Nobody Puts Baby in a Corner

Men always settle for the conventional. 

There always seems to be a market for conventional women. You know, the women who are the good homemakers, no hair out of place, agreeable, do not talk back or question their actions, good sex but nothing adventurous, good job but not a demanding career that takes them away from the home, nice family upbringing, loves kids, trim mummy mode figure. You know the conventional women. There is never a dearth of them because men never tire of them. Pick any player once he's tired of playing around, he looks around for the most conventional girlfriend on his list, marries her and settles down to a bunch of babies.

I can categorically say that everyone of my exes ended up with one of such women. As I returned to Nigeria, they are 8 - 10 years into the marriage, a couple of kids in and they are all miserable. They long for the risk, the danger, the spontaneity, the fire in their belly, the magnetism. All of which cannot be found with the conventional women they ended up with. They complain that life (and sex) is like experiencing the same soup day after day. No matter how they try to stir their wives from normalcy, the women still just want to be good wives and mothers, and feel content enough doing that. And in some way the men are happy that the women are as such and they don't try to force them to be anything else. So the hunt continues as they try to balance their home life with some excitement. 

If you look at all the women who, like me, are a little older and still single you'd find that they are not conventional, not in any way. We enjoy sex, are adventurous, we own our sexuality, pseudo feminists who believe in equality, and we want a career, a demanding profession that we can try to work into some work/life balance. We tip the scales. 

Sometimes when I look at all the notes of conventionalism it reassures me why I don't want a marriage per se. I don't want to fit into that mold where he looks at me as if I was picked for my ability to squeeze into a cardboard cutout. I want to be alive, fresh, loud, hair out of place, bold, adventurous. I have sacrificed so many relationships due to my failure to conform and as each one finds their way to some conventional woman, I suppose I will have to keep sacrificing some more...

As the famous line in Dirty Dancing says..."Nobody puts baby in a corner."

And nobody will. 

Let Us Pray

I want to take this moment to pray.
To give thanks. To call on the Lord.
This lent has been...
When you're tried you ask yourself, "Is there a God?"
As if He never existed when you walked into the storm
I became so cold that there were days that felt...difficult
But I trust God
Above all
Even though I never prayed
Throughout the dark
I just kept my faith dark, whole, even as it was cracking
I trust God
We've been through too much
Why is this one any different?
Any more difficult?
Any darker? Any more troubling?
Who got me through all that?
Who wiped my tears and comforted me?
Who assured me that there was a point?
Who made sure I saw that point eventually?
Him.
So I trust God
I trust Him wholeheartedly
And if anyone wants to leave
Hurt me. Abuse me. Cheat me.
They're just making space for God's blessings
His daughter's love had been disrespected enough
Trusting God that His love is enough
I am glad that I prayed.
Thank you Lord for the comfort of knowing that you are there
And that my hope in You is reassuring me
And renewing
My trust
I trust God
Trust Him always
Amen.

Don't Ask, Don't Tell - The Single Person's Guide

What's the most annoying question you get asked as a single person?

I used to keep a list that rotated between 5 frequently asked questions and then I stopped. What's the point of a list when the questions are all memorized? You can almost read them off their faces.

I also used to keep a list of standard responses to these questions. But then, the listeners didn't seem to like the responses they were getting. The standard responses got more irritable and impolite the more I got the standard questions.

Seriously how much patience do you have to summon to answer the same questions over and over with a forced smile?

It takes a considerable amount of restraint to suppress a scream every time you get asked. Once you say you're single, you can almost count to ten before THE questions start coming like little raindrops in Spring, falling on your face smudging your makeup. Somehow I think these listeners, with their overly inquisitive minds who seek to probe the single person, already know that these questions have probably been done to death. However, it still does not deter them from asking you this single person who would rather be left alone the same very question. They still want to know.

A. So, why are you still single?

Out of all the questions, this one ranks at the top as most frequently asked and most annoying of them all.

The rest of the line up of questions vary depending on your age, profession, the location, the setting, the community.

There was a time it was:

B. "Are you going to that event/play/concert by yourself?" Or "Are you going to dinner/movie by yourself?" Or 

C. "Does it not get lonely by yourself?

And of course, the answer is always Yes.

Then there was:

D. You got a (wo)man? Can't believe you don't have a (wo)man?

I can't believe that's even a question more like a gasp of astonishment. But the questions, no matter how asked irk all the same. Especially as you cannot really ascertain the intent of the listener - do they genuinely care that you are still single? Is it a cause they would like to take on themselves, like global warming or world hunger? Will the answer to that question ultimately solve the riddle of their life? 

I am single by choice.

Great answer. Then, this triggers the next set of questions. Usually C above.

If you are single by choice, what inspired that choice?

Huh, it continues.

Being...The Single Life

There's the needing and wanting part of life that we can never really get over. 

The needing to be a bigger part of something - either in our work or at home. That's what makes women want to be mothers, women of the house, running things at home. And if you're lucky you get to run it on both sides of the spectrum - at work too. You become manager or Vice President or Senior Vice President and you run things. Order some men around and be the boss that is in charge of holding it together (or at least you think so) and no one can accomplish any work in the company without you. 

Rarely do you have the two together. You're probably exhausted from running the home to want to run work, and vice versa. You must be some she-heroine to want to run the two. 

We all want to be a part of something. Very few of us just coast by. Are just content with being. Being part of life, our writing, our cafes, our society. Being the tenant, the worker who punches in every day and completes her task, being the good girlfriend (when and if the men let us) being the good daughter who calls over the weekend and remembers birthdays and Mothers' days. The good friend to the few that have remained true to us. Being. The Single Lady. That exists. And is. 

Is the world content with us just being? Not wanting to be part of any one thing in particular but incorporating all of them in total keeps us Alive. And Here. 

It exists nonetheless. The urge. Mean more. Be more. 

Concern Redefined...

Everything is going to be alright.
It all works out in the end. You'll see.
God has a plan.
This too shall pass.
Tough it out.
How can I help?
Ogadichanma (my personal favorite).

- All awesome alternatives to Pele

Kpele is not an Option

If you've learnt nothing else from me, please know this:

If (and when) a dear friend confides in you about their current issue/problem, please no matter how detached you may be or want to seem from their situation, DO NOT under no circumstances utter the words "PELE" or KPELE" in an obligatory manner.
It will not help. 
It may seem like it does to others but trust me, this is not the solution to their problem.
It is even more irritating to hear if you are not Yoruba.
What are we now, all Yoruba and mandated to utter Yoruba words of consolation?
I’m guessing this is probably not the reason why this problem is being shared with you.
It’s being shared so you can offer them a shoulder to whine (or cry) on.
So Kpele is not the word.
So, if I can’t say Kpele my safe word, what do I do? 
Listen. Hear them out. Be Still with them. Console them. Use words. Use God's words (preferred method). Offer to buy them a (strong) drink to cheer them up (Anita preferred method). Offer some exercise to boost their metabolism. Offer them some calming tea. Anything else except for "Pele" or "Kpele" (you are not Yoruba so quit trying to pretend like you are).
Let this friend know that there is light at the end of their problem.
Offer up suggestions. Proffer solutions. Crack jokes. Be there for them.
Whatever you do, just act like you care.
And by all means use words other than "Pele" or "Kpele".
I don't know when we became a society that thinks an obligatory "Kpele" is an acceptable show of compassion.
We’re Africans. We used to care about our neighbor’s problems not just pretend that we do.
Let’s get back to doing just that.

-- That is it. That's all.

P.S. If you're my one friend that thinks saying "Pele" is a sure sign of compassion. It is not. It’s just something people say when they don't want to be present. I'd prefer you'd be present, okay, Oga?

But I forgive you.

After the Weekend...

After the weekend, I always feel so well rested, relaxed, transposed from the present into...somewhere quite unlike the present, the current. I just feel like a different version of myself. Until I cringe when I remember that I have to go to work and be in the present and I am aware, hoping for an escape. 

This happens anywhere I live. It's not a momentary feeling because of my current habitation. It's just maybe the Sunday blues the eve of Monday. But here it's more like facing the outside. And that outside says this is you and this is where I live now. 

That is my present, my current, that is what I spend all weekend trying to transpose from. 

Mr. Pele...

Today. 

Almost did a bad thing in reaction to someone's audacity at blocking me because I dared to correct their insensitivity. 

How can men get away with being insensitive but women, when we do it, we are termed "Bitches!"

I have come to the conclusion that yes, I need to stop communicating with this person. 

Asides from a few stolen moments here and there, as I evaluate the relationship what have I gained from this person.   

They didn't help me get a job - when I knew they could. 

They've put in my head all these women whose subservient behavior makes my skin crawl. 

They've never told me a nice thing. Not once. You look pretty. I miss you. You have a great rack (I'll even take that) Not one single compliment. Instead, they've told me so many hurtful things. "You're fat." "Wish you were skinny." "You're very conceited." Things I don't want to hear, not exactly constructive criticism. 

They've never said, "Let's put our heads together and solve this problem." Telling them my problem is like a waste of breath actually. It's met with a very insensitive spewed "Pele". That phrase reminds me of one of those women I so wish I didn't know. It tells me he's fucked (and is fucking) one too many Yoruba women.  

They've never bought me anything. Not one single gift that shows their appreciation of me. That indicates it's from the heart. And this person does buy stuff for women, just not me.

They've never introduced me to any of their friends. I'd actually be sitting in their office and co-workers would walk in and they would act like I was invisible - someone that didn't matter. I never understood that. Bad manners, I suppose. 

They've caused me a lot of confusion, emotional pain and heartache. (see all the items above)

They've brought on a lot of poetry which is good. Creativity is always welcomed. But there's also been no long lasting joy. As a matter of fact, joy is slowed down, rudely interrupted so we don't get any ideas (Yes roll your eyes adult men still play these childish games). Why would someone intentionally jeopardize something that's good?

We should stop communicating. Period. I'm tired of being confused about why I'm attracted to this person. I'm tired of being haunted by images of our past, his insensitive remarks and urgh, those god-awful women. :-( 

I am an adult female. And you're either with me or you're not. This gentleman obviously doesn't want to be. And based on how insensitive they've been, about my body, my life etc...

I shouldn't want to be with them either.

Happily Single

My name is Anita and I am happily single.

No. It is not a myth. I am single. And I'm happy. 

Do you know what it means to be happily single? 

The other day at lunch, I was having this conversation with a newly single recently divorced male friend of mine. Like most recently single people, this person experiences a lot of loneliness. It's to be expected. One day you're in a house filled with little children, warm hugs, love, laughter, toys on the floor. And the next, it's just your miserable 'ole self, with a phone you're begging to ring. Admittedly, it can be a little daunting, almost as if the silence is deafening, threatening you with its stillness. Reminds me of the empty hours that occur when you first break up with someone with whom you spent a lot of time. All this free time is now yours, what do you do with it? It gets rather lonely. 

This friend didn't share this much with me but I put the pieces together using clues, particularly as I often catch him urging his phone to ring (LOL).

To stir a level of comfort, I remarked: 

You have to embrace being single and before you know it you will love it.

He responded coldly: What is that? 'Love' being single? Isn't that something single people tell themselves in pretense. What's to love about being single? Being single is rather miserable. I believe in companionship and friendship and love, unconditional love. Saying your happy single means you don't want any of that and that is just fooling yourself because every one wants somebody to love.

True. So true? Are we just fooling ourselves by proclaiming that we are happily single? Do we honestly love the friendship we share with our single selves.

What type of single person would I be if I couldn't find some way to help this struggling newly single person. 

In response I said: Loving it is our way of dealing with the hand that we've been dealt. Rather than crumbling up in a corner and sulking our way through our loneliness. We live it. Breathe it. Embrace it. To learn to love it. Otherwise, it would defeat us. Otherwise, that deafening silence would drown us in strokes of pity. We love it to live through it. 

That's my story. That's my strength in being single.

How about you? Do you think all happily single people are just fooling themselves?