If you ever in your life!"

It came again and she went numb

Then the sound on the floor

She saw the shoes,Ferragamo for last christmas

They moved away and then her eyes stopped moving too.

THE EX FACTOR

Last week, I had an unexpected encounter with my ex when he showed up to rescue me from a car situation I found myself in. So when my car was up and running and I was barreling home in the middle of the night, I couldn’t help musing; there was a reason they called them “ex”, or wasn’t there? It was pretty interesting for me because my relationship with Ken* (the ex in question) didn’t end in the most pleasant way. He had been so nice to me; he bought me gifts and took me to the fancy places I loved. I, on the other hand, was quite rude and uncaring towards him. In retrospect, I honestly think I was in that relationship for what I was getting out of it. I recall that when I eventually got tired of it and called him to end it, he cried like a baby and begged me not to leave. I severed all forms of communication ties with him and went on my way. Three years later, my car battery is dead and I’m stuck in the middle of nowhere when I call on him for help.

Now I’m at sitting at home asking myself the age old question; “Is it ok to be friends with your ex?” Although I know the answer to this question should be yes, in most cases, I beg to differ. We have all had our fair share of “ex” experiences, some good and some downright ugly. So the real question should be which of our exes are we to make friends with and which of them should we drop like a hot potato?

One particular “ex” experience I had left such a bitter taste in my mouth, I felt like kicking myself for getting into the relationship in the first place. Bobby* and I had been dating for five months while he was away in the UK and everything was just fine. I knew that I was not much of a fan of long distance relationships but Bobby* seemed like a pleasant guy and he always had the right things to say. When he announced that he was coming home on holiday, I was so excited and I looked forward to spending quality time in each other’s presence. When he finally arrived, I discovered that he was quite different from the man I had been talking, chatting and skyping with all this while. The personality change was so quick, I dialed his UK number a couple of times to see if “my” Bobby* would pick up.

The proverbial stroke that broke the camel’s back happened one evening when he picked his phone and started chatting up another girl while I was seated right in front of him. When I expressed my displeasure, he gave me a stern look and asked me to “get out” of his apartment. I was so shocked I couldn’t even speak. On my way out, I met his uncle whom he was staying with who happened to like me a lot. He asked me what happened and when I started to give my side of the story, the tears started pouring from my eyes. He called Bobby* and asked him to apologize as that was no way to treat a lady but he refused. I walked out of the house as embarrassed as I could possibly feel.

A few days later, in an effort to be friends with my ex, I called Bobby* to apologize for being rude in anyway. I hadn’t even gotten a friendly “Hello” out of the way when he started using all the ‘f’ words in the ‘f’ dictionary. He used the ‘b’ word a couple of times and threatened to do something to me if I ever called his number again.

Now, when I juxtapose both “ex” experiences, I can’t help but wonder what the ex factor is. Is it that the ones we are not good to are the ones that make good exes and the ones we are good to make the horrible exes?