Get Hitched or Die trying...

Almost everyone believes one of the greatest achievements in life is marriage. Culture, society, religion and to some extent the media, have led us to believe that one of our greatest callings in life is to get hitched. So it shouldn't come as a surprise that millions of people walk down the aisle each year. As a Nigerian, I'm deeply envious of the lucky people who have capitalised on the wedding industry. In hindsight, I can see very clearly that all that time I spent trying to reason with my Econometrics lecturer in uni was a waste of time. If only I had the gift of foresight, I would have been business savvy enough to sign up for bakery classes, chocolate fountain classes or even event planning classes, just to enjoy all the perks that come with rendering your services to the average (depends what circle you have in mind) Lagos wedding, such as all expense paid business trips to Lagos every other weekend, fat cheques and almost A-list celebrity status. As an outsider, I know not what the wedding craze is about, but all I know and see (thanks to Facebook), is that everyone is getting hitched!

Should I be freaking out? Am I doing something wrong? Do I lie to myself that I am merely waiting for the right trooper to come along? Should I hoe it up to lock him down? Should I broaden my horizons and look outside my tribe/religion/race? I believe a lot of us ladies have asked ourselves one or two, if not all these questions. But we need to start asking >>>> Is this too good to be true? Is he just trying to get hitched? And why???

So today's post was inspired by a group chat my friends and I had via BB messenger the other day. According to her sources (male relatives), the latest fad for single men in Lagos is to get hitched. To this, the rest of us literally ran off to buy our single tickets to Lagos lol. But there had to be a big fat BUT. And this was the catch, these men were prepared to do whatever to get down that aisle and say I do. So long as their bride to be's daddy was PAID! She went on to tell us how she knew of one dude in particular, whose marriage has had people betting on a five month expiration date!! Why? Well, his wife to be has a reputation for dating governors and other big daddies but he's just a "trying to make it" 29 year old guy, who just liked what he saw a little too much and went around borrowing huge sums of money to prove he could sustain the kind of life she is used to. So what happens after the great faaji (party)...oops I mean wedding?? Will he continue borrowing to keep up with the Joneses?? I mean I don't quite get it lol. It is not a funny matter but you can't help but chuckle at the mere stupidity and short-sightedness of it all. To further prove this point, an old classmate from secondary school (Atlantic Hall), told us today he would gladly marry an older rich woman, preferably a white one, so he could have all the pampering he needs.

When women asked for equal rights, I'm quite certain this wasn't what we had in mind. Being of a rather traditional school of thought, I firmly believe the man is the rightful breadwinner of the home. Besides I wasn't raised to think otherwise as my mum merely worked for leisure. Granted times have evolved and life is QUITE expensive for the up and coming parents to be but do we really wanna have a baby by him, be a millionaire or have a baby with him, make him a millionaire? Have we all become so engrossed with the material things we can get from marriage that we leave all the other stuff till we have just five months left then its divorce lawyers and profile changes on facebook etc. I am not saying, go all CIA on your potential partner but ladies be careful! The same way a lot of girls "mistakenly" fall preggers to lock him down, a lot of brothers are selectively targeting their future wives and doing whatever it takes to make you say "I do".

Short Story 1: Sound of the Underground

I started writing a bit early in my life and found inspiration from books like Enid Blyton's Famous Five/Malory Towers/St Clare's, The Baby-sitters Club, Sweet Valley Twins/High/University and some local books like Eze Goes to School. I enjoyed fiction and loved the photographic illustrations that came with these books. So each time I wrote, I drew (more like doodle) alongside my ALWAYS fictional story and just had a strong affinity for make-believe. However as time went on and authors like Chimamanda Adichie, Terry McMillan, Segun Afolabi and Sefi Atta to name a few, came into my life, I wholly believed in the power of words and the beauty and freedom that comes with descriptive writing. Art comes in different forms, some are great with paintbrushes, others great with musical instruments and some are just great with words. Last summer, Chimamanda's The Thing Around Your Neck pushed me to try a whole new writing style and it was on a quiet day in the office, I found myself scribbling the below short story.....

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The scratching sound of nails on perhaps dandruff coated scalp, kept distracting my concentration. I was already somewhat rattled by the fact I merely hopped on board my daily 5:42am Northbound Bakerloo line train, but now my breathing was much more controlled, although I felt the familiar wetness of sweat as it trickled down the side of my face.


I looked up from my daily journal and for a moment wished I had actually missed my train. My fellow early morning commuter had no business polluting the air and destroying my early morning tube rituals .....infact, the more his presence irked me, the more I wanted to know his story. But today was different. With my nightmare of a dream still weighing heavy on my mind, I found it incredibly easy to feign ignorance at his heavy wheezing, torn clothes generously littered with several weeks old dandruff and even more infuriating, his noisy scratching!


My concentration was so low I actually heard the automated announcement "The next station is Warwick Avenue." It had only been a minute or less and I felt like "Smelly" and I had been stuck in this cabin for eternity. At this point, I obviously contemplated switching cabins, but a quick glance at the empty station reassured my fears that the doors would probably shut before I was able to get onto another less disturbing cabin.



As we galloped through the dark tunnel, I tried to refocus my attention on my reading but every word kept reminding me of my too vivid nightmare, "SCREAM", "STARTLED", "BLOOD"... By this point, I gave up trying, shut my journal and reverted to my ipod. During this switch, my eye caught Smelly's eyes and he smiled....a welcoming smile. His message was so clear I did a double take and looked around the cabin to ensure he was indeed smiling at someone else.



As much as I hated to admit this to myself, his smile brought a familiar warmth to my heart. The feeling I got each time I felt a story at my finger tips. I felt my hairs stand but I knew this morning was different. Everything about it was; so today I chose to ignore my warmth. Instead I put my best fake smile forward and promptly planted my earphones in my ears, looking straight ahead for the remaining five minutes of my journey.



At Baker Street, I alighted for my interchange and dared to look back as the Bakerloo line train forged ahead. And at that moment, I saw him wave, but it was familiar. A wave that said see you soon. As disturbing as this short-lived encounter was, I looked forward to another opportunity to ride with Smelly again. His familiarity intrigued me, his wave left me nostalgic and his I'll see you soon message probed the very core of my ignorance. This time I let the warm feeling simmer as I strolled to the Southbound Jubilee platform with hopes for a better day ahead.
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Scribble BUZZ!!!

It's a relatively humid late Saturday night (or early Sunday morning) in London and for once in a long time, I'm alone. It feels strangely sad but I am somehow grateful to have the down time. Call me stingy or boring but sometimes a girl just needs to do her thing and now I've got my blog, I can do what I enjoy best......writing :-). Speaking of which, I was quite overwhelmed by the number of people who came up to me at a surprise birthday party earlier today, saying they had read a few of my blog posts and couldn't wait to see what more I had up my sleeves. Excited much! But no pressure huh! Truth is I have been scribbling away mentally since my last post but I've probably been too busy having way too much fun to settle down to some proper writing. Well remixing Black Eyed Peas' I gotta Feeling, I'm singing out loud "Tonight's the night, let's write it up!"
Now for that fresh pot of Twinnings Camomile tea, I find I write best when I'm ummm calm :-)

Ridin' Solo.....

As I try to sound out Jason Derulo's latest single in my busy mind, I can't help but see the link between his lyrics and the last SATC episode I watched (Season 2 Episode 4: They shoot single people, don't they?). Downing my frosty Magners Irish pear cider and munching away at my steamy butter popcorn (yum!), I took a mental snapshot of Carrie's laptop screen as she typed the words "Is it better to fake it than be alone?"
I realised Jason's top hit single just might be one of the greatest "single" anthems of our time! Having had the media and everything else tell us that going solo just might be the worst thing ever, I find a lot of us have resorted to selling ourselves short to avoid the alone stigma. In that very episode, interviews conducted on the streets of NY showed that even men faked it, to avoid being alone. I will draw on a few illustrations to prove my point:
Case 1: Your man loves them model like and you are a healthy size 12. Few weeks into your relationship, you find yourself replacing your old wardrobe with size 8 clothes. The transition could have been subconscious granted but you just faked it to avoid getting dumped. VERDICT: Guilty!
Case 2: You believe diamonds are a girl's best friend so to certify your chances of bagging the hot stuff you've been trying to woo since that lucky encounter you had at your mate's wedding, you take a trip to Tiffany and splurge your entire life savings on what the salesman assures you is their best seller. Guess what? You faked it to avoid being alone. VERDICT: Guilty!

The list is endless and some may call it compromising in the name of love or whatever else. Simply put, you are faking it or just living in a state of comfortable discomfort (i.e. putting up with what you've got because you had rather have it than nothing at all). To that Jason says "Now I'm feeling how I should. Never knew single could feel this good". And I think he could be on to something. Granted, dinner for one, cinema trips alone, solo holidays, single bar hopping and so many other activities alone could be a tad drab BUT it depends on your approach. Some of the best moments in my life have been had in my single times, with my family and friends. I am not trying to start a war between Solos and Duos like most (scorned) single people do. I don't go about yelling "GET A ROOM!" at every unnecessary PDA (public display of affection) I come across in London and trust me there are far too many even for a non-single gal! All I'm saying is riding solo could be fun too and it's time we went out and showed the duos just what they are missing! :p
On that note, I'm off to devour July's issue of Pride magazine, coincidentally, the words "WHY IT'S GOOD TO BE SAS - Successful, Attractive but Single" have been boldly printed across the bottom of the cover. Told you solo was fabulous! xoxo

The Beauty of the Brazillian

Nope I don't mean the wax (ouch!), I am talking about the latest craze for women from all walks of life (yes ALL women get a little help from their Brazilian sisters lol). This post was inspired by a chat I had earlier today with a male friend. Like most other guys, he hates weaves (a.k.a any synthetic or human hair piece that usually gives women sass holla!). We didn't quite get down to the bottom of his hatred but watching Chris Rock's "Good Hair" earlier this year I sort of got why black guys in particular hate our obsession>> 1. They claim it smells. 2. It stifles intimacy 3. It is misleading 4. It's high maintenance and 5. It is just wrong! (okaaaay so much for appreciation). So out of a need to get a different point of view, I invited my girlfriends round for a viewing, over seafood pasta and pesto and martinis. As the credits rolled in, our heated debate promptly commenced and we tackled all of the above points as best we could.

1. The Brazilian/Malaysian/Peruvian/Indian (a.k.a. trophy weave)doesn't smell if you wear it right. You treat it like your own hair (hell after paying £250 and above, you treat it better than your own hair).

2. Okay we had to agree with this one lol. After you've spent your entire Saturday in your local afro salon getting your hair did just right by your fave hairdresser (whom you booked a 12pm appointment with but waited 5 extra hours to see), the last thing you need is your man fiddling with your locks. As Nia Long said in the movie, she ain't getting her hair wet for no man and if she ever does take a shower with her man, then he's her n*gga for real. Lol, a tad shallow but we all agreed she kinda had a point. I've always thought vanity wasn't for the weak at heart. So step aside intimacy, hello HOTNESS. Worse still, pre Brazilian times, the Yaki weave had a mean way of getting so tangled even a rake had trouble running through your hair, let alone a man's fingers hahaha. Not sexy!

3. Well misleading is what the media has led us to believe men want. After all you don't see anyone on TV rocking their own hair...Beyonce, Rihanna (hard to believe but her clump of hair over the eye still gets some help), Nicki Minaj, Cheryl Cole, Victoria Beckham, Katie Price, Lady Gaga, you name her, she got it! I once dated a guy who would oooh and aaah at every single weave wearing beauty on telly but wouldn't let me rock a weave??? Double standards or delusional. Point is weaves just make life that much easier and fun! Our natural hair is not as versatile, more fragile and definitely not as endowed length wise (for most).
4. High maintenance for guys?? How?? I guess the fact we spend ages in the salon and practically plan our social calendars around our hair which in effect affects our relationships, makes it high maintenance. But as Beyonce says in the L'Oreal ad...We are worth it! So suck it up :-)
5. We all laughed out loud at this last point. Cutting your hair a la Cassie and not being half as beautiful as her is wrong but supporting your locks with a weave is not right or wrong, it is a personal thing. Chris Rock's documentary went as far as showing us that indeed 99% of the human hair came from sacrifices in India, this irked me a little bit but I just told my girls, pray over it and you'll be fine lol.
In summary, I never converted my male friend to a weave lover but he did agree with some of my points and went off to watch Good Hair. Where's my commission Chris? *raises eyebrow*

What's love got to do with it?

Today I'm writing from my local Starbucks, I felt I needed a change of scenery to get closer to my subject matter and besides, it's another sunny day in London, a reason to get relatively dressed up, don a pair of stunnas and sip on a couple of frappucions while I "people watch" and umm get inspiration for a blog post. Amazing how Starbucks manages to stay equally busy in the summer as in the winter, somehow coffee shops in Lagos just always seem dead. Anyways I digress, so whilst trying to work out if the couple next to me were an actual item or perhaps father and daughter. A rather intimate kiss promptly reaffirmed my fears. They were indeed "kicking it" as some people would say. I once again pondered the appeal of the pensioner with a beach house in the Caribbeans, a villa in Spain, a luxury yacht in Cannes and a penthouse in Manhattan, oh and of course a boathouse in Chelsea.....sweet! The rise of infidelity means a lot of us women are really not looking for love anymore. It seems to be all about security, financial security that is. Perhaps the credit crunch didn't only play a major role in reshaping the global economy and the financial world but also the way we go about the business of dating. As I sat there watching Mr Smith (a.k.a the wealthy pensioner) and Candy (the 20 something year old eye candy) get a little too personal for my daytime Starbucks "people watching", I got a message from one of my best friends saying " My ideal life would be to marry a mega rich man, the type where all I'm expected to do is shop, go on all expense paid holidays with him and the girls (guess she figured we had all be unmarried eeeks!), dine at the best restaurants, attend high-brow social events and represent him at bourgeois networking events. Then have our babies when I'm 35 and 38". I chuckled at this message and replied saying I could probably do without the man but have all of the above. Scary huh, but really as Tina Turner famously sang, what's love got to do with it? When from all the stories I've heard and even personal experiences, love just isn't enough. Last Friday, my friends and I stumbled into the Sanderson Hotel's Long Bar and had an awesome time as usual. Maybe the fact we kept getting approached by your typical wealthy pensioner made us feel a bit closer to our respective dreams and the odd sight of Raef Bjayou (The Apprentice contestant) and his obviously drunk girlfriend who told me my dress was "gaw-jus dah-ling" made it a night to remember. But the bevy of beauties from all races, being entertained by what seems to be the latest female accessory "Mr Smith" just made me ask all over again...What's love got to do with it?". As the original Mr Smith and Candy continued to chew their faces off, my frappucino lost it's appeal and I decided to wander into Oxford Street for a bit of "hottie spotting" a.k.a. fit men aged 25-35 nice! An accomplished man will always have his appeal and with time you could get to love him, but I do believe in the possibilities of love at first sight.

Walking Out!

The "fast food age" as the media sometimes describes it, or the "I want it now age", means we are constantly looking for the next best thing and the most efficient way to get it. Hello Skechers Shape Ups! Relatively unflattering at first sight but surprisingly comfortable and posture restoring at first wear, these babies have become my summer can't do without item. After rocking the hell out of my fit flops (equally productive but limited by potentially rainy weather) last summer on my numerous walks around Maida Vale, Warwick Avenue, St John's Wood and Belsize Park discussing anything from guys to fashion, food, travel, life and even outer space (random right) with my resourceful sisters, I discovered some spectacular changes in my physique (real talk!). So this summer I decided to go up one step (literally)and get the highly raved about Skechers Shape Ups, purely because I hate gyms or the idea of actually working out. I much prefer dancing, being restless (in the hope it results in something getting done...never works), leisure strolls in beautiful places and sleeping (apparently burns calories lol). All in all I found a way to make this work for me (or so I think, considering a male friend told me to NEVER wear 'em again) and so far so good. They are available in Skechers stores nationwide from about £79.99 but if you plan to be across the Atlantic some time this summer, I suggest you do like me and get 'em whilst you are out there (about $110 after tax). Then you REALLY feel like you are getting your money's worth! Got mine back in May on a trip to DC and lets just say I've since had a spring in my step ;-)

Lost & Found

The great thing about London is that it is full of hidden gems. In my attempt to arrive on time to my weekly class in Holborn, I did what every prudent Londoner does, I checked my estimated journey time on www.tfl.gov.uk and made room for the possibilities of delayed trains, getting lost and of course a corner shop detour. Despite this I got to Holborn, arrived at Gate Street as directed and then got lost in that little alleyway (don't ask!). Anyway in my merry-go-round, I asked equally clueless passers-by for directions and eventually found my designated location. Unfortunately I was a day early for class (duh!). On my walk-of-shame out of Gate Street (can't help but stress how confusing this place is and no my Geography skills aren't weak), I spotted what in my mind could be a hidden gem "Bar Polski". A bit of Poland in the heart of London. Being an avid foodie, my gaze narrowed to the enticing pictures of dishes cleverly displayed on their outter walls for all to see and better yet affordable prices! I immediately made a mental note to drag my ever willing (thank God!) friends, to my latest London find. Off to embark on a dreamy summer evening stroll in Marylebone xxx

#Allow me to introduce myself. . . . . . .

Thought I would never do this but "never say never" so here goes.....I am a vicious closet critic and I love it! Perhaps I'm a coward or some would say I have a good eye or sense of what's HOT and what's NOT.......I guess it's my turn in the hot seat and I hope y'all make it a steamy one lol (no pun intended).

Okay by popular demand (stressing the terms popular and demand), I am giving this blogging fad a try and God help me should I live to regret it lol. You should know by now that I'm a free spirited individual, almost a recluse hippie (if that's remotely possible) but I swear by the motto live and let live and at such rarely plan the fabulosities that tend to occur in my coveted life :-).....hence the name of my blog :D.

Now now I do realise putting my every day experiences on the map will be a bit too much exposure and I have used the words closet and recluse so you know I DON'T want you knowing too much about the real me, that would just mess things up for all of us lol. So I will of course include dashings of disguised descriptions to save face BUT 99.9% of the content of this blog will be real talk so fret not o ye gossip folk of little faith.

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Cue music: "If you are what you say you are, a SUPERSTAR, then have no fear...the camera's HERE and the microphones and they wanna KNOW....oh oh ohhh" :-) !!!

Interviewer: Welcome to the hot seat SD, so thrilled you could honour us with a quickie today.....

Name: ScribbleDiva

Age: Never ask a lady this....it is rude. If you must know, Forever 21!

Zodiac Sign: Don't be coy, besides I don't believe in astrology

Status: Depends who's asking lol

Employment / Education: I am a rather accomplished young lady, that's all you need to know :-)

Religion: It's a way of life :-)

Hobbies: Okay lets see....reading, writing, DANCING, TALKING, EATING, SHOPPING, TRAVELLING, SINGING in no particular order :-) there's more, but I'm bored, NEXT!

Fave quotes: I really can't do this, I have a huuuuuge crush on words! I discover a favourite quote everyday so lets keep it moving...

Best Holiday destination: Hmmmm, I can't say but I like holidays that offer lots of pampering, sunshine, beautiful scenery (yes includes the people too lol), good food and of course INSANE night life!

Best memory: My mental compilation of my childhood years :-) growing up was such a rush! I really had the Enid Blyton childhood (at least my over active imagination made me believe so lol)

One talent you wish you were good at: SINGING....I envy the gits that have been blessed with the gift of harmony n melody!

Dream job: Tricky tricky, I would say one where I can talk and talk all day whilst looking DDG (drop dead gorge) and changing people's lives for the better :-)

Define yourself in one word: Fierce!
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The Great Escape

So I recently gave up the City a.k.a Investment Banking, not because it has lost its allure over the last few years (who am I kidding??? lol), a better opportunity simply presented itself. Chatting with a friend earlier today who just missed a great opportunity, I said to her "If one window closes, a door must open and last I checked, doors are much easier to manoeuvre". She absolutely loved it!
Based on this I was inspired to write an impromptu post. Watching another (BC i.e. before crunch) episode of SATC last night, I couldn't help but notice the numerous references to investment bankers as the cream of the crop in the world of dating (for men that is!). Carrie's voice over had a way of making us sound like mini gods and perhaps at the time that was the case. I came into the game a little too late and only managed a glimpse of the glory years....first class business trips, bodyguards to boot (well if you are fortunate to bag a Nigerian client), 5* hotels, on the ground chauffeurs, AMEX corporate cards which could be easily expensed (for even private splurges shhhh), designer shopping sprees (a sport in itself), weekend holidays and spa trips in exotic locations, basically EVERYTHING you needed but never had the time to enjoy. The hours were long and endless. You basically made plans to cancel plans and a blackberry sorry I mean crackberry meant work not leisure (hard to believe but then again, the blackberry messenger application came later in time). All in all it was a great life but I needed a great escape from it all. My adventure in the City (technically Canary Wharf) started in 2005 as a summer intern in a top tier investment bank. At the time, success was my drug and my only motivation but going full-time I soon found I needed other validations......the B word being one of 'em. It wasn't enough to just earn a salary, i-bankers live and thrive for their bonuses. The B was the reason a large fraction of us gave up sleep, relationships, food, LIFE. Clients become friends and potential lovers (after a project is concluded), colleagues become family, desks become your home away from home and the gym becomes your spa getaway but it all makes sense when you see your "number" as we fondly call it. Partying is a GREAT part of it all, guzzling endless amounts of beer, red wine, champagne (anything but Moet) while trying to maintain balance on your gravity defying Christian Louboutin pigalle courts. I might miss it all eventually but for now I'm eagerly looking forward to swapping my power suits for t-shirts and skinnies, my courts for pumps, my IT-bags for a rucksack, my eight PC monitors for my laptop, my Starbucks lattes for Twinnings English Breakfast Tea, my shopping sprees for walks in the park and my voicemail for actual conversations with family & friends........so far I can't say it doesn't sound like a healthier life!

Sleepless In the City

Since my last visit to the big apple, I've become even more convinced that London is the best city in the world. The only advantage NYorkers seem to have over us (in my shallow little mind) is the show "Sex and the City". Obsession is a far cry from what I seem to be suffering from, after dragging my friend along on the 3.5hrs long official tour while in NY. I've since become frighteningly glued to my laptop, watching back to back episodes on www.sidereel.com. Carrie Bradshaw's voice over has also become a major feature in my internal daily monologues. I believe my quest to reaffirm my sanity by scribbling these sessions down, has been the greatest driving force behind the birth of my blog (a feat I vowed to never embark on after my dabbling back in the early 2000s).
So tonight in not so grey cold London, the temperature is about 15 degrees Celsius and my 10.5 tog duvet appears to have formed a messy puddle on my bedroom floor, while my windows and blinds have been distorted to allow maximum amount of whatever gust of wind the cars swooshing past can muster. Yet I find myself half naked and wide awake with a dehydration inspired headache. Yes, I still think London is absolutely fah-bu-lous! New York may be the city the city that never sleeps but London is the city that lives, breathes, drinks, parties, shops, eats and whatever else. Welcome to my city, my hub, my space, my thoughts, my life and my scribblings! Now for another night of a drug (Nytol..sleeping pill) induced sleep....zzzzzzz.....zzz....zz