No one wants to share a sad story, no one wants to be the topic of ‘gist’, no one likes his or her business out there (unless of course that’s what puts food on your table) and I would like to believe that no one likes drama.



Everyone wants to share a good story, everyone wants to let the world know when they are happy about something new in their lives and with the advent of social media, we have all turned into mini-celebrities with some of us choosing to be active on the likes of Facebook or Twitter or Instagram or BBM or Whatsapp – making our lives accessible to everyone…friends, family, strangers, stalkers and even exes.

In times past, when people start out in a new relationship, one of the things they had to face was the issue of when to let their family and close friends know about their new partners. There was a form of tradition to it and most times not a lot of ‘outsiders’ got to know until the wedding day. But now things have become a bit different and there is the debate of ‘the public declaration’ especially on social media.

Of course I am assuming that everyone at one point or the other does a public declaration of their relationship either by changing their relationship status on Facebook, putting up pictures which could suggest a union or direct and indirect shout outs. For some it’s from the moment they officially start dating while for others it’s on the day they get engaged, truth is, if you are young and social media savvy in 2015, the likelihood of having a public declaration is moderately high.

Recently while having a conversation with two of my really good friends, one of them pointed out that she had no plans to have a public declaration until she got engaged, mostly because she believed that people are naturally nosy and with social media, they would find it very easy to keep track of the number of failed relationships before finally getting married. The other friend believed that a public declaration means you have nothing to hide and builds trust in the relationship because then everyone knows who the ‘main chic’ is (which again is another topic for debate).

I could see where each of them was coming from because I happen to be one of those that never forgets pictures of couples on social media and I eventually notice when they get ‘missing’ and if you are close enough to me, I will ask you what happened. At the moment, I have a few social media friends that I could give the chronicles of their relationship history, from the hookups to the blissful months to the troubled times and the eventual breakup. One time, I had this Facebook acquaintance that got engaged and I remember thinking ‘FINALLY O’ #dontjudgeme

When put in that position though, I struggle with the pros and cons of going public, on one hand I don’t care what people think and on the other hand, I do care because a discounted bride price is not on my agenda #justkidding (ok maybe I am 10% serious on that one) but in reality the idea of having people who aren’t close to me know details of my life kind of irks me. And then there are other questions I have to answer like ‘What happens to the pictures if we break up?’ ‘And if we do break up when is the right time to take down those pictures and status updates e.t.c?

As I am obviously still confused on this issue, I would like you to let me know what you think; is there a right time to go public with a new relationship? Should you even go public with your new love? What happens if you break up? Is there usually a mutual agreement for these things?

Okay I think that’s enough questions on this matter

Use the comment box below to share your thoughts


Still on going public, nominations for the Nigerian Blog Awards are up and we would like you to pleaasssseeee nominate Single In Gidi for the following

– Best Humour Blog
– Best New Blog
– Best Relationship Blog

You can nominate by going to

Thank you 🙂


I write about the hot spots in Lagos and this might be considered as either a deviation or a bonus! How una see am?

On my way to share a drink with friends who’d spent all day cycling, I stumbled upon a gem! It’s a bit out-of-the-way but if you live around Ajah, you’re in luck!

Picture an African store in the US then welcome the latest Greengrocers in town- PUMPKINS GREENGROCERS. It was such a delight shopping there (I couldn’t resist!). I set out to have a drink and ended up buying fish, spices, fresh food items and of course

It is quite possible that the amount of stuff I bought is also directly related to the service I received from the owner, a very upbeat and full-of-life older woman who must have lived a significant amount of her years abroad. She kept me engaged as we talked food! Now, y’all know this here lady loves food, ba?

I’ll let the pictures do the talking. Look out for the lovely bags they provide for shopping. Unique! I think I got a truly African experience without the noise and mess of going to a market.

If you like, you can say the noise and dirt is what adds to the African Market experience, but as a babe wey no like that kain thing, Pumpkins is it for me…

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By the way, incase you are wondering why I am talking about a grocery store today and not a restaurant, just know that, not everyday is parry, eat out and drink, somedays is buy ingredients and cook at home.

I’ll sha bring you gist about the place I went to for the drink next week.

Until then,

Una doh!

Miss Wakadugbe

PUMPKINS is located at Puri Mall, Km 25, Lekki/Epe express way, opposite former LASU, Oko-Ado, Lekki


Soooooo there’s a picture going around of Mrs Carter getting on top of things, if you have not seen it, here is the pic:

And of course everyone has one opinion or the other about her compromising ‘pose’ but people like me though, know that this is not new because a few years ago there was this:

 and this…

Therefore, when it comes to Mrs Carter and everyone like her, this is nothing new, she’s only being updated on the happenings around her husband.

I’m not going to talk about snooping through cell phones/emails/Facebook messages because there are a million and one articles on that out there and also a list of reasons on why you should or should not…(it’s a sign of insecurity they say)

Couples are often encouraged to be open in relationships especially in marriages – something about not keeping secrets from one another but as someone who has been in a relationship or is in one now, do you really need to know everything your partner does on a daily basis? Can there be room for secrets no matter how little?

Use the comment box below and let me know what you think





Oh and there’s this too


Lean Pickings

Standing in the shadows cast by the low-hanging plants, Wale and I feasted on the spread in front of us. After a moment of gawking I continued to the poolside while Wale hung back.

‘Hi,’ I muttered to people I passed until I got to the table where the drinks were. I set down the shopping bag and proceeded to add our drinks to what was already on the overcrowded table.

A girl dressed in very short cut-off jeans and a loose-fitting t-shirt knotted just under her breasts walked up to the other side of the table and gave me a quizzical look.

‘This must be the hostess,’ I figured.

‘Hey,’ I said to her. ‘I’m friends with Wale over there,’ I pointed to where he stood in the shadows. She followed my finger and squinted. I don’t know if she saw him, but when she turned to face me she was nodding, her expression more relaxed.

‘Leave the drinks there,’ she said. ‘My name’s Ify and this is my party.’

‘Bobo,’ I said.

She raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say a word. I got that quite a bit when I first tell people my name.

‘Small chops are over there, drinks here and cupcakes there. Feel free to serve yourself but, for some things, ask about suitability before you eat them.’

‘Was that a gleam in her eye?’

She turned and was gone before I could decide.

Wale parked his bulk beside me just then.

‘Dude, I see you’ve met Ify.’

‘No thanks to you.’ I smiled. ‘The girl take style fine, but her breasts small.’

‘You wan take her compare this one wey just enter now? Dem don fall finish.’

I followed his glance to a group of girls that just arrived. They were doing the customary plumage dance girls do at these events: yelp, flutter hands, hug and kiss the air around each others’ ears. There were five girls there but I could tell in an instant the girl he meant.

Slim, light-skinned and dressed in a long loose-fitting gown, she was easily the most beautiful of the group. She turned away from an embrace and I saw what Wale had referenced.

True, her breasts would fail the pencil test, but I liked what I saw, and I wanted to get to know her.

‘What do you think about Ify’s warning about what one ate here?’ Wale’s voice close to my ears – the music had come on.

‘I think she meant some things on display are dubious,’ I yelled to be heard above the din, ‘and that includes the punch.’ I slapped his hand that was reaching for the ladle in the punch bowl away.

‘Safe to mix your own drinks, eh?’ Wale asked.

‘You betcha.’ I said in my best imitation of a Texan drawl.

More people arrived and we were joined by three people Wale knew. I knew one of them, the girl. We got more drinks and stood around the small chops area for ease of access.

‘You know those cupcakes are spiked right?’ one of Wale’s friends said.


‘I’m serious. You can ask Ify. And the punch too.’

‘This is my problem with these parties,’ I said after a while.


‘Look at us,’ I rolled my head round our circle standing there, ‘we’re four guys and a babe. Meanwhile see that group there,’ I nodded, ‘and there, four girls no guy and three girls one guy.’

‘It’s because you people come to parties as groups, and you don’t trust yourselves enough to mingle.’ Wale said.

‘Imma remedy that,’ Wale’s other friend said, raised his red cup to us in salute before downing its contents.

‘Plucky bastard,’ friend one said. ‘Watch them cut him to size.’

‘Nah,’ Wale said. ‘He’s a fine boy, dem no go fall hin hand.’

‘See,’ I said, ‘they’ll let him settle in and then they’ll find reasons to go do something. Soon he’ll be standing there cup in hand wondering what happened.’

We watched him pull up next to the group of four girls, #TeamChimamanda judging from the natural hair they were wearing in puffs and braids and doughnuts. And when some talk floated across the water from them to us, it carried with it phrases like “favourite writer”, “that was deep”, “book club”.

A plump girl dressed in a floral gown, the one with her hair in a doughnut, was the first to leave. I counted to thirty-five before the next, a painfully thin sort, waved her left hand and left.

I wished then I had initiated a bet with Wale.

They moved to a mixed group gathered a few feet from where I stood. The light-skinned girl in black was in the group. They were getting ready to play a game.

I sidled next to her and listened; they were about to play Taboo. I had never played, but from the way it was described, it sounded a lot like 30 seconds without the board. And I fancied myself a decent player.

We split into two teams and I wound up in the same team as Ms Light-skin. It wasn’t too hard, all I had to do was stand in her general vicinity.

I introduced myself and learned her name was Ivanse. She had this gothic thing going: black gown, dark shawl, eyes lined in a fashion reminiscent of Egyptians with the swoosh at the corner of the eyes, black lipstick, no smile and limp handshake. She had a dark nail polish on.

The game was going okay and it was her turn when the DJ started playing 9ja jams. The game was abandoned in an instant.

Wale and the others had hooked up with two other girls while I was away playing Taboo, and I got introduced. I forgot their names as soon as Wale said it.

‘What’s the point of a pool party if no one is going to get wet?’ It was Wale.

‘I’ve always wondered o.’ I said. ‘How about we get in the water?’

We had come dressed with swimming trunks under our jeans, so it was a matter of dropping our pants, tossing our shirts and diving into the pool.

Okay, we did not dive. The pool didn’t look that deep.

We swam around, just the two of us, and initially I was self-conscious, but I soon forgot about everyone else the more laps I did.

‘Dude,’ I tapped Wale’s arm, ‘I gotta get out of this water, the chlorine’s burning my eyes.’

‘Chlorine? What chlorine?’ he asked me like a retard.

Without replying him I climbed out of the pool and went to the bathroom where I splashed water in my eyes – eyes I did not recognise in the mirror hanging over the sink.

Surely those bloodshot eyes were not mine.

The irritation was so great that I couldn’t stay any longer at the party.

‘I saved you one of these.’

I turned to see Ivanse holding her left arm out to me.

I looked from the cupcake in her hand past her slightly parted lips to her eyes and there was no mistaking the come on.

‘No, thank you.’ I said, trying to smile. Those were the hardest words I had to say in 2014, but my eyes were streaming, my nose runny and my cornea screamed with each movement of my eyeballs. Even the light breeze of the night felt like a thousand grains of sand under my lids.

I managed to drive home without hitting anyone or anything, my eyes open and unmoving for most of the drive, my windows wound up, air-conditioner off.

At home I rinsed both eyes out with water again and again until the irritation subsided, then I crawled into bed, shut my eyes tightly and hugged my pillow.

P.S: Do you have resolutions for the year? Have you broken them yet? No? You are the real action superheroes. You can follow me on Twitter @BoboNkiti to catch up everyday before Wednesday

We’ve got mail: I don’t think his parents like me

Hello my people! How are you surviving this harmattan season? I don’t think I have ever seen Lagos this cold or dusty in all my years of living here. Anyway, we have our first email for 2015…yayyyy!! this time it is from Simi, a first time commenter via email..


Dear Miss Gidi

Am I allowed to still say happy New Year? Happy New Year and Happy anniversary to the blog!

My name is Simi and I am an avid fan of the blog however I have never commented on any of the posts so consider this my first comment via email…hahaha.

I’m having a bit of a challenge and was wondering if you and the readers could help me out with an objective ‘view’ on this matter. I have been dating my current boyfriend for about 6 months now and over the holidays he took me to see his parents for the first time. At first I was a bit nervous about it because I had heard so much about how strict his parents were (they are also Deeper Life members) and I happen to be a free-spirited person which my boyfriend says is what attracts him to me despite our differences.  

My meeting with them was okay, it was the usual really, his father was very friendly while his mother was a bit reserved. I assumed this is usual for mothers when meeting their son’s girlfriends because this is not the first time I have met the parents of the guys I have dated. 

After meeting his parents, things began to change. My boyfriend is no longer as caring as he used to be and he is always looking for a fault; recently we had an argument because I said I did not want to go to his church with him, which has never been an issue between us.  I’ve tried asking him what was wrong but he avoided that conversation. When I asked him what his parents thought about me, he said his father liked me but his mother needed a bit more time, I’m not sure what that means but I am guessing she didn’t like me as much.

I’ve considered calling her to at least build a friendship with her, maybe that would help make things better in my relationship because even though my boyfriend says there is nothing wrong, I believe there is something he is hiding from me that is the outcome of our trip to his parents.

What do you suggest I do?




You know the routine right? Okay you don’t? Well use the comment box below to let Simi know what you think. Do you think the current situation in her relationship has been influenced by her meeting the parents? If yes, then what should she do?

If you want to reach out to me or share your own story on the blog, you can send an email to or follow SingleinGidi on Facebook, twitter and instagram 



“New Year , New Me!”
“Fit Fam 2015!”
“Reborn Gym Rat”

How many of you joined me to have these as part of your New year’s resolutions?  Now, how many of you know as I do that all those resolutions are wind and air? For this life??!! Babe must chop up and jollificate!!!

Hahaha. Happy New Year to you!!

I started my year at the Lagos Countdown… Shege!! See show for Africa, I can’t even shout. Only thing that is paining me is that I had absolutely no idea that Johnnie walker had grand plans for New year’s eve as well. Johnnie walked the Ikoyi bridge and going by the video that flooded Instagram, it was quite the sight!

Anywayyyy and anyhoo, the year isn’t waiting in sympathy and to be honest, my tummy and my legs aren’t patient either. So they took me to Elias. Some of you go think say na Bobo I dey talk. Me sef wish somehow say na fine Bobo with better money, but it’s a close second: a restaurant! You already know I like my belly.
And as the nwa afor igbo wey I be, I crave native foods every now and again.

Elias is the perfect blend of native and continental. I must be honest, I go there for their soups! On this beautiful afternoon after work, I literally ran to Elias to grab some ready-made “just-like-home cooking” deliciousness. I ordered and in 15 minutes, I had a steaming hot bowl of soup with stockfish and well pounded yam to ease the pain.

I am a foodie and I love cooking, but a lot of times I like to sample what the competition out there has to offer. I fit decide to open restaurant one day after all. Elias does it for me when it comes to traditional meals. I’d recommend them every day: eager-to-please staff, lovely decor, nice music, ah-mazing food… What’s not to love?

As we go on our waka binge this 2015, let’s remember to keep it classy, keep it turnt, keep it coming and keep it the Gidi way..

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Elias is located on Idejo street, off Adeola odeku, VI.

Fairy dust and unicorn kisses,

Mizz Wakadugbe


Bobo, where have you been? I’ve been trying to reach you.

One sure way of getting my guard up was to start a conversation with a question.

Happy New Year to you too. I replied, trying to figure out what Rolayo’s message might mean. We hadn’t spoken since my break up with Keme a month ago.

Abi belle don enter?’ I wondered. ‘E nor go funny o.’ I could feel my trepidation.

Sorry, happy new year jare. Forgive my manners. Where have you been?

Any better? I asked, not relaxing. I didn’t want to get blind-sided by whatever news she had.

Depends on where you are and if you’re interested in what I have to say.

Go ahead. My phone keyboard clicked as I typed to keep up with the permutations my brain was doing.

What I want to tell you is very hush-hush. Please I don’t want it getting out o, because it’s still work in the pipeline.

My stomach knotted. Cloak and dagger was not my thing.

You know you can trust me to keep my mouth shut. Why else would you seek me out?

Okay. So, my HoD wants to set up a small unit and wants me to head it. It’s still Customer Service, but a parallel unit to service certain clients. Will you be interested in working with me?

I had a series of smart remarks I could have made about working under her and servicing clients, but I held my tongue.

CS is kuku something I like. Working with you should be fun. Can I take some days to think about it though?

Okay, she replied. Sometime next week?


Take care.


I was still contemplating what the job might be, and what it might mean for me when someone banged on my door.

‘Who is it?’ I called out.

‘It’s me,’ my sixteen-year-old nephew’s gruff voice answered.

‘I’m coming.’ I groaned as I got off the ground where I had been lying.

Since the holidays, my siblings’ kids have been staying at mine. I like to think it’s because I’m the favourite uncle, though some might argue that it’s because they can do as they please at mine.

Whatever. They sha came and stayed at mine which is more than can be said for siblings.

We were all sprawled, some on the floor, some in the chairs, watching Arrow off my PS3 when I got a message from Wale.

Dude ‘sup?

I’m aii. How ya end?

My end dey jare. A friend of mine is having this party somewhere in the GRA, wanna come?

When is this party?


I thought about it for a moment. There was really nothing I was doing at home.

Okay, what time?

She said any time from 5pm.

I checked my watch, it was already 4pm.

Why didn’t you say she was a she? Shey her friends will come? I made my way to the bathroom.

You’re such a man whore. You don hear ‘she’ now, your body wake up.

Ehen nau. Before nko? I asked.

Thirty minutes later, I was dressed and out of the house. The plan was to meet up at Wale’s and then go together since he knew the celebrant and I didn’t. I parked my car at his, then rode with him first to Goodies to pick up a few drinks since it was a Bring your own Bottle type party.

The venue was in a part of the GRA we were not familiar with, but after taking two wrong turns, we decided to try Google maps.

We walked in through the gate and someone directed us to the back of the house. Wale and I walked along a cobbled path and ducked to avoid a low hanging arch, then we turned a corner and my eyes fell on the spread before me: drinks, small chops, an actual swimming pool with water and girls. Plenty girls clad in bum shorts and shirts, loose-fitting gowns, tank tops and tights, bikini tops and ultra mini bum shorts.

Wale and I exchanged a look.

Now, this is how you want to start a new year.’


He proposed! I was not expecting it, OMG! I said Yes…arrghhhhh!!!!!



#justkidding *runs away* hehehehe

I can just see some of y’all running to the blog like yepa! Miss Gidi is off the market o, what will happen to the blog? Praise the Lord, hallelujah, it will now be Married in Gidi…emm no o my people, I am still single but you can keep praying sha, there are 12 months and exactly 52 Saturdays in 2015…e fit bi me o…but on to today’s gist

I’ve often wondered why newly engaged women are always ‘surprised’ when they get proposed to; let’s be honest, if you have been with someone for a while then you both must have talked about marriage at some point. So today my question is for every married and engaged woman out there,

Be honest, were you actually surprised that you got proposed to? or were you surprised at the ‘proposal’ itself?

Source: Confetti

A friend of mine once said that I was the type of girl who would not be surprised when I get proposed to, and my response was “umm why should I be surprised, shouldn’t I have talked about marriage with the ‘said’ person?” which then lead to a discussion on proposals and the cliché ‘Oh my God’ and screaming moment that every bride says they had.

Everyday I read proposal stories (not because I look for them but because they somehow end up on my timeline) and the brides always say how ‘surprised’ they were and how they were not ‘expecting’ it so I wonder, what were you expecting? a breakup? I mean unless he proposed the day after you met him, how are you actually surprised that you got proposed to?

I have had a few friends who were genuinely surprised, because there was a break up before the proposal so they thought the relationship was over when it actually wasn’t but for those who didn’t have to go through that drama, what was the ‘surprise’ of getting engaged?

On another note, Happy New Year…it’s good to have Lagos back as all the IJGBs are going back to their ‘homes’ and the Lagosians are returning from Dubai…for my people who got something from me the last time, please send an email to so we can arrange how the gift will be delivered.


Miss Gidi

Side note – this post was initially posted on one of my other blogs…so if you have seen this before then you know who I am 

SIG in 2014

Exactly a year ago, I registered the blog Single In Gidi and had my first post on the 1st of January 2014. It started out as a blog to rant about the humour of being single in a chaotic city like Lagos but gradually grew into a community of single Nigerians within Lagos and abroad.

So as it is New Year’s and Birthday Eve, I would like to say a big thank you to everyone that has made SIG a success in 2014.

Besides, Facebook and twitter, I would like to thank Berry Dakara, Sims and Thelmathinks for being the top referrers this year 🙂

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Blogs are more fun with comments so I would like to thank my top 4 commenters …(well we can’t really thank Bobo Nkiti  because he also writes for SIG- check his journey here).. And as part of my appreciation, each of the top 4 commenters will be getting jewellery from LLKRAFTS

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I would also like to thank Bobo Nkiti and Miss Wakadugbe for joining SIG in its first year and if you are interested in joining the team then send an email to and we can talk 🙂


And finally I would like to thank everyone that stopped by the blog, 122 countries is no joke so even if you never commented, here’s a huge virtual huuggggggggg

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On that note, cheers to a fab 2014 and see you in 2015, I’m so excited with the things the SIG team has in store for 2015 but you would have to wait to find out  (and maybe 2015 will finally be my year)



‘How can I make my stupidity up to you?’ I asked Zandile when I saw her in the hotel lobby two days later.

‘Mr. Nkiti it was nothing,’ she said. ‘I behaved most ‘unprofessionally’. I should be the one offering to make it up to you, but even that sounds inappropriate to my ears.’

‘When do you knock off?’ I asked.

‘About 6pm.’

‘Wanna go out for a drink then?’

‘A drink? Maybe.’

‘I’ll check back around 6 then,’ I smiled.

‘No don’t,’ she said quickly. I’ll call your room.’ She smiled her dimpled smile and exposed pointy canines.

I walked on clouds for the rest of the day, everything soft and cushy. And slow. I must have checked the time fifteen hundred times before finally seeing the minute hand crawl hesitantly to point the hour.

‘Any minute now,’ I thought. My stomach was queasy, my heartbeat irregular. There was a whirring sound, and then a click.


I tucked my shirt into my jeans, brushed down the front with my palms and looked in the mirror.

I pulled the shirt tail out and rolled the sleeves, one eye on the phone.


I sat on the bed. Got up and paced the room. Walked into the toilet, zipper undone and standing over the bowl but nothing came out. I hurried back to the room – I was there alone, the others had gone out without me. The only sounds were from the central air-conditioning system and the tick-tick of the desk clock.


I sat back on the bed, a heaviness coming to rest in my stomach. I kicked off my sneakers and crawled under the duvet. I reached for the phone.

What number do I call? Should I ask for her by name? Will that get her in trouble? If she knew she didn’t want to go out for drinks why post me nau?

The shrill ringing of the phone woke me up. I knocked the phone over, then pulled up the receiver.


‘Sorry I got held up. Done now. Meet me up at Village Walk. You know Village Walk, right?’

I was instantly awake and rolling out of bed.

‘See you in 5 minutes.’

It was dark outside the window. How long did I sleep for? When did I fall asleep? I looked at the clock: 9:23.


Drinks led to dinner, and dinner led to a walk around Sandton Mall. We talked about random stuff, laughed at a lot of inconsequential things, and generally had fun.

At the maxi rank I gave Zandile a briefed hug, feeling her warmth through the fabric of both our clothes. I allowed the warmth envelope me and stay with me all the way to the hotel.

I played the evening back in my mind and could not remember exactly how it went, just how it felt. It felt good.

The next evening we went out for drinks again. Just drinks this time. The rest of the Knights of Camelot teased me about my “SA chic” to no end.

On the third evening, coming in from lunch, I ran into Tshepi in the hotel lobby.

‘Hello you, how have you been?’ I asked her, excited to see her again after so long.

‘I’m okay.’ Her response was cool and she cast a furtive look around.

I didn’t want to get her into trouble with her bosses so I let her go.

When I met up with Zandile that evening, I mentioned running into Tshepi, and the temperature in the bar dropped a few degrees.

Now, I had to get to the end of this mystery as it hit me that Tshepi’s behaviour earlier was probably not work related, but me related.


‘Why didn’t you tell me you were dating Zandile?’


‘Zandile. She says you’re her man.’

For a moment I forgot we were at the movies and drew attention to us with my laughter.

After waylaying her and threatening to keep calling the front desk asking to speak with her, I got Tshepi to agree to go see a movie with me.

The cinema was less than half full so we were able to take the seats at the back – away from the rest of the movie goers.

‘Zandile and I have only gone out for dinner and a few drinks.’

‘Well, that’s not what she’s suggesting.’ Tshepi said. ‘At the hotel’s Christmas event she called me to a corner and asked if I knew Bobo. I asked who that was and she said the Nigerian. I told her I know a group of Nigerian guys were staying with us at the hotel, but I didn’t care about them enough to know their names individually. A lie, of course. But I could not tell her I knew you.

‘Well, she said “I know you know him, but whatever. Just stay clear of him, he’s my man.”‘

‘When was this party of yours?’

She told me. It was the night we first had dinner. So, even before we had dinner, Zandile had already branded me “her man”, and she didn’t come back to the hotel to drop? Na wa o.

For the rest of my stay I avoided Zandile and Tshepi altogether. No one has time for drama like that.

On our last night, the guys decided to go out hard on the town. Wale called up a friend who came to get us. We started the evening at NewCafe taking shots and drinking flaming sambucas, then we went to Capitol where we learnt that it was Gays’ night in the club. We walked down the road to Moloko, another nightclub, and partied till 3am.

As we left Moloko, inebriated and exhilarated, a bit of shoving started between Scar and Phantom. Scar crashed into me, driving me onto the road where a car missed me by whiskers.

The screech of tires and the realisation that I almost just died sobered ed me up a little.

The car door was thrown open and out stepped the driver. She was shouting cusses at us and raised her index finger at me.

How dare she? She who was driving down the road like a crazed human being, well above the speed limit? Indignation coursed through me.

‘Keep it moving bra,’ Wale’s friend held me by the elbow, ‘she might be packing.’

‘Parking?’ I looked at him, residual alcohol fumes getting in the way of comprehension.

‘Packing bra, like heat.’ he held his index and middle fingers out together in a horizontal line.

‘You mean…’ all the alcohol was gone from my system and a cold breeze blew on the back of my neck.

‘Guy make we dey go o.’ Someone said and I didn’t even argue.


‘Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Murtala Mohammed International airport, Lagos.’

I heard the flight attendant’s announcement and I smiled. Clearly I didn’t have to travel outside of Nigeria to confirm that there are a lot of crazy women. The difference was, I could speak the language of the Nigerian crazies.

So it was two days to Christmas and I was still single, but if the passengers I saw checking in for this flight was anything to go by, it was only a matter of time before I snagged me an IJGB. Come to think of it, I just got back too.