12 Seconds of Dozing and The Sex Scene

There are different kinds of females.
       There are females who are insecure and need the attention of men to validate their feminity . They lack assurance in themselves and cover up their insecurities with cheap talk and endless ridicule of others.
     There are females who don’t want others to have better lives than them; females who see another progressing, look for flaws and attack. They seem to intend no harm in their ranting, but deep down, their plan is to poison the mind of their listeners.
        Then there are the clingy and dependent ones. Girls who laugh nervously when with boys, who wait on their every word. Those who text their ‘guys’ once in every five minutes during the day, and call for two hours before bed. They are quite sensitive, the ones who cry oceans of tears after they are jilted.
    I am not any of these ladies mentioned above. I am the serious and ambitious type. The one who is able to give opinions to almost anything, and spends her free time reading novels.  I’m usually kind, but my studies come first – anything else comes second. I tend to have grand dreams, so I  prioritize and to some people, I might be the obnoxious type who is selfish and self-centered. I work hard, too hard perhaps, that I end up having few true friends. I keep high standards and so I tend to expect the same from other people too. I am the teenage girl’s hero, the type who is able to keep her ahead above the murky waters of dating, infatuation or even love.
      But life has surprises for everyone. On a dry harmattan morning, Cupid’s arrow nearly hit me, I nearly caught feelings, and here’s the abridged version of how it happened.
NB:  Names, characters, places and incidents may or may not be entirely the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead,  events may be entirely coincidental.
      So I’m at this meeting,  it’s an interactive session, with people giving their opinions about the subject. And as I like to do, I keep quiet, observing and analyzing every answer. Then this guy speaks, and I’m impressed because he says the kind of thing I would say. I don’t look at him while he’s talking, while everyone’s looking at him. I wait for him to finish, then I look up, and he’s looking at me. Okay. His gaze is fearless and unwavering, this guy is openly looking at me, with the hint of a smile and this isn’t The Fault in Our Stars.
      On a normal day I would be slightly enraged, going on and on in my mind about males and their inability to control their eyes, and then I would stare back. But this is no normal day, because I am not enraged and I cannot hold his gaze. In fact, I am a bit flustered. I feel like I’m in a Telemundo soap opera. After the meeting, a friend introduces him, we’re shaking hands and he says,
‘Hi, I’m Michael’
‘Hi, I’m Dupe’, I reply.
Then he says to me, ‘You have a very captivating personality. I was staring at you the whole time.’
(Its been almost half a minute, and we are still shaking hands.)
‘You have insufficient Vitamin D’, I say’.
He raises his eyebrows with amusement.
‘You have cold hands. It’s caused by insufficient Vitamin D’, I explain
‘Oh’.
‘Yeah’.
And for the next 12 seconds, we say nothing,  we’re literally gazing at each other, with a bit of wonder and amusement. And for these 12 seconds, I am not slightly flustered. I am fully flustered. I am blushing. Me, who talks sense into her friends, when they rant about how they were attracted to someone at first sight, and laughs, while asking, “How do I catch feelings?”. I was flushed. And then someone(sent by the Lord) comes and snatches me away, and the jinx is broken. (Till this day I believe there were some supernatural forces behind this occurrence).
      When I recovered, I was overwhelmed with fright and fury. It was the fright that came with experiencing something new, yet not so unfamiliar. But most of what I felt was fury. I was furious because strong, assertive and driven females do not ‘catch feelings’. I was furious because I am the girl who gives her friends speeches about how they should never be pressured by their environment into relationships, about how they should only date when they’re ready to; so I do not catch feelings.
    And so after, I was looking for something to blame for these feelings that I had ‘caught’. And I found an easy target. Sex scenes. Love scenes. Not the cute scenes from ‘Boys Before Flowers’ or ‘My Girlfriend is a Nine-Tailed Fox’. Not the watery, open-mouthed kissing scenes from ‘Destiny River’ or ‘La Patrona’ or any other Spanish movie with their improbable plots. No, I knew those weren’t real. I blamed all the regular movies with love scenes from Abduction to Divergent to Vampire Diaries to The 100. I blamed them for dropping these love vibes slowly into my subconscious. They were supposed to be wonderful action movies. They had no business opening my heart up, making me feel like there had to be some sort of love activity in my life leaving my heart vulnerable and defenseless.
     In my rage, I had a point against these movies and their unjustified scenes, but the truth remains that I saw it coming. I ignored all flashing signs and warning lights. I gave myself the permission to catch feelings for those 12 seconds. I dozed off, I lost consciousness for those 12 seconds.
Stay awake people. read more...

Women in Buses, Fire in Bellies

Hi! Welcome to my blog!
I am a storyteller. I love the charm in words, the magical worlds they have the ability to create. Since my primary schooldays, I have been identified with writing. So growing up, I was a cultured African child who loved to write stories and wanted to be a surgeon. Things changed in my Senior Secondary School years. I had a change in my perception of things. I found God and I also found a different genre of literature. Books, writings, articles on past and contemporary  events. Historical books. I began to know about the Berlin Conference, the Biafran War, Malcolm X, Camara Laye, John Wesley; and slowly a fire started in my belly. I began to understand the meaning of some movements, protests and the stories behind them. I started this blog because I am an African, Christian girl, a die-hard fan of Teen Wolf and Harvey Specter, and I still want to be able to connect to the world. So this is a lifestyle blog. I’ll be writing about life-issues; I will be writing about things that I’ve come across, people, events. I will be writing about things that haunt me, things I can’t forget, things I think that no one should keep quiet about. I will be writing about love and crushes, grief and loss, hope, fear and disappointment, the simple world and its  complex human beings.                                  
        So this blog is for people like me: people carrying stories in their bodies waiting to be released feelings that need to be expressed, words that need to be written. This blog is for females like me who want it all and are done with settling. This blog is for males that are letting go of their egos and are admitting that every human is entitled to a little vulnerability. There are a lot of issues that prick my heart, that set me on fire, issues like racism,preferential treatment, exploitation…that sort of injustice.
        Speaking of injustice , something happened to me a while ago that made me see how passionate I was about some of these issues. Injustice sets my blood on fire. Literally. I was in one of these large public transport buses sometime ago and it was filled up such that some people had to stand. Luckily for me, I got a seat beside a very young boy. So  the breeze is in my hair, I’m listening to Bastille’s Pompeii, pretending to be in the music video; you know, it’s a good day. Until I see her. Early 30s, light-skinned, with the faux enlightened look of those women higher up in the unenlightened pyramid. And she’s looking at the young boy sitting beside me, with the calculating look of a predator, of one about to do wrong and planning to make it look right.
        So this woman walks up to the young boy, raises her hand(and I’m hoping it’s to scratch some unattractive part of her body), taps him and says brusquely  in the native, “Oya, stand up for me”. This woman who wasn’t even nearly the oldest person standing. This woman who didn’t pay(since  standing in the bus is free of charge ) was ‘bouncing’ a small boy who had paid the bus fare. THE NERVE. As if on cue, Asa’s ‘Satan Be Gone’ played next on my phone. Well,well, what better sign from the universe. Amidst the boy’s puzzled look, the evasive look of other passengers, I replied,  in the native, “He cannot stand up because he paid for the seat and you didn’t. Don’t hide under the auspices of seniority to cheat a young boy. And it’s not like you plan to refund his money to him” Or something like that. Well,well,  Martin Luther Jr. would be proud. Of course I don’t know the word for ‘auspices’ or ‘refund’ in Yoruba but I made my point clear: injustice of any kind is still what it is: injustice.
        And ranting about it here has helped me re-affirm that belief. And so this blog is also to encourage people like me with fire in their bellies to give expression to it, through writing, drawing, making songs, whatever means suits you. I chose blogging because writing is the best way I express myself. And this, is my first blog post.
Thanks to Abiodun.O and Idris.S for pushing me to do this without knowing it.
P.S: I have an ‘About Me’ page too. read more...