Formerly The Drunk Archer

Hi guys, you almost definitely don’t know me anymore, and that’s absolutely fine. It’s been years and we’ve all definitely evolved some way or the other.

I started this blog in 2011 where I wrote about my daily life, experiences, loves and complaints. I am now Táétáé and will probably be doing the same thing, just under a different name or maybe I’ll add some more things(?) I don’t know, we’ll figure it out.

So here’s a little update of what yours truly has been doing in the past year and a half.

Turning 30 in November of 2020. I’d been looking forward to this since I was 26. My friend, coerced me into a shoot and I loved it all.

Taking care of myself a little more so this body of mine lasts as long as I need it to. So, hello sunscreen, exercising and multivitamins.

Opening myself to people more. No, I have not been hacked! I’m just embracing some changes in me that just feel… right.

Having sex. I had sex for the first time January of 2020. Hurt like the dickens! And though I tried and tried again and again, I’ve now accepted that I am among the percentile of women who will probably just not ever enjoy the act of sex in itself. It was just painful. The silver lining is that I didn’t let myself be cajoled into doing it when I was younger. I would have been so sooo angry 😖.

Smiling more. I’ve always thought I looked better when I had on a straight face because my face just never looks great in pictures when I smile. But then my favourite picture AND whatsapp profile picture is one where I’m smiling in. Go figure!

Wondering if there’s a balance between astrology in spirituality. I’ve been reading from some spiritual guides who embrace God, spirituality and astrology and it has been comforting to be so seen and understood especially because of some difficult circumstances I am in.

Getting entangled in something I had no business in getting into because I didn’t know myself and my limitations well enough.

Changing my personality type from ISFJ-T to ISFP-T. I didn’t even know that was possible and yet, here we are!

Allowing myself to grow into the person I think, I was always supposed to be and embracing this new personae regardless. It’s hard though. Because your fighting instincts that would normally guide your choices but now, those instincts can’t be trusted because they’re battling your new personality.

Trying to make healthier career choices, by going into the 9-5 race. It’s out of town and I love that for it though it remains a very, very challenging role.

Planning to relocate sometime this year. While my new job isn’t so far from home, it’s also not that close either. So, I plan to save up for my own place closer to work and move there. I’ve already started buying furniture pieces in bits!

Shifting my tailoring business from tailoring to purely crafts. While also been an outlet to my creative side, it also helps me supplement my income. I’m still working on building it up but I’m really proud of how well we’ve done

Watching summer camp Island, it’s my new favorite cartoon. Yes, I still LOVE cartoons.

Carrying around a lump in my breast. It was tolerable before but now, it’s like double the size of the normal breast and I’m done. This baby is getting out of me this month!

Losing weight. I’m a size and a half down, and now I remember all the clothes I gave out because of the ‘just give your small clothes away, you’ll never be that size again’ and I want to fight .

Cycling that’s how I lost weight. I joined a cycling group and we cycle about two and a half hours every weekend. I also do Intermittent fasting Currently, I’m on holiday-mode so, don’t hold me to that. 😁😁

Using sunscreen  religiously, even when I’m indoors! I barely recognise myself! But yeah, outdoor cycling has it’s challenges and burning my skin will not be one of them.

Learning how to be better for and to my friends. No one talks about how friendships can die from the stress that adulthood brings but I’m fighting back. Well, trying

Making friends everyday and not constraining myself to a particular circle of people. If you’re an introvert, you’ll get what I mean by constraining.

Struggling emotionally to fully put behind me a relationship I should have let die a LOOOOOONG time ago.

Buying a vision board to keep all my plans and dreams around me and in my sights.

Sewing for myself again, I really don’t know how long this will last or how much time I can spare for it when work resumes but, you know what, I’m just going to go with the flow, do it when I can and enjoy it while I’m at it . I Made this sweet number for New year’s day and tell me I don’t look like a smooth criminal 😁

Happy new year, everyone! Have a wonderful year ahead. ♥️


It’s been a while I’ve been broke. It’s so weird.

I’ve spent the majority of my life managing myself. I LOVE managing; transport fare, lower cost. I’m there like Nigerian men antagonised by the threat of feminism.

It’s weird been able to spend how I want. I mean not like I’m a millionaire or anything oh! But when you live from week to week under bare necessities, been able to get what I want par-time is bliss…

But what DO I want?

I have a Wishlist. I’m supposed to buy white heels, black heels and nude heels. I’m supposed to get a new structured bag. A couple of wigs. A new contour kit. New makeup brushes… You know the drill. And I had gotten them all. My cart was full. Time to pay and I got a notification about how my account was deactivated for security reasons.


Here I was, finally taking the bull by the horn and shopping for the me, the myself, the I. And the universe decided to do me dirty.

I opened several new accounts and to sort try and re-order my items. With each new account, my items were reducing and reducing. I couldn’t remember all that I ordered, I couldn’t remember the brands, I couldn’t find the colours.

Some items remained constant in each of these accounts that would eventually prove barren. They were for work; wigs and stickers. Stickers directly for work, wigs indirectly. Everything else fizzled away. Just goes to say, seems work is still my necessity. #sadLife.


I’ve gotten used to being on the move. I’m always designing something, calculating something, working on something. I’ve never wanted to be busy.

I don’t know how.

I drop balls.

I forget things.

Forget to do the things I like… The things that keep me sane.

I think I think that the older I get the better I’ll get at this… it’s a lie. A whole ass lie.

It will never get better

Adulting. The world’s secret scam. Smh.

Growing up

When I grow up,

I want a garden of flowers.

I want stone pavements but no pool.

I want a lawn behind my house.

Somewhere to breathe and walk bare foot in,

somewhere to watch the skies of life blur by.

Somewhere to sit with my dog when I’m tensed

Somewhere to play with my dog when I’m not.

Somewhere to have friends over and just be.

Something beautiful for my eyes only.

● ● ●

When i grow up,

I want a garden of flowers

Flowers of a productive, happy life

Flowers of shiny teeth and laughter.

Flowers of no raised voices and no hurtful exchanges.

Flowers underlined by love, understanding and harmony

Flowers of not caring what anyone else thought

Flowers where I support you and you support me.

● ● ●

When I grow up,

I want to be a garden.

Hecticity in numbers

Life has become hectic.

The problem with a hectic life is that it is seen as a hectic life. For some people, hectic is normal for them. They are used to the pace and the vibe so, everything goes as normal. What is hectic for us is normalcy for them. For we that don’t, life is abnormal. And the only way to balance out is to drop the ball in other areas of life. To balance my hectic, I’ve dropped the ball in keeping up adequately with friends, exercising, writing and blogging. It’s weird because those things WERE my shit.

Today is the first day I have opened this app in over a month. So lots of blogs to read snd catch up on, lots of updates and not much of ranting.

First off are, of course, my shorts. I think that was what my last post was on. Sales have been good but not good enough that I’ll consider doing ready to wear yet. Lots of “i love that print but i want a smaller size and vice versa.” So next time, samples only and then take orders.

I also recently got a deal to supply some shorts out of the country. This was one of the happiest things to go down this week. Nigeria is great but their appreciation of craft and handwork is on the low side. So, I had prayed for such a connection last year. We’re still ironing out the kinks of the agreement but I’m chuffed.

Numero duo, because of having to go up and down buying, seeing tailors and marketing, I wore out the seat of my only day-to-day jeans. I’ve had those jeans since I was 17.


Well, jeans weren’t allowed in my university. And you get used to not wearing them and wearing fabric trousers. So much so that wearing keans becomes alien. So they languished for that time with periodic wears till I graduated at 21. Since then, they’ve enjoyed me a bit more and I them up till last year whennwearing them was almost 2-3 times a week. I noticed a tear at crotch level one day i was going out. By the time I got back home, crotch level had migrated to butt cheeks and it was good bye jeans. Good thing i wore a dress shirt that day, right?!

Jeans stretch with washing; that’s how they remained my size. I just kept nipping the waist and making adjustments as they got larger. I havent remajned the same size from 17. 😂😂

That incident made me take a long hard look at my wardrobe and I realized I have very few proper clothes and even less foot wear. This is what happens when you work from home and rarely go out. So now I actually have to build up my wardrobe by spending my money. I KNOW RIGHT??!! THE AUDACITY! (Also because I am weirdly aware I don’t have the wardrobe for Eggman’s more expensive lifestyle)

Meta (which is three in my language), Not like i have low self esteem but I know Eggman and I are nowhere near each other on the levels ladder. I’m closer to commoner status. But going out together and all, yeah, I need to step-up. I am actually lazy about things like this. The only reason I have nice clothes is because I am a tailor and I practice on myself, pere. Asides that I have a very chill lifestyle of shirts and shorts and one sandal/ slippers… when actually these things would last more if they were mixed in with other options. My jeans might not have died with a terrible ass-grin if I had 4 more jeans I played with at will 😢😢😢😢. Anyway, Eggman is going on leave next week and is leaving the country for that periods (not Nigerian by birth so he flies willynilly flaunting his stupid blue passport and not getting the trash treatment our green gives us in other countries). Anyway it’s an excellent period to stock up footwear and clothes. Especially heels… i don’t even have a black pair of heels, guys. I’m 27 for christsakes! What if I got invited to a business meeting? What will I wear? Sandals with socks?

IV. Most importantly, I launched my sofa tissue boxes! Yes, finally!! Been working on them since august last year. But finally mid-april. I birthed them. It’s had a great reception everywhere I take it to. YES, ME!!! I’m now a marketer… not a great marketer but I’m trying. I was favoured enough to get it stocked in Nike’s art gallery, the LARGEST FREAKING GALLERY IN west africa. Mrs. Nike Okundaye, the owner, is so amazing! I just showed up that friday, lugging a big ass bag with no appointment and no prior communication. It was a big risk that I would never normally consider but Eggman had pushed towards it till I thought… what do I have to loose! She looked at them gave me some critique about them and working on the finishing. I couldnt read if she liked them or not. Next thing, she told me that I could exhibit with them and try sell some at their stand in Tafawa Balewa Square, TBS! Maybe she felt bad for not been able to get them, maybe she was throwing a bone? I didn’t care! I found my way there and put them on show.

At Tafawa Balewa Square

At Tafawa Balewa square

The exhibition was meant to last till saturday so rather than lug the big bag home and back, I asked at days end if i could leave it with them and come pick it on sunday since I was too busy to come on saturday. On sunday, they weren’t around. So monday, I went to the gallery and mama (as she is fondly called) was outside with some tourists. I waited to thank her for the oppurtunity and get the bag. When she came in she bought 4 pieces and ordered for 8 more. I showed up with 8 a week later and 2 extras to include options in case she didn’t like any. You guys! She got ALL 10! I cannot begin to explain my happiness.

Sitting pretty in Nike’s art gallery

We also stocked at Terrakulture. Solely thanks to Eggman. It’s really awesome having someone push your work that hard. Especially since i have a more go with the flow personality. He went there for lunch and well…

*mumu means idiot. 😑

*sme sme means slow or lazy-like fashion. Syn. Lacqadaisical. Example: she was just doing sme sme.

*badoski means bad ass or that’s awesome.


AND Some weeks later… we got in!

Sitting pretty in Terrakulture

I’m working on getting it to other of such places. One of the places I went to loved it but said it was too pricey for their customers but guuuyyyyssss!!!! They gave me places I should go and target. Like so much support and loveeee!!!! One even bought a piece. Staying upbeat!

I had a pop up some weeks back… which i will talk more about in my next post, mainly because of Eggman. AGAIN. I KNOW!

Those are my life’s hectics in a nutshell.

You can check out my instagram page for other great pictures and updates. Yessss, I’m on instagram, finally!!!

Those are my life basics in a nutshell. What have y’all been up to???

Precarious positions

So I’ve been on tenterhooks and extremely anxious the past few days. It’s made it extremely difficult to focus on anythng. That’s because I finally got thr pictures of my work edited snd done and there was suddenly no more ‘to-do’ hurdles on my list. Now I hsd to actually launch. Originally, my plan was to have it up on a couple of fashion sites. My silehnt partners disagreed. (I dont think they understand what the silent in front of our partnership involves).

They adviced a centralized focal point to build the platform of the brand itself and gave customers relate personally and some other blah blah blah. It didn’t make any sense to me. I just wanted to sell, make my money, make another batch, sell… who cared about business platform whatever?

But they hammered on it and everyobe I discused it with ha,mered the same point…. apparently I’m the blunt one in my group…. good thing I’m surrounded by iron right?!

So after going from fabric curator to designer to pattern creator to tailor, I became the photographer and then the photo editor. Afterwhich I donned my writing and editing skills to create the easy dialogue I want my brand to have on my twitter, instagram and facebook pages…. so social manager?

E. X. H. A. U. S. T. I. N. G.

But it’s all done now, day before yesterday, I started promoting them on my pages. I’ll be putting them up for sale tomorrow evening and get this, i already have pre-bookings 😄😄😄😄.

I’m tired, drained, excited and happy… all in one. Is there an emotion for that? Exhilarated?

You can check out the pictural promotion and the story behind the brand on my shiny new instagram page here

And also on my oldie but a goodie twitter page

If you choose to follow either, just comment with “drunk archer” and I’ll follow back 😃

The fight a-brewing

“I swear to God, Seun, if you made me wear makeup for nothing I will beat you like an angry kangaroo.”

Sometime last year, I wrote this to Seun. Seun is one of closest friends in the world. He is also a giving, kind individual. I would rather die than relate to him calmly. It’s just insults after insults daily. We thrive on it. So, of course, when we had somewhere to go and all of a sudden, his messages aren’t delivering and his number is switched off…. I was livid. I was livid because of my makeup.

One of last year’s resolutions was to become a lot more proficient in my makeup use; to break out of the shell of just foundation and powder and unlock the secrets behind highlighting, contouring, baking, setting, priming(?). I had bought them all and slowly started learning to do them all but boyyyy did it take time! Had to be an hour at least. Even though I have always admired how these ladies go about doing makeup every bloody day… the time, the dedication. Whilst me I am planning on getting up 15 minutes before I need to step out, they are up at the crack of dawn, to have enough time and steady fingers to do their faces… whilst my dont-give-a-fuck ass rolls out of bed, does a 10 minutes bathe, wears clothes and rushes out. That’s a lie. Picking out clothes is the beign of my existence and can take FOREVER! But that’s another matter. My behind the scenes practical knowledge unlocked a new level of admiration for how coordinated they have to be everyday to get to work made up and on time.

Now, imagine spending an hour on said makeup, 30 minutes fighting with your wardrobe and thennnnn, the person you’re supposed to go with phone is off. I saw red. He eventually came.

A reader commented that she wanted to read on my first fight with Eggman and I, for the life of me couldn’t think up a scene that would have me so upset that it would take a rise our me. And then I remembered.

Eggman and I haven’t seen of late and I’m not asking him any questions. I mean, its not my money been spent so why will I be making demands? Just as well, my wardrobe needed a breather before I started having to repeat. He called on sunday and I heard something along the lines of “I bought something for you. I wont be going to work on Monday, I have meetings lined up. I’ll come pick you up in the evening, 8 o’ clock good?.”

Monday was a mess of a day, I had so much to do. By the time, I went upstairs to take a bathe, it was 7.45pm. I begged the Lagos traffic spirit to do their thing and apparently they did because by 8.30, I hadn’t still gotten a call… Highly irregular. By 8.45pm I was done crossing t’s and highlighting in discretion so I put a call through.

He didn’t pick.

I didn’t see red… not yet.

He called back. I asked him how he was, he said he had been taken to a chinese restaurant by a client. “He asked if I had dinner plans after the meeting and I almost shouted my ‘No'” he said, “Now i don’t need to stress about what to eat tonight. He says its the most authentic chinese restaurant in Lagos, not like I would know the difference, he’s the chinese one.” He laughed at his joke and continued “but I’m so full. I’ve crossed my limit and now it’s like I’m been stuffed for Christmas.”

A faint tint of pink, filmed my vision.

“Are we still going out?” I asked, as I struggled to keep my angry emotions in check and out of my voice.

There was a short terse silence and then he echoed, “out?”

“Yes, out. You said we were going out tonight.”

Another terse silent and then a “no, wait!” The line fell dead. I released a deep breathe of anger and took a deeper breathe of resignation. I looked at my made up face in the mirror. What a waste. My phone began to vibrate and I picked it up. He apologised profusely. He had just planned to come by, see me, chat and give me what he bought. He didn’t know he had said ‘go out’. “It’s fine,” my mouth said and I really was. It had happened already, why cry over spilt milk? “I’m still coming, we can still go out,” he said. “Nah… it’s already late, just go home. I need to wash my face.” That opened another gate of apologies. I just wanted to cut the phone, wash my face and eat before someone took the last chicken. Instead, I had to be understanding of his sorriness, I had to make him feel better for wasting my time and makeup… life is amazing. “It’s fine eggman, for real. Just break down in communication. But you’ll have to bear with me if I double and triple check anything you tell me.” I still don’t know if that was a joke or a warning.

We reverted to regular chit-chat and then. I didn’t hear something he said and he commented about cleaning me out my ears. I took this as an added quip to the “incident”. I stopped him before the words hit the ground. “Just because I’m not sounding upset about this doesn’t mean I’m not.”

Full glare red.

Something in our regular chatty dynamix is different but I’m in my don’t-give-a-fuck feels… since I’m also partially deaf, let the one with good ears fix it. 😑

A wakanda story 2

Intermission ends

Act 2

My bag did the honours of preserving the seat for his friend while I wondered why he hadn’t told me earlier. He had booked for the tickets since afternoon, so it wasnt a spontaneous decision. What If I had gone with the homeless look I had originally planned? The cinema was practically back door so, dressing up to it was a chore. I had come here in shirt, gym trousers and bathroom slippers a lot of times. It was only because I needed to wear long sleeves, I had changed my plan. I am susceptible to cold. Very susceptible. My only long-sleeve was a black off shoulder number. It was either that or a jacket. I went with the former and matched it with ankara shorts.

Shortly into the movie, the friend arrived and I asked Eggman to switch seats with me so he coul seat closer to his friend. He declined. So, I, Taiwo the winner of the socially Inept/ socially awkward award for twenty seven years running was supposed to make small talk with the friend. You don’t win decades of awards by being predictable and I think my decision to not say anything to him after greeting him will help me secure this year’s award.

Let’s be honest, what in the world do I have to say to a perfect stranger? Besides, you weren’t meant to talk in the cinemas; that’s bad behaviour. I kept up my movie commentary-review to Eggman though. At one time, his friend laughed at something I had said. Either he had developed spidey senses and could hear the lowest decibels or he was actually focused on listening to what I was saying. I desperately wanted to believe he was listening in: Weighing my words and checking if I was good enough to be talking to his friend, making sure I was a sane person before his friend fell in too deep… but I’m forced to admit the developed spidey senses made a LOT more sense than all that jibber-jabber. It would also explain why he came in late: He was out fighting crime, keeping the streets of Lagos clean. He was on his phone half the time anyway and I bet you there’s a spider man drone that he had on patrol and was monitoring it’s movements. I wanted to turn to him, shake his hand and say thank you so much sir. But, i was socially inept not crazy. That award is already full of nominations of Nigerian presidents, governers, ministers and senators… I wouldn’t stand a chance.

Late into the movie, the cold began to sip into my clothes. I had taken a pee-break to have a feel of the warm outside but now I was back and with no more excuses to leave. And then it began, the dreaded repercussion of not wearing warm clothes; my teeth began to chatter. Loudly. My hands quickly covered my mouth and I tried to keep my eyes as wide as I could so it looked like I was surprised and captivated by the fighting scene which was on. I hoped desperately that the speakers cancelled out the chatter noise.

It did, I think.

And I maintained my shocked and surprised look till the end of the movie.

Eggman took me home and I was right in my drunk long-island assumption of last week because we hugged and left it that without the emotional instability and week-long thought provokiness of a kiss.

The end.

Curtain close.

[Comes out to take a bow amidst cries of encore, is surprised by angry audience who throw tomatoes, which is fortified with vitamin C and great for the skin. Win-win.]

Fourth date.

A Wakanda story 1

Curtain opens

Act I

It was a late evening in February when Eggman called in. The entire conversation was littered with me saying, “ehn? What?” As I couldn’t make out head or tail of what he was saying. This was because he had decided to adopt the weird accent that was used in the dialogue of the black panther movie. I assumed this was punishment for not agreeing to go to the cinema with him to see it since the first weekend of its release. And, apparently, suggesting he go and see it by himself was a rubbish suggestion. He was convinced we were the last people in the world to not see the movie. You’d have thought I was punishing him. I actually had valid reasons for not been interested in seeing it yet.

Firstly, I knew the movie was overrated and propelled to greatness mainly by my fellow black people’s need to have what white people have. Wanting to have what others have isn’t really a bad thing, except maybe when it’s towards a freaking imaginary hero… I mean.

My other reason for stalling was I have really bad cinema etiquettes. I simply cannot be quiet and watch. On my own? Yes. But with someone else? I feel dissection and commentaries are required. I mean why will you go to a movie with someone except for whispered reviews on what is happening?

Another reason was that I simply am not a movie person. Trailers are wasted on me… in one eye, out through the other and forgotten in a minute. It’s almost natural that I watch a movie a year or two after its release, if that.

I finally settled for going with him in March. By The first Sunday in March, he and his ridiculous accent were on the phone. He was having tummy troubles but had booked for the 8.15 pm tickets. Talk about number 1 fan of black panther!

I assumed he would come pick me up but he got busy and called in by 8 asking if I could take a cab and meet him there instead. This I couldn’t do because my android phone had passed on. I only had the nokia 3310 and asking it to download the uber app would be phone abuse. It was one of the most difficult admissions to make. I hate been on the receiving end of things like this. It was bad enough I couldn’t do a “don’t worry, my treat” at any of our dates because they were just too expensive, now I couldn’t even order a cab??? He ordered the cab and my shame was complete when on arrival at the cinema, the driver told me the trip had already been paid for. Poor, broke-ass Taiwo 😐.


I have issues.

I know.

We went into the cinema. The place was PACKED! We had to sit at the front segment. I have never seen anybody sit at that segment in all my years of seeing movies months after their release. The seat creaked in confusion as it nursed bums for its first ever users. Eggman then asked me to reserve an extra seat as he had a friend coming.

Oh, really?

Act 1 concluded


This thing called support

These past few weeks have been proper exhausting; mentally, physically, socially you name it. I feel I am a tiptoe away from breakdown constantly. This was confirmed when I started having breakouts on my face. I never have breakouts, not even on my periods.

I have thought plenty about support. My continual tiredness, tenseness and nerves makes it hard to reach out to my friends like before but amazingly, they have done all the reaching out without bile or malice. Even whem I can’t carry a chat, there is no grudge. I needed to take pictures and one of them was ready to drop his only phobe for the whole weekend. I needed financial support, and another of them came through…. she still asked me if I needed kore out of the blue sometime this week. Yesterday, I sent them all the first picture of my tissuebox and the reponse was amazing; it warmed my heart.

It’s surprising because all they have is me saying I’m working. They don’t know how much or see how much. They can only guess and assume. Yet, there are those that see all my exertions thoroughly and their reaction is the exact opposite.

I used to work in my room, but with the amount of work I had, I didn’t have space in my room so I moved back to the upstairs sitting room.

Read about when I chose to move my work to my room here

Last year april, I had asked to use one of the spare rooms in the chalet. My parents had dug up all manner of excuses. Then in december, when my young cousin (who now stays with us) was on vacation and returned home, my parents suddenly realised how tiny the room actually was. All of a sudden, the chalet was offered on a silver platter. I was wiser and I knew the motive. I knew one day, I would go there to start work and meet the place locked up. That, I could trust.

These days, as they go on to bed, I am seen pumping away at the sewing machine. Come 5am, when my dad wakes up, I am still at the same sewing machine. But I don’t think it sips in. Or if it does, they dont care. Not like any of this is a huge surprise to me. Especially not after the events of last year. I really expect the bare minimum from them, if that…

My dad’s current axe to grind is that he wants his dinner ready by 6.45pm latest all the way from 8.30pm. So, I’m expected to stop work by 5 and immediately jog to the kitchen and get on cooking. And still recieve criticism that “he wants more green in his food, only poor people eat plain food”. There is also my mum who loves the Jekyll and Hyde of making things worse than they are by planting seeds of discord and then smiling at you. I begin to see where that trait in my twin brother came from.

When I say I want to move out, a lot of people take it as a whim… a single lady wanting freedom to paint the town red… it isn’t. It’s a desperate separation to work out family issues. I would actually say I need therapy. Imagine not trusting those you share blood with. To be honest, from my experirnce with them as well as my extended family over the years, I’ve grown to not rate blood. I’ll rather connect spiritually. If we connect spiritually and we also share blood, yay! If not, yay! They are the normality, they are the ones who I know to trust. When my dad feels it’s okay to tell me I am cold or unfeeling, or my mum brings up my past relationship that she knew NOTHING about past his name, and says I must have done something go chase him away… i see it for whT it is. Its not beneficial information because they do not know me well enough to know my true character. It’s words intended to make me feel bad about myself. This ploy had worked for the first 20 years of my life. But we thank God for growth, I know who and what I am and their words and thoughts can never change that anymore. 😊

Blame it on the long island

I am a creature of habit. I notice repititive behaviours and file them away. Apparently, my mind is desperate to be one day chosen as the world’s first human computer hybrid. This also explains why I excelled in Quantitative reasoning in primary school. So, I totally understood my shock and ultimate crash when Eggman’s Tuesday call was hinting at us seeing on friday. “You mean saturday,” I corrected him because, if date 1 is on Saturday, and date 2 is on saturday the answer to “when is date 3?” Is obviously saturday for everyone except the village idiot. He hinted at it again on Wednesday with the added sprinkles of my wearing a red dress. I promptly ignored both suggestions. The correct date was saturday and i was no idiot neither did I reside in a village. On Thursday, he said it again and I was like waaaiiitttttt, are you serious?

He was.

He also wanted me to wear heels with the red dress.

I shot down both dreams with the true and sure aim of an archer. I mean, Asides, my obvious need to make most people realise I adore disappointing them… I also couldn’t leave my parent’s house in heels at 8pm without getting preached at the next day. So I doned a short multicoloured skater skirt, black sphagetti top and ballet lace-up flats. I looked as cute as a button.

That friday evening in February took us to Radisson blu. I know i don’t frequent expensive hotels but having to pass my bag through one of those xray machine they use at airports and walk through a metal detector was a surprise. We went to the bar and I won the vote to sit at the bar. I love high chairs. Drinks arrived and a heated bowl of nuts. We chewed, drank and chatted while familiar songs meandered through the air. BLISS!

There was a guy and a lady singing covers with a live band. Eggman said they were paid for the gig. I couldn’t, wouldn’t believe him… Singing and playing snookers, singing and cracking jokes with people around and, on top of all that, getting paid whilst singing other people’s songs??? Meanwhile, all this time I’ve been wasting my own covers in bathroom performances…????


The guy did have a wonderful voice though and maybe I was watching him a bit too much because he came and stood behind Eggman, urging me to “look at my man” while he droned out a romantic number. If I wasn’t 30% alcohol at thst point, It would have been SOOOO awkward. I mean, yes I liked the guy but we were no way near looking into each others eyes. Eggman played it off and we giggled like children when he left.

Our suya arrived and we nibbled away. I wish I could remenber what we talked about. We were just two happy people going at it. The barman cleared our debris away and asked if we wanted anything, Eggman asked for a long island (it was so strong it almost got my mascara teared up) but I was good, mindful of my alcohol threshold which I felt was a sip away. I was also mindful our first two drinks, nuts and suya were looming around 12,000. Our second date had been around 30. I dont know what his pay is but those were a lot in my world. Eggman was having none of it… probably because he didnt want to look like the drunkard in the relationship. The barman said he would make something special. And surprised I was when what looked to be a pretty pink ice tower was presented to me. It rose three times the height of the cup and I nibbled hard at it, scared it would melt like icecream. It didn’t. However it was made, melting off on the patron had been carefuly studied and prevented. After demolishing it off with a tea spoon, I asked for the toilet and Eggman introduced me to the tallest door I had seen on any toilet.

Eggman was leaning against the bar when I returned. I asked him if he was ready to leave and he in reply moved behind me and hugged me tightly from behind. There. In front of the bar. I was surprised but my alcohol addled brain was less prone to over think and I sank imto the moment. His breathe was a fan on my highlit cheeks and I rested my hand on his which were on my tummy and we moved slowly to the jazz sounds that were played. It was nice.

He had me home shortly before 12. We hugged goodnight, he wouldn’t release me from the hug and so my cheek lay against his. I was quizzical and then, in a split second, his lips were on mine. I went from quizzical to surprised, very surprised. We poke fun at each other so much I had forgetten the romantic interest part. I still think it was his long-island that got to him.

Third date.

The journey of labour

Th vision of 2018 can be summed up in two words: Get money! Make that three: Get money legally. The plan was equally as simple, but with way more words : create ready to wear pieces by outsourcing. Simple, right? RIGHT?! If you thought “yeah or duh or indeed young chap chapette” you’d be wrong…. OH SO SO WRONG.

My path was strewn with hurdles of problems.

  1. A game to outsource: my eyes are ridiculously over-sensitive to mistakes. It’s like i stood on the eye line and forgot to move. Would explain why my ability to recollect faces is so low… spent all my damn time in the eye department. So, I needed someone who could try NOT to make mistskes. I also needed one that understood a customer wasn’t a bank to siphon money from. Not charge one random top for 10,000 because she saw a shoe she wanted to buy and was broke. Finally, after two months, in December, I found someone. I was excited to kick off for january. The only challenge with her was she stayed quite a distance away but, mountain to mohammed, I was ready to do what needed doing. And then, early january, her mum passed, she was devastated, and in no position to work. I felt bad for her… REALLY BAD… but at the same time, I felt bad for me. Where would I begin to find someone else???
  2. Under your nose: it was a week into February and still, no tailor had i found. I feared for my dreams… my make money dreams. Would it be eschewed like wax from my ear? Was i doomed to another year of mediocrity? Worry kept me up thinking and one day, when a colleague called in, I spilled my issues. As the issues escaped my weary worried lips; my brain began to warm up. Here was this colleague, who had attended the same sewing school with me! We shared the same name and though not close friends, we checked up on each other, twice a week thereabout. But best of all, I knew her work. She was good, she was fast and she was flexible with payment as far as you paid in money. So, a day later, I called her and even before I told her the entire plan sbe was on board. She also chose to come meet me rather than me going to meet her, which effectively cut out the challenge I had with the former girl. And so, I found my tailor. But like the odour of fart after a plate of beans, another challenge loomed .
  3. Gbese: the tree I pick money from was not in season. So, I was in empty pocket mode … well not empty, but no way near enough to do all the purchases and payments I needed to create the pieces. I had gone on holiday early december and my January salary was tied to something else. It would take me 2-3 months to plough the necessary finances. I needed help. I decided to ask a friend about investing and she was super excited to be involved. Investing is really just a fancy word for borrow but a borrower i became. I still don’t know how i would work the next batch when I pay her from the sales but oh well
  4. Mo money, mo problems: However, the money I borrowed wasn’t all I needed. I had needed more but I wanted to borrow money that will not keep me up in the night crying to the moon. To balance out, I halved the tailor’s pay by doing half the work for the shorts and just about all of it for the tissue boxes. Sleep deprivation became my nickname last week. I was desperate to finish up and launch this march.
  5. The result:

We got the tissue box stocked at Terrakulture Terrakulture just today !! 😰😰😰😰

And we have us 18 shorts ready and brewed to be sold. So far, so good. 🙏

Still stressed.


For 2½ weeks I was offline. I lost touch with friends , customers, news, gossip, updates, emails… The reality of my existence was at a standstill… Everything that mattered to me was out of arm’s reach.




The first few days were of me imagining what i woujld be doing if my phone was functioning. What I’ld be pinning on pinterest’ what I was zupposed to be blogging about, what my customers wanted me to make and I was missing out on, what brilliant topic twitter nigeria has unearthed for us to get angry about, which of my favourite cartoons had new episode I was missing out on… The list was endless and I was depressed; Depressed by all I was missing out on and about the fact I could rectify nothing of this situation as my funds were all tied up in business. In time I started to readjust. Electricity supply around that period was close to 18 hours daily and so, I got a ludicrous amount of work done. Sleep came a lot earlier and somehow, my need for afternon naps disappeared. But most especially, I read.

I had always put my lack of interest in reading down to no time but here I was doing more work AND reading. I had started 9 books and finished 8. I missed my social media accounts less and less… All the arguments on feminism, the arguments on dating ethics, arguments on proper behaviour… Not seeing them or been involved with them gave me peace. How many minds have I changed over a twitter argument? Little… Very very little. But yet there I’ll be, frontline in battle, day in day out, hands pursed over my keyboard, heart beating and brain twisting up charming insults in readiness… Ready to be tipped into anger at any given moment, ready to ‘type-lash’ individuals into seeing the errors only my brilliant eyes could see and direct them away from. For free oh! It’s not like I was getting paid… I was actually paying, using my own data for all of this.

But of course, my forced offline prison time had to end eventually. As someone who has passed through 10 years in schools that doubled as torture camps and prison camps, I know it’s way easier to be decisive when you have no choice than when you do. But the forecast looks good. My friend, Seun gave me this phone last week Wednesday and though I haven’t read much, that’s mainly because I have a project I’m working on with a deadline for this sunday. Social media interaction remains at an all time low. We wait.

RIP good intentions

I really wanted it to work out, i really really did. However, my dreams were pulled up by the root of their shoots when my long suffering phone gave up the ghost three shorts weeks ago. Well, not really ‘gave up’, more like a coma… She has so much heart and struggles to wake up, but consequently keeps reverting from start-up screen to off; never loading fully. It was a trying time… more so because of when she decided to begin this stunt.

It was a saturday evening and I was made up to highlighter and dressed to the nines in a pastel pink two-piece silk kimono and bluoson shorts… Luxury leisure. It was date two with my friend’s cousin.

Why was I so dressed? In an effort to trigger a snobbish high and mighty reaction and earn lessened interest, I had gone all out to look like the homeless for our first date. He, however, took this to mean I was a simple minimalist fellow. Which was on opposite poles of the truth with the reality.

I also wanted to shock him a bit and set the record straight.

We went to a beautiful reataurant called NOK located on the Island. The ambience of the place was so chikked with hints of culture in the decoration. It was lovely and also my first live experience seeing a host standing at the entrance behind a stand greeting and asking about reservstions. This host proceeded to ask me the question, “do you have a reservation?”



I was thrilled. He asked me (ME!) like i could afford to even pay for the air I inhaled there without gettimg upset 😆. Apparently, I looked like I could! 1 point for packaging!

We had a three course platter and waiters amd waitresses constantly coming to check if we needed anything in an unobstrotive quietly polite way I has never experienced. My last “fine dining” experience was at Debonairs Pizza where, midmeal, a waiter appeared and just came up and started cleaning the table. Our exposed pizza lay on the table, having coitus with the particles he was drumming up from his filthy rag. So yes, I favoured this 100%.

Under plenty of gist and laughter the last of the meal disappeared. I am proud to report excellent handling of cutlery and not once reverting to using my hands to de-flesh the chicken. However, the coldness of the air slowly began to seep into my skin. I am susceptible to cold on a normal day and my skimpy silk getup was little to shield me from the embarassing teeth chattering I get in cold enviroments. I quickly suggested we sit outside. He sniggered.

Outside was even lovelier than the inside, I don’t know how I didn’t notice it. Mats, rocking chairs, marble Ottoman, lamps… It was like some Arabiam night setting. It was here that my phone decided bastard is her name and begam rotating between going off and rebooting. I surreptiosly slipped it out of sight but, he had already seen it. Both it and I became the butt of many a joke… Especially since I remained adamant that the phone would do a Jesus and resurrect.

Date 2 ended with him stepping out of the car to demand a hug after dropping me off. Apparently unsatisfied with the paltry side-hug I gave him, young man demanded another. It was like a “yeah, we laugh and play but I’m not trying to be just your friend” remimder. I was amused. And so it ended. *curtain call*

Day 16: the prompts in my words

Prompt: “One thing you need to say”

Your eyes are your worst enemies in the game of meeting people.

Growing up, I was very judgemental of women based on how they dressed and acted. Somehow my eyes learned and saw anything short or revealing in any way as an invitation for male attention.. which made her a ‘bad’ girl and definitely not someone I wanted to befriend. In my young mind, there was no such thing as an introvert or an extrovert, there were just normal quiet girls and girls that were desperate for male attention. Wanting male attention was the worst sin of all to my young mind. Tattoos and piercings were like a giant hazard signal communicating to me that there was no good within the person. People that smoked or drank were a preview of hells’ candidates. To crown it all, my eyes were privileged and believed that people who dressed in better clothes deserves better treatment.

I can’t say where I got these ideals from but they stayed with me for a long time. Till one day, when I was seventeen, one of such girls befriended me. It was like she had decided we would be friends whether I like it or not. she made 99% of the effort (my 1% effort was replying her questions). As our friendship grew and I learned more about her,  my mind moved from “she is bad” to “what’s wrong in being bad?” to “was she bad?”

She loved herself, she loved her body, She wasn’t watching how she acted or wondering what people thought of her every step like I did all the time. She was generous and kind, she knew and understood the Bible way more than I did, She was unapologetically herself and I loved it. 

My eyes didn’t. My eyes remained stuck in their school archaic of thought. Drastic measures were to meted out so, I made myself wear these clothes. I started to wear shorts going out… It was so uncomfortable at first but I kept my eyes straight and upward and ignored the voices in my head shouting. As I got more used to these shorts and started to like them, I realised, as expected, that I hadn’t suddenly become desirous of male attention. It was just me in a pair of shorts. I stopped dressing my best when I had errands to run. Some strangers treated me like shit, assuming I was a house-help. But I learned the more important thing of not treat people like shit just because of what they wore… Till today it is near impossible to see me act pumpous to the lower people of society. I got an extra piercing. I loved it… But I often forgot to put in the piercing and eventually it closed up.

I experimented smoking and I experimented drinking. Smoking wasn’t my thing and my interest in it disappeared in a puff of snoke.. Drinking was though. Whilst drinking, I learned I could actually dance publicly. My birthday while I was at camp was the first of many. It was great! But I learned my limits too: only social drinking and three cups of anything slightly spiked.

I morphed into who my eyes despised the most… A person that dresses her body whichever way she wanted in spite of the ideas of a morally bankrupt society that loved the “appearance” of these morals. A society that would rather push you into a labelled box than expose themselves to learning more of you.

I still unconsciously judge people based on how they choose to life, but I’m quick to cut it to ask and demand “are you any better?”

The answer is No.

No I’m not.

Day 14: updates are red, wordpress is blue… Goodbye to the first prompt series, I won’t miss you.

Today’s prompt is “you knew”… I think this is the final nail in the coffin for that particular series of February word prompts. I mean, you knew what? Prompting idiocy, that’s what it’s doing. I’ll switch to the 15 prompts.. hopefully those are interesting enough to keep me on track.

It’s valentine and I hope you all remembered to tell your favest and bestest how much you love them (even though they reply in the most annoying responses… At least mine were.

I will be going to the market to return these two as damaged goods.

Anyway, In the spirit of the season, I want to share one of the favourite love-life poems I wrote many many years ago. Enjoy.

Day 12: prompts bite the word-dust

I haven’t been able to follow the prompt because the words were weird one was ‘mesh’ and the other was ‘6 pack’. I would twist them around trying to make sense of them and eventually I’ld wake up the next morning with drool on my phone. 

As today’s word is ‘you bastard’, (I mean, where does one even go with that?) I’m just going to spare my phone the added saliva and fill you guys in one of the newest things I’ve realized about myself just over this weekend. 

But first, What brought about these realisations? .

A friend decided to hook me up with his cousin which well I wasn’t really into because, the guy was in his thirties and I’m not ready for marriage or anyone that sees me as a daughter-figure. Turned out my opinion didn’t  matter much because apparently this plan had been in the works since last year November when my friend invited me to go with him to this cousin’s birthday. Then 2-3 weeks back, he asked me if I would to go to this cousin’s place with him, saying he was going there to do something but I was pretty busy so I declined. Later in the evening he dropped the bombshell. 

He wanted to hook me up with his cousin. My first reply was “ARE YOU MAD?” Because really, no other explanation made sense.  2018 was the year of making money and he knew that… Distractions like these were to be mocked and stoned. But then he explained the cousin also wanted to do a fashion line or something, and that he was wealthy so he would be good for my business, he was also quite intelligent and could give me really good advice concerning said business. Well, THOSE I totally was for, so I gave him a yes, albeit grudgingly. We got chatting from tuesday last week and I was ready-made for some i-am-older-than-you attitude. Oddly enough, conversation flowed. And he turned out to have a good sense of humour. 

He was in Abu Dhabi for a convention of sort. But by the time he got back Friday morning, he was already suggesting that we have a date first for Friday evening which was way too soon for me and then during the weekend. I agreed for Saturday, very grudgingly. I don’t like dates with strangers… Even near strangers… Frankly, I don’t like dates with unfamiliar people. And I prefer to chat for a period that you become familiar to me and THEN date.
On Saturday, while he went through his itinerary, ‘date’ didn’t come up and I breathed an inner sigh of relief. Till next week, it was then! Imagine my shock when I woke up by 5 to a message: “let’s do ice cream at casper and gambini… 7.30 good? What do you think?”
Friends, I didn’t know my heart could beat that fast. I was almost wheezing. This was one of the more expensive places to eat in Lagos, a meal was probably my week’s pay. I am a proper Scrooge McDuck… and such wastage of  money was foreign to me. Not only was I dealing with meeting a relative stranger, now I had the added ‘joy’ of him been way way  WAY out of my comfort zone financially. My chest felt like there was a coconut inside it. I was not ready for this reaction. I got in touch with my friend and my cousin to allay my fears. And my cousin said, word for word, “so you like broke boys this much? LOOOL”… I donno, with family like that who needs enemies
I asked him to move the date elsewhere and he mentioned an ocean’s view restaurant on the island. I realised I had to take charge if I didn’t want to end up eating food that would be my month’s salary whilst hiding tears that night. I moved it to grounds I was more familiar with (cheaper) and texted concerns about going on a date so soon. He called and said he was flexible if I really wanted to shift it. I weighed options for a while and then he said “I’m hearing crickets” which i found to be funny. So, With a knot the size of an apple in my chest, I agreed to show up. 
Then started the battle of the wardrobe. I have a LOT of clothes… But somehow they went into hiding and left the rags. My bed was buried beneath a mound of clothes by the time I was done. Long story short, I arrived 20 minutes late. 

I don’t know what I expected; an extra head under his neck? Three fingered hands? A cape and tights? But he was normal and my anxiety retreated. We had been chatting all week, so it was easy to relate to each other, talk and laugh. 

So here’s what  I learnt aboy myself that weekend:
. I am not allergic to panic attacks.

2. Extreme wealth bothers me.

3. I don’t like good things as much as I thought. 

4. I had no plans to ever date anyone more than a year older than me.

Curious. Really curious.


Prompted, she wrote (day 9)

Today’s, day 9, writing prompt is “killed it”. The last thing I killed was mosquito bite, I don’t really think of it as a killing. I think of it as removing life from something that was never meant to know existence. 

How will you sing in my ear knowing fully well you have a terrible voice, then suck my blood, then rub your saliva on my skin, THEN give me malaria?! All because I fed and listened to your shit… like who does thst?! 

A demon, thats who… a demon from  the pit of hell that needs to be sent back to the hell from whence it came. And I do that with relish! Slapping and clapping willynilly with hands the good Lord gave me!

Then there’s cockroaches. Good, disgusting little assholes that birth 20 photocopied assholes at once. they put a feeling in me that is only expunged when I hold a slipper far above my head and descend on it with the strength of 10 angry women. I feel no irritation, just fulfilment that I did what noah didn’t want to do. I also feel disgust about clearing up cockroach guts but it’s just a tiny feeling. 

Just don’t let that cockroach fly close to me… I’ll be out running before you can say Jack Robinson and I will never return.

The written prompt that could (day 8)

So, yesterday’s prompt was ‘honesty is’. Well, honesty is telling you I drank a little too much last night and couldn’t stay up to write. So its 3 a.m, My head hurts like a bastard and I’m trying to rehydrate. my nose is also blocked and my hair is tangled. But the fun was worth it. 


Ps: I made that dress in 2 days… Second day been the day I wore it.


Writing is from Mars, prompts are from venus – day 7

‘i found a key’ is the prompt of today and for the life of me, I can’t sit down to think about what I can relate this to. Something just came to mind though.  my on-again off again relationship ended last year and a lot of my friends had their eyebrows raised in quizzical disbelief, not believing for a second that it was final. Can’t say I blame them, since 2011 it’s been going on. Hell, I started this blog as a private space to vent after our first break then. So of course, When it ended, i expected it to be as traumatic as all our others. I expected tears and waterfalls but except that first night, it was nifty. I think what a few trickles that dried up as quickly as they had strayed from my eyes, it was just bland. Maybe it was because of how it all went down… I had called him and I asked him some questions related to us and if he could see us dating properly again and his answer was quite ambiguous. What he didn’t know was that night, I had a paper in front of me with two choices: yes or no. There was no room for doubt. So I circled no. My chest felt tight and I think I cried a little. 

Then somehow, I looked at the big picture… we had been together for so very long that it was almost impossible to imagine myself with anybody else. And then the thought crept in “imagine there’s the possibility of a relationship far more awesome than this was.” That thought lifted my gloom. We had been good together, but now, there was something better coming. I had learnt how to be a better person a better friend better partner; tangible and practical ways to be better for myself and my friendships and I’ve held onto those things to the point that there’s no more regrets. The fact that that happened has kept a thought in me, if you go through any difficult circumstance find something to learn from it, something to hold onto. That even if you are woken in the middle of the night, torch light glaring into your eyes and a voice demanding, “what did you learn?” you have it at the tip of your tongue. 

 When I eventually ran into him at a concert December last year, there was nothing, my heart didn’t  skip a beat, I didn’t feel anything… just a “hey, that’s omelette” and  i went to say hi. No rush, no leftover feelings. I had my closure and that was my key.