Relationship Gists

WHEN PIGS WEAR PEARLS

As much as the pic on the left may seem like an insult, it really is not.

It takes a deep thinker to really get this. Or maybe you're not even a deep thinker. Maybe you're just a person who has been taken for granted way too often than is healthy for your emotional stability.

Maybe you’re that person who is always the first to say hi and probably never gets as much as a smile back…

Or there’s this really cool guy in your life. He asked you out all - and by himself might I add - and things started going nice but then, one day he woke up and started acting as though all the functioning parts in his brain suddenly shut down – pardon my less than nice words but we know how some people can be at times, acting like you put the moves on them – because he probably met someone else and decided that you were too boring for him because you didn’t have enough action to keep him interested (even though we all know he’s the one with the issues) so he gradually stopped doing all those nice things for you. Then after treating you like crap, he walks out without a single goodbye.

Your heart is broken; you feel jilted. Then after several buckets of chocolate and ice cream and friends who helped you recover somewhat; you decide you’ll live through it. You won’t die of a broken heart after all.

Then just when you’re finally back on your own two feet, the ex decides to make a return…and he says how much he’s sorry for taking you for granted; how he wants you back…yada yada. Against your better judgment and because you still have these traitorous feelings for him, you decide to give him another chance. Maybe he really has seen the light and will not fudge things up this time.

But of course, because we are yet to hear of a leopard that changed his spots, he does fudge things up. And this time, of course, your heart is in worse shape than it was.

And then you go through another more painful recovery process…and because of his assumption that you will be forever alone without him in your life, the ex comes back again all weepy and repentant, crawling and looking like he’s lost some weight. Ahnahn! Na only him waka come?! Please, whether you’re an angel abi archangel sef, you will locate a broom and chase him and his decidedly amoral ways away with it; and that’s if you don’t locate acid first.

In your case, it may be a lady taking you, a guy, for granted. Or a friend that you keep doing everything for but s/he does absolutely nothing to invest in your friendship. Tut tut.

See, I'm not beating up the idea of giving people a second chance. Heck, a thousandth chance is probably cool too; if your heart can take it, awesome.

It's fine to give people a long rope; it's fine to allow yourself to be slighted occasionally while you take it all in good faith. But trust me, as sure as day follows night, one day, 'slight' may turn to 'slam'; 'Push' may turn to 'Shove'. Then what will you do? Let 'shove' turn to 'shove you over the cliff so you can go die'?

People that hurt you know that they are hurting you and gradually, if not taken care of, they will turn you into a disillusioned and cynical person.

As strong and thick-skinned as you may be, there's always a breaking point for even the most patient of souls. Don't ever let anyone gain so much control over your emotions like that. Not even precious little me! If I've exhausted my grace period with you, feel free to kick me out of your life (but try not to make it hurt too much please! :D )

All jokes apart though; If someone's not working hard enough to earn a worthy place in your life as you're working to earn a place in theirs, you may want to gently and 'jejely' leave them and go where you'll be applauded. There’s only so much heartache that one human being can endure. No one, no one ever is worthy of your broken tears...walking away is hard and heart-wrenching but it's totally doable.

Remember, relationships are investments. Both parties MUST play their parts in investing in the relationship for it to work. If only one person is doing all the investment, my dear, forget it. It has become a sole proprietorship business something.

With these very 'few' words of mine, I hope I have been able to convince and not confuse you that swine don't look pretty in pearls! 😂😛

PS: Comments will be appreciated :)

WE TOOK THEIR MONEY, AND THEY WERE NAUGHT...

DISCLAIMER: (RE-READ THIS WHEN YOU'RE DONE READING THE POST)
Let it be known to all readers that the contents of this post are a mere interesting figment of the author's  crazy imagination.  The author shall not be held liable for any panic attacks that may result following the reading of this. **inserts Voldemort laughter** MUHAWHAWHAW!

Once I met a rich, rich, way-too-rich-for-his-own-good man.

Who had no name.

Monikers? Yes. Plenty of them.

But a name? No, he hadn’t.

His bank balance had too many zeroes behind it. Talk about being zero-laden. I tried counting them and I dozed of mid-count. And I’m saying this with a poker face.

I asked him what his name was but he just stared at me blankly through empty and soulless eyes, and then he dipped his fat, pudgy hands in his big pockets, withdrew a wad of cash and shoved the bulk in my face, eager to shut me up. I observed him; everyone of his tiny movements told me that he was impatient to get back to making some more money – after all, that was what his life was all about – the twitching of his fingers; the fidgeting of his nicely-shod feet; the way his eyes would dart from my face to his wide mahogany desk which had countless chequebooks on top of it. Dude didn’t even know his own name.

Alright, PAUSE! NO, ermm...CUT! CUT!

OK, OK, don’t get mad at me just yet.

I’m working to get my creative juices flowing. That one's not working so well. Let's try a differrent tack.

Ahem!

Work with me on this.

So, relaxing in my little parlour after a hard day at work, I suddenly heard the loud blare of a trumpet. It was not a sound that you could ignore. 
Eyes widening and heart pounding, I told myself; surely, that must be the rapture that has been preached about by countless preachers about God and the second coming. Panicked, I worried that I was going to be left behind to suffer intense pain and persecution and the what nots that the Bible says were to follow...but then I caught a glimpse of the window...or rather, what was going on beyond the window and I saw the weirdest thing ever.

Money! Lots of it! Trillions of Benjamin Franklins, Queen Elizabeths and Tafawa Balewas! Floating in the...air? My brows furrowed as I tried to work out the logicality of that. Then I realised that the papers and coins were not just floating, they were rising up into the sky! And they wouldn’t stop! Quickly, I glanced towards where my purse lay on the table and saw what little change I had left forcing its way out of my purse and heading past my astounded face towards the window; making a huge lie of gravity.

No! Freaking! Way! A money rapture!

Give or take an hour later and news came in on the TV via countless news reporters that the bodies of several known billionaires had been found lying about, as a result of successful suicides.

And me? Well, let's just say that the bright glint of the sharp edge of my knife seemed to be singing me a catchy love song.

Oops! A moneyless world apparently isn’t as much fun as one where the mammon god reigns.



CUT!



Now, I shall not be accused of blasphemy or of twisting the Bible for my own convenience. It has been clearly stated in the disclaimer above that this is purely imaginative gibberish...gibberish that makes some sense though, right? Right? Please say yes.

I can practically see some of you running for your money and sitting on it just in case a money rapture actually happens so your money doesn't float away. Lol.

Now I ask you and I ask me, if all the money in the world just literally, up and left, who would you be? A ragged pauper oozing so much stink; just an ordinary person, or a person with a wealth of character whose smiles and happiness are not only due to the amount of money flowing through their hands?


I remain a strict believer; GOD FIRST, OVER EVERYTHING.


#selah.

FOR AWELE...AND THOSE WHO ARE GONE...

Ever had your life come into sharp focus?



That moment when you lost someone near and dear and everything else around you just fades into some hazy background while life; your life glares in your face...



That moment when someone who seemed so alive just makes an untimely exit on us all, leaving us behind to deal with the rude shock of their death...



It's the scary moment when you realise that life indeed has nothing to offer that can be taken along with us to our respective graves...it's vain. At that point, you suddenly remember that all you are is dust...dust gets blown away by wind and so can we...and all of us eventually, will get blown away.



It's at this moment that your head gets snatched out of the clouds and you slam back down to cold and hard  reality...you then realise that you're never going to see that person again...never hear them laugh one more time or see them smile one more time...never be able to tell them to their face that you love them and think they are absolutely precious.



The moment when you look down into the casket and see them right inside it...alone and holding nothing and then it dawns on you that, really, you came in with nothing and you're leaving with nothing...



The moment when you look at the stiff, dry and cold body lying in the morgue and the beauty that was once so precious just ceases to matter...



That moment when the reality of life's vanity hits you hard and you just want to grab your credit card, run to the ATM, withdraw every last dime in your account and give to everyone that has no food to eat...after all, what's the point in saving up when you too, just like that precious lost loved one, could breathe your last anytime?



The moment when that material possession stops looking so cool and your needs suddenly cease to be needs...they don't seem so important anymore.



It's the moment when you feel the urgent need to mend and rebuild burnt bridges and make necessary amend where necessary with the necessary people...



It's the moment where you make a vow to yourself to appreciate that very breath that's now going into your lungs...to savour that food that you're eating...to appreciate the beauty in everyone/thing...to speak more gently to everyone and smile more often...to love more freely and grow a bigger and more selfless heart...



It's the point where grudges and the gravest offences cease to matter...



It's the point where GOD's Omnipotence becomes more magnified in your helpless state...



I've loved and I've lost.



You can probably relate with this; I know what it feels like to lose someone dear and I dearly hate the feeling. But even in this, I am nudged into the realisation of love and the appreciation of life...



That, dearie, is MY moment of sharp focus.



Awele is beautiful...I use 'is' because I speak of the beautiful memory of her that will always live on in our hearts...and she thrived through the pain admirably. Tempted as I am to ask GOD why HE took you away even while we were on bended knees praying for you to get well, I'm confident that you're now enfolded in GOD's warm embrace...where pain has no meaning. Though we mourn her passing, we rejoice because she has made the transition to a better place.

 

Rest In Peace Awele...

FOR AWELE...AND FOR EVERYONE WHO IS GONE...R.I.P.



(Comment your moment of sharp focus below please :) )

FROM A TINY TOT'S P.O.V.

YOU! I LOVE YOU! 

There, I said it. But I bet my blog page and all my smarmy and silly posts that you won't say it back. How do I know? Ha! In. Yo. Face! *does the wiggle dance* 😜

OK, so I got into reading this particular article about what various kids had to say about love and I nearly ended up teary-eyed. It goes without saying that love means one thing to you and a different thing to me. And then an entire universe-sized different thing to a little kid who has no knowledge of big words such as 'romance', 'complications' and 'despicable'.

Some of us will define love as sex; and some think it's all about romance, sweet words and a table for two by candlelight. Some will boldly say that love lies in the enthralling power in a lover's kiss. *clears throat* the French. *clears throat* 😒😁. Did I say something? Nah! Move on!

Some think love's all about giving to someone in need and others would blithely tell you that GOD is love. 

My opinion on what love is is inconsequential in the grand scheme of things (because each person will have to create their own meaning of the word).

Reason being that I lately discovered that we adults who have a wide sphere of experience and lots of big words in our language repertoire tend to go in too deep when asked what love is to us. 
Ask a little kid what s/he thinks love is and s/he'll tell you that love is that warm sticky hug that they get from their mama each night before bed; or that love is that huge bar of chocolate that their best friend shared with them. Some sweet kids even believe that love is being kind enough to 'kiss their booboos better'! 

Kids don't magnify these things. It's precious to them. Their little hearts adore it so they tag it love. Take it away from them and they suffer a withdrawal but soon, they march right on! Try telling a kid 'I love you' and I bet you, if you say it sincerely enough, you'll get a high-pitched 'I love you too!' in return. No pause or overthinking it.

We adults have made it a point to make it a big deal and we find ourselves stuttering helplessly when someone asks us 'Do you love me?'
We find ourselves overanalyzing the word 'love' and we never get to actually admit that indeed, the feeling does burn within us. 

Love is...

Love is simple. It's a breath of fresh air. It's the singular simple thing right there in this crazy-as-all-get-out world. It's true and it's real.

It's a kiss. It's a hug. It's a peck on the cheek. It's a sunny smile. It's crying with someone that's crying and laughing when they laugh. Doesn't have to be romantic to be true. It just is! 

Dare I say that in order to really understand love, we need to quit overanalyzing and just get right to it. 
I find it near impossible to picture a world filled with simple-hearted people where bombs are being thrown about like Frisbees! 

C'mon pals! Get right into love. 

Again, I love you... *thrusts mic in your face and glares
* what d'you say?! 
A/N: The hand in the pic is mine! You like? 😉😂

THE ASSURANCE OF...

She walked down the alley…cold, tired and lonely in the thick morning fog.

At this crazy point in her life, it was far easier for her to believe that she had finally lost the ability to feel anything besides the coldness on her inside. Her insides felt totally frozen. Everyone had deserted her.

Not literally…rather, figuratively. She had family. They were always there, surrounding her; at the occasional party, get-togethers and at the other pretentious and superfluous gatherings that her ‘plasticky’ mother more than often found an excuse to organize.

She stumbled slightly on the pavement and quickly righted herself to avoid slamming her head into a pole…not that she’d feel the pain anyway. Somewhere in the dark recesses of her numb mind, she registered the thought of pain as her big toe came in sharp contact with the unforgiving hard stone pavement but she couldn’t say for sure that she’d felt it.

She wanted out…out of this cold, and out of this slightly damp clothes that now clung to her slim and slight frame. What the heck, who was she kidding? If she could just see a different route out of her sick life, she’d be happy…but she’d tried already and had been caught before the smooth edge of the sweet, kind knife could slice its way through the pale, soft skin of her ready wrist. But man, had it been close. She remembered momentarily hating the guts of the butler for intruding on her well-planned exit ceremony out of life. Immediately he'd caught her, her mother had been alerted. 
And that had happened just a few weeks ago, after her drug overdose attempt had failed. The stupid ambulance had been too quick to get her to the hospital even though all she'd managed was a tiny cut to the skin.

“I need you. Stop been so pathetic with your miserable attempts to leave me. I won’t give you the satisfaction so you might as well just…just give up” her mother had said softly to her as she lay in the hospital bed. Her mother never raised her voice. Ever. Creepy much.

After that, she’d gone and gotten herself good and drunk on nearly all the beer that the bartender had in stock, and had proceeded to snooze off carelessly on the table, in a careless and carefree stupor. Rough and hard groping hands hastening to quickly divest her of her clothes in the dark corner of the bar she’d chosen to get lost in had her starting awake. Her judo skills had come in very handy in  disposing of the groper and now she was going back home in the very little hours of the morning…cold, tired and just…numb.

Hands stuffed in the pockets of the black coat which practically engulfed her thin body, she let the biting night air sweep her mousy brown hair into her face wildly, partially obstructing her vision and rendering her practically indiscernible. And that was good. Being invisible was good. It felt very good. She’d rather not be seen. She was used to that life.

Her mother had forced her to see an expert psychologist the week after her thwarted suicide attempt, after all she had a public image to save and she definitely couldn’t afford having to constantly show society her crazy nutcase of a psycho daughter – her exact words. And she’d undoubtedly acquiesced… but had only kept mum and stared at the bespectacled middle-aged psychologist who’d set her all-too-seeing eyes on her…as if seeking to discover her innermost secrets…trying to find out what the source and reason for her hurt was.

When none of that had yielded any helpful results, save for a poker-faced stare from herself, the shrink simply walked around the table and bent to enfold her in a light, awkward embrace.

Now, as she neared her mother’s over-large hulking house which stood high and proud, albeit cold among other houses of its kind on the finely lined street, she struggled to put a name to the feeling she’d felt run through her as the psychologist had wrapped her arms around her.

She’d first of all known shocked alarm – any form of contact alarmed her because it certainly wasn’t within her sphere of experience – followed closely by a short-lived sense of belonging and warmth, before the waves of panic had started rolling in and she’d firmly extracted herself from the shrink’s comforting embrace.

Though the feeling was now fast becoming a distant memory, the words still echoed through the walls of her empty mind…the whispered words of a shrink who thought she saw into the wealth of pain that her patient languished in. Such delusion. No one knew her pain…save her!

“It never lasts you know…the pain. Except you choose for it to. Stop trying to end it…that’s the coward’s way out…and you look to me like a fighter. So fight. You don’t have to hold it in when letting it out remains a valid option. Believe me, there’s warmth to be felt, hard as it may be hard for you to believe. The world is not a total suck-pit. There’s still a bit of good left, not that I’m claiming to be good. But if you don’t give up searching, you’ll find it…the good I mean. Let the pus flow out love, only then will your wound stand a chance of healing.”

It was at that point that the panic had fully set in and she’d decided she could do without the motivational speech, hence shoving the woman away from her and scrambling to her feet to make a hasty exit.

Even then, she’d been unable to resist glancing back, if only to convince herself that she’d see the woman laughing at her, making a lie of all her words…but all she’d seen were eyes that understood her hurt and seemed to hurt along with her. But that couldn’t be possible. She hurt alone. Always had…always would.

“I’ve searched too long. I think it’s okay to stop now” she’d muttered in a croaky voice before slamming the door unceremoniously behind her.

As she now slipped into her house, nodding a silent greeting to the stoic butler and trudging upstairs to her room, she saw on her bedroom table, a small envelop which contained a card…a business card – with the psychologist’s name along with contact address and phone number – and a small piece of paper on which was written,

                                                “I’m always here love” 

  

                                                ******************************

The assurance of love…

Of knowing that, come what may, even if you fall a thousand times,

the same arms will be there to help lift you up, is the only thing that anyone needs to survive in a world that’s sad, mocking and dark.

The assurance of the ability to feel…

Of knowing that even if you feel cold on the inside, warm arms are waiting, outstretched, to enfold you within their warmth…making the sweet heat seep slowly into you to melt your inner frozen self…to help diminish the cold…helping you know that on an entirely different level, you’re connected to someone…affirming your connection to life…reminding you that you’re not alone.

CHERISHED.

The assurance of friendship…

Of knowing that in those dark moments when even those who ought to offer their shoulders for you to lean on disappear, someone somewhere has a ready shoulder…and ready ears…and ready arms…plus a big heart.

The will to live…

To know that even when life becomes meaningless and feels vacuous, you’re living your life for yourself, not for others, hence, the strong, iron will to live today, enjoy the fresh air while you can, smell the roses while you can…and face tomorrow’s challenges, when they come.

Impending Extinction Alert!!! – Meanest Moms and Gentlemen

He was a handsome guy. Very easy on the eyes and well-dressed. Nice and clean suit; I’m talking about the whole works!

I, seeing how cool and well put-together he was, idly wondered how this gem of a gentleman had come to be the way he was.

He looked almost perfect to me! He’d helped one lady with her chair when she was about to sit down and I’d watched him earlier as he calmed a young kid who had been tearing about the place, intent on destruction.

I didn’t mention that we were at a house party, did I?

I walked up to him; the stranger. I just had to know his secret. He was too good to be true and men like him didn’t walk by me every day! In fact, they were so rare; I was starting to believe they were extinct.

“Hello!” I greeted with a wide smile.

He returned my smile with a greeting and a smile of his own and I was charmed.

Long story short, I told him I’d been watching him for a while now.

Yeah, I’m like that; not shy or anything. Guess you can call me the say-it-as-you-see-it-kinda-girl. Lol.

Of course, he, to say the least, was shocked at my straightforwardness.

“Yep, I’ve been observing your- you know, the way you do things; your appearance and I have to wonder; what is it that made you the way you are? I think someone had a hand in making you this way! You couldn’t have just developed genius gentleman skills all by yourself!” my voice had risen now.

He smiled at me, still surprised though. I waited patiently for his answer. I wasn’t in a hurry. I was going to have my answer.

And no, I wasn’t flirting. I swear, I wasn’t! I was just curious. J

So he was quiet for a moment. He seemed to be weighing his answer. I could tell I’d thrown him a sort of curve-ball with that question.

Then, after about two minutes of careful weighing, he said,

“I guess you can say that it’s because I had to grow up with the meanest mother ever.”

My brows peaked. I was confused. Had I heard him right?

“Uh, pardon me?”

He smiled and said more fervently.

“You heard me right, lady. I grew up with the meanest mother ever”

OK. I had expected any answer but this. I’d thought to hear something along the lines of;

“Well, I attended this school were you had to have the best manners or sign out”

“My father trained me to be a gentleman and since he was, it wasn’t hard to follow suit”

This answer was nothing short of shocking.

I was about to open my mouth to ask him if he’d heard my question but he grinned and held up a hand to stall whatever I was about to blurt out, then he led me to a table. After pulling out a chair for me to sit, he sat down and crossed a feet over his knee.

When he was comfortable, he started talking.

Everything he said to me that day was a revelation of sorts.

“When I was little, I hated vegetables. I preferred candies, pastries and pizza. You know what kids love, right? My friends got to choose what they had for breakfast. I didn’t. Mom made me eat broccoli and spinach and then she’d pack fruits in my lunch box too! Occasionally, we got to eat turkey and other stuff like that but she forced me to eat healthy. Does any kid care about eating healthy? No!”

I gasped. Eew! I hate spinach…and broccoli!  

That woman, ugh!

He smiled at my comical expression and continued.

“Growing up, I was the typical kid. I wanted to have lots of friends and play all day like my friends were allowed to. Mom said no, I had to stay at home and finish my homework first. Then she insisted on knowing all my friends. If they weren’t to her taste, she ticked them off my list.”

I had to laugh at that. “She ticked them off your list? Why, it’s called your list for a reason! You should be allowed to make friends with whoever you like, duh!”

OK, the ‘duh’ was silent.

He smiled and continued.

“I didn’t like it either! It sucked. I couldn’t have the coolest friends and all the great dudes at school sort of avoided me. I wasn’t mommy’s boy but I was as close to wimpy as they came.” He said with a straight face. I looked at the man lounging comfortably in his seat across me. ‘Wimpy’ wasn’t a word I would use to describe him by a thousand miles. He oozed self-confidence and assurance without being arrogant.

“Then to make things really worse, she made me kneel by my bed daily and say my prayers to God. Morning and night. I’d be feeling so groggy and all, but prayers had to be said!”

I didn’t know her and neither had I met her but I didn’t like his mother at all. A mother who makes a little child kneel to pray? That had to be sort of illegal, right? Bad mother, that.

He wasn’t done, apparently. He opened his mouth and went on.

“She made me return other kids’ stuff if I took them without asking. I’d tell her it belonged to my friend and that that was how we rolled but she’d yell and say that if I didn’t return that stuff immediately, I’d get such a spanking, I wouldn’t soon forget it. So, I had to learn to make do with my own things and nothing but my things. Lady, that wasn’t cool either.”

I felt for the man seated in front of me. A faraway look was in his eyes now as if remembering those days was torture for him. At least, I thought so.

At this point, I wanted to tell him to skip this part about his mother and just tell me how he’d become the man that he was today; an absolute gentleman.

But he didn’t look like he was even here with me again. That faraway look remained in his eyes and he continued.

“My very mean mother made life miserable for me, dear. She made me go to church on Sundays while my mates got to hang out at clubs and party the morning off. We had the occasional outing and family moments but it always seemed like more fun out there, somehow. Then she’d ensure that I never missed a day at school. That law of no kid-spanking? Nah, it didn’t work at our home. She’d spank me until my backside turned blue then I had to thank her for the spanking too. As for my sisters and female cousins and friends, I wasn’t allowed to raise my voice at them or hit them. Not even in jest. Mom said every woman was a queen even if I couldn’t see her crown.”

Hmmm…I sort of liked that ‘queen’ bit, but the spanking? My eyes bugged. “Di-did you ever report her to the police?” I stuttered.

He smiled now. “No dear. If I had, my other relatives would have gladly shown me why reporting to the police wasn’t the best idea. They happened to be meaner than mom.”

I groaned now. This was too much. He’d really had a bad time growing up.

“She’d make me attend dance lessons, learn how to knot a decent tie and then she made me wear those ties to formal outings.” He pointed at his throat and true, there was a perfectly knotted tie at his collar. His smile at me widened.

“See? She was that mean. Till now, I can’t knot a tie wrong, even if I’m sleeping! Then she’d make me clean my room. In an age where boys were rebellious, I couldn’t be. I just couldn’t. My room had to be spick and span and my socks and shirts had to be washed weekly and neatly folded as soon as I learnt how to operate the washing machine. My life was hard. The other kids had it so fine and so smooth and so free, I had it rickety, straight and well, not so free. I didn’t live a prisoner’s life but then again, I didn’t live free. Mom insisted on always knowing where I was. Imagine that. If I was out past curfew time, a grounding was waiting for me somewhere on the horizon. And if I was being sneaky, she always knew somehow. I used to think that that was creepy, though. Mom wasn’t my favorite person back then”

At his use of ‘back then’, my brows peaked again. “And now?”

He smiled a sorrowful smile. “She died last year. And her last words to me were, ‘I know I was the meanest mother, boy. But see how you turned out? I made a gentleman out of you and I’d do it all over again if I had to! Your mean mother loves you much, dear’ and she went to be with God.”

I frowned. “So, what you are saying to me now, is your mother-your mo-” I couldn’t even finish the sentence. I was having a hard time understanding it myself.

He laughed now.

“You got it right, lady. My very mean mother is the reason I’m like this. And strange as it may sound, I wouldn’t settle for a wife who couldn’t learn to be a mean mother either!” he said this with a smile and I saw him thumb away a drop of tear from the corner of his eye.

He was crying for the loss of his ermmm…mean mother?!

Who woulda thought?!!!

                                                **********************************

                                              

Absolutely Beautiful!

Lol! OK, this is major fiction from my own bejeweled pen. Ha-ha!

You already guessed, right?

Do excuse the weird title. I think I major in weird titles.

N.B – Not all the gentlemen in the world were bred by their mothers but mamas sure can help in breeding more gentlemen for us. I think being a gentleman even in this century can’t ever be overrated.

So right now, I’ll just assume (with hope) that you get what my point is and I’ll snap my pen close. I’m not going to waste my ink! :p

People, appreciate your mamaz. Ladies, value ’em gentlemen!

P.S. – Please, don’t keep your opinions to yourself. There are two comment boxes below! Thanks.

Ciao! J  :*

 (cont'd from last post, below) It occurred to me to ask the question that may be on the minds of some who know me. Who am I to write on man-woman relationship? What I know of relationship, I believe I learnt primarily from the Holy Spirit giving me insight into God’s word and my flair for reading widely. So, please don’t condemn me for the things that I write, OK?

Now we were speaking last week about how beautiful things attract the eye...remember the 'Macy's analogy'? In the same way, things tagged ‘Ugly’ attract the eye and causes reactions like a raised eyebrow, disgust, irritation and in few and exceptional cases, curiosity.

If you are a single lady and you are reading this here post, I have wonderful news that is guaranteed to make you smile.

the 'Peruser'

Your significant other is currently perusing his surroundings carefully.

He has come across several types of ladies that have caused him to raise a brow, caused distaste, and maybe even attracted him but not enough to keep him. He is not looking for a lady who will keep him. He does not desire to wake up daily and see a person beside him that will cause him to raise his eyebrow. He knows what he wants and he knows that he hasn't found it yet.

He knows that he wants the woman that will ‘ensnare’ and not just ‘keep’ him. He knows that he wants a woman that will stand out among the others. He knows that he wants a designed woman. He knows that a formed woman will not complement him because he has worked hard to design himself. He wants a well designed woman.

He wants you.

He wants to wake up every day and just ‘long’. He knows that he is not perfect and that you also, are not perfect but that, together – as a team, you are perfect!

 If you are waiting for him, do not despair. Rather, work while you wait. Do not remain idle. He wants to meet you with your hand holding the sickle. He does not desire a liability. He wants to know that you are capable of over-seeing things in his absence.

If you are currently dating someone who enjoys your heavy dependence on him, be careful. You might be consorting with a ‘Controller’ here!

You need someone who knows that you are strong.

don't be scared to lean into his strength...

There’s no harm in being strong. And there is no harm in being weak.

This is where the harm is however: In not knowing when to be strong and when to be weak.

A woman must be strong enough so that her man knows he has not married a weakling, and she must be weak enough so that he sees her as a vulnerable person capable of feelings. Her weakness must communicate to him that she knows to rely on him when she needs a fresh reserve of strength and comfort.

If she becomes too strong, he sees himself as being insufficient and he may assume that she is trying to usurp his superior position.

Two strong people vying for a strength trophy do not romantic relationships make.

He begins to think that he is no longer needed around and he starts to look for another person who is willing to rely on him – a real woman.

A real woman is wise and knows how to keep her man ‘interested’. She knows that if she doesn't play her role and play her cards right, there are thousands of women out there waiting with bated breath and batting lashes to ensnare him. They are willing to become putty in his hands. So she takes steps (which we’ll be discussing later on) to ensure that her man remains ‘her man’.

Another question for you...

Are you a Real Woman?

Real women are not born physically. They are cultivated.

You, as a woman, reach into yourself and remove the ‘bitchiness’, ‘nagger’ and ‘naughtiness’ that is your natural self and you work towards being personable.

Shedding off these things is akin to shedding off unwanted fat from the body. This entails discipline and hard work. It doesn't happen in one day...it happens over a period of time and you make efforts to stay in shape every day of your life.

UNWANTED FATS - THE ‘NAGGER’

Every woman is liable to being a ‘nagger’ and I am yet to see what the average man hates more than nagging. Nagging disorients and frustrates them and if you don’t believe me, ask your male friend, husband or partner.

If you are a man and you are reading this, I can mentally picture you nodding in agreement.

putting him off kilter...

Any woman could be a pro at it without working too hard. We nag each other. We nag our fellow ladies concerning little issues and we nag them concerning big issues. We nag our siblings and sometimes, our parents. We nag concerning past and long dead issues, resurrecting them and giving them strength...we nag when our friend has neglected to do something that she ought to do and we nag when she did it but did not do it well. We nag when our friend forgets to compliment us and we nag when she does it but not to our liking. We nag in the market and nag at the stores...and then we get married and the nagging continues because we didn't learn how to hold a bridle to our tongues.

The average woman gets very angry indeed when she says something repeatedly and her husband neglects to heed her. She, as a result, flares up or becomes hurt because she feels that her feelings don't mean jack to him.

Men react to nagging differently.

Hot-tempered men will just flare up out-rightly when their women keep droning on like a broken record. They can’t stand the noise and they tell their women that with blazing eyes and a very loud voice. In extreme cases, such men may even inflict physical violence on their wives.

Cool and more even-tempered men may just tell their women to hush or they may withdraw into themselves, acting like they didn't hear her in the first place.

The average woman tends to think that her man can’t retain information once, so she feels the need to keep saying it and she gives in to that need, not realizing that she is slowly driving her man to the edge of insanity.

Nagging can be controlled and stopped if we care to.

Let us have a look at this couple:

Ben is a big burly man who just lost his job and as a result, is staying at home with the kids, keeping the home while he surfs the net for job opportunities.

He is trying not to have egotistical issues about the fact that his wife, Gloria, is working nine-to-five to keep the family catered for but this is what he minds though: His wife gets home from work each day and neglects to thank him for keeping the home. All she sees as she steps in through the door is the fact that a stray sock has found its way into her microwave oven and that throw-pillows are scattered around the living room floor. Ben considers the fact that she has been at work all day and doesn't say anything while she vents all her concerns on how she doesn't think he is capable of taking care of the home, albeit loudly after which she hits the issue on the head, “Maybe if you had a job, the home wouldn't be in such a state of disarray!” She goes thus for two straight weeks and gets away with it.

On this particular day, she returns home from work and the home is tidy and in good order with nary a speck in sight and there is even a lovely aroma wafting in through the kitchen door but Gloria already had ‘the speech’ on the tip of her tongue and as soon as she steps in through the door, she lets loose her tongue. Ben, who was sitting at the P.C. at the time, decides he has had enough and loses his temper, horribly. She weeps and later, while cleaning her eyes, notices that Ben had actually taken his time to keep the house clean and also, at the same time, she perceives the food and then she starts to feel like a heel and berates herself for not being patient and understanding – understanding of the fact that even though her husband is feeling inadequate in his jobless state, he still takes time to keep the kids fed and to clean the house as best he can.

The problem here is that Gloria is being selfish.

All she is considering is the fact that she has to work hard all day and she is concentrating on her feelings alone and disregarding her husband’s feelings of incapability.

His ego is already bruised and she is not helping any by berating him.

In that horrible situation of helplessness, Ben needs her encouragement. He needs to know that her love for him is not based on his ability to bring in money into the house alone. He needs to know that she trusts him to take proper care of the kids.

He doesn't need her telling him that he is useless.

As a woman, whenever you feel the floodgates of your emotions struggling to force themselves open to result in a storm of horrible nagging, relax and keep your mouth sealed. ‘Zipping it’ may mean feeling frustrated and deprived but it may also mean saving your relationship.

Men have a thing about being in charge. Our trust in them is what strengthens them (ignore the men who use it to their advantage, hurting the women in the process). They glory in our trust in them and there is no better way of communicating to them your distrust of them than by nagging.

If he is trying his hand at something, don’t open your mouth and tell him how sure you are that he’ll flunk it. 

Rather place a hand on his arm encouragingly and tell him how sure you are that he can do it. If your deep and inner instincts tell you that he can’t or that doing it will hurt him in the end, go to God in prayer. 

For this situation, I’ll recommend Stormie Omartian’s ‘The Power of a Praying Woman’.Also, you should meditate on this Bible verse, “By strength shall no man prevail” 1 Samuel 2:9b (KJV).

Google her!

Women always have a way of knowing these things but men hardly ever accept it. In this situation, only God can help them make a wise decisions....

You may be interested in visiting my other blog. If you are, follow this path...http://subulolajiboye.blogspot.com
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Just before saying 'Bye for now', I dedicate this page to my Mum, my special Relationship Specialist/Counselor. Love you Mum.

This is not the end...

Stay deeply tuned...

Love,

Subulola Jiboye.

Hi luvs!

Its nice to see you here! Another Blog, Same me, Same Big Love!

So tell me, How do you like the look of this blog...be honest!

Correct me if I’m wrong but I have a feeling that most of my audience are adults. That is not to say that I wish for readers below the age of eighteen to stop logging on.

I have learnt that knowledge should not be limited to age-groups, except in extreme cases so you are welcome to this blog.

Now, we move on to ‘the talk’.

The reason for my initial statement is this:

This is relationship gist. You know that man-woman, boy-girl, male-female thingy? If you are looking for the man-man, woman-woman sort, I’m sorry, but this ain’t the page for it. Call me biased if you will. Thanks!

I may not be the most skillful at talking about romantic love relationships, neither may I not be the most experienced at the whole ‘THINGY’. I know of many people who believe that listening to an inexperienced or divorced person talk on relationship is like taking driving lessons from a perpetual pedestrian who has never sat behind the wheels of a car.

Now I won’t try to sweeten things up and tell you that I've been in a relationship before; almost, but I've never committed. And just in case you are wondering, I don’t play around with guys’ emotions either. I tell them straight-up how it is to be without the use of insults. However, I like to think that what I know now, I learnt from those who have real experiences of heartbreaks, true love, and what have you, in relationship with the opposite sex. Also, I am an ardent reader and a strong observer of goings-on around me.

They may be kids but I wouldn't put it past them! I'd watch 'em!

I know that being in love doesn't happen in a day; it takes a lifetime to build. You don’t force it to happen. Yes, you work on it. Love is like a plant. You don’t feed it with the necessary nutrients and, *snap* it is dead!

Love should be nurtured. You can make a decision to love but you cannot exert love or force it.

Love is deeply spiritual, as is sex.

I know you are even now wondering if I know what the heck I am talking about. To prove the point that I am not confused or mad in the head, I’ll say it again for emphasis: Sex is spiritual.

However, I won’t be talking about the spirituality of it here as this is basically a foundation for what I know about romantic relationships.

What I have to say however, before I launch into things is this:

If you dare, you have the opportunity to read an inexperienced girl’s point of view. Only if you dare.

Here goes...

As at the writing of this post, I am a fresh college graduate and I love to read, watch movies, sing and chat.

I have a host of other ‘loves’ but these rank as my highest.

I, like every other normal emotional being, consider myself a romantic. I won’t make a fool of myself and say that I am waiting for Mr. Perfect to show up because I know that no man is perfect.

But I like to think that I have so many emotions stored up inside me that not just any man can withstand it.

He has to be specially designed to take it.

Before we move on, here’s a question for you:

Do you believe that there’s someone specially designed to take you?

I do!

Many people say it around me nearly every day and in fact, I am getting sick of hearing it...’Love Happens’.

I think there’s even a movie with that title, right?

Now, I’m not denying the fact that it happens. Of course, it does. Here’s the clause though...Love happens with the right person.

There may not be a Mr. Perfect or Miss Perfect anywhere in the world, but there is a Mr/Miss Right out there for you and that Mr/Miss Right is your ‘PERFECT’. If that person becomes entangled with someone else, they might fit in the way a round peg fits into a square hole!

You are gonna have to believe it if you want to get ‘your man’. And if you already have one and you believe he is your Mr. Right, start to really see him as one. Go on, appreciate him!

That person is who you therefore, need to design yourself for.

Now you are probably wondering what I mean by ‘design’.

Well, here’s another question for you:

We both know that you have been formed; however, have you been designed?

What makes you a ‘designed’ person is not the flashy cloth and piece(s) of adornment you deck yourself up in. Neither is it the flashy mega-watt smile you use on everyone you meet. And it is definitely not your ‘WOW!’ figure eight or six-pack abs bulging out every which way.

What makes you a ‘designed’ person is your character.

When a person is born, they grow up and develop a habit which if cultivated, becomes their character. The collation of cultivated good habits and ethics result in good character and vice versa.

You deck yourself up in good character and a ‘designed’ person is the result!

Love's...good!

You may be right there in your comfort zone in smelly everything right from your person to your character and expecting your Mr Right to swing you into his arms, or your Miss Right to waltz into your waiting arms. Here’s what you’ll get: a person just like you!

If you want ‘good’, give ‘good’ and ‘be’ good!

If not, be anyone and you’ll get anyone. You may not like it but that is the way it works.

The first lesson in this post is this:

You must understand that these days, nobody wants a piece of work on their hands, or do you?

I have come across people saying, ‘I’m waiting for the man/woman who’ll bring out the ‘real me’. I ask them in my mind, ‘Oh, so this is the ‘fake’ you?’

Some even say they are waiting for someone who’ll accept them the way they are or for who they are. Well, that’ll work just fine if you are brushed down and cleaned up!

Wake up!

Ok, here’s an analogy to boost your understanding:

Makes a full dish of Fulfillment!

You walk into a boutique, say Macy’s because you need a dress or a jacket for a hot date. During the search, you’ll discover two categories of dresses: the set that caught your eyes because they were stunning and the set that looked unfathomable to you. It is highly likely that you’d walk out of Macy’s with a bag containing one of the stunning dresses!

Things tagged ‘Beautiful’ attract the eye. They make the observer want to possess. They make the observer desire. They make the observer develop a ‘longing’. In most cases, he’ll do just about anything to possess it.

Oops...I have to log off now.

However, there's more where this came from...

Stay Tuned.

*winks*