Leave the Husband Snatcher alone, she does not know you from Adam

DISCLAIMER: This is not entirely an original idea; it was sparked by tidbits from someone’s rants on a blog I read earlier today. What i have done is to turn the spark into flames (for my mind). Unfortunately, I cannot link to the blog because of some very personal issues


Many of you probably saw the picture above when it made the rounds on social media a while ago. I presume the picture was shared on social media by a scorned wife. Cheating is one of the age-long challenges that marriages and relationships face but it is annoying to see how the narrative plays out when a spouse cheats and how the blames are apportioned.

If the cheating partner is a man, a woman promptly tagged a husband snatcher becomes the sacrificial lamb. The cheated wife takes her frustration out on the mistress because well, the mistress should have closed her legs. But in a case where the cheating partner is the wife, you would expect that a wife snatcher should rightly take the heat for the offence of a cheating wife, no? However, there is no such thing like a wife snatcher, when a woman cheats she gets blamed for it. It is quite simple enough, she is an ungrateful whore. Isn’t it quite unbelievable huh, women’s inhumanity to their fellow women. 

You see, we live in a society where women are perceived to be inherently guilty. The narrative of infidelity in relationships is a clear proof of this because it does not matter who the cheating spouse is, a woman somewhere will always be blamed.

The portrayal of men like lambs being led to the slaughter of infidelity but cannot utter a word in the face of their oppressive and manipulative mistresses is a tad annoying because we all know quite well that men are generally the initiators of sexual relationships. So, unless you have proof that your husband was dragged, tied, and probably drugged to have sex with someone else, you should never call another woman a husband snatcher. Your husband’s two eyes were widely opened, he knew what he was doing and I bet you he enjoyed every bit of it. I know you have been socialized to always find a way of escape for men, to always try not to hurt their feelings, your whole life has been about making men feel good about themselves even if means you will ridicule yourself or another woman but stop it right now! Stop trying so hard to cater to the fragile egos of men, stop trying to find an excuse for him, stop trying to babysit him, didn’t he call himself a man?

It’s quite simple if you take time to go over it. You gave your trust to someone and pledged your allegiance to him, this person also promised to be your one and only till death do your part. This someone now violated your trust, dishonored his pledge to you and he decided that he was going to scatter abroad what is supposed to be exclusively yours. Yet here you are trying to exonerate him. He is the one you have a relationship and a commitment with; the husband snatcher does not know you from Adam, why do you expect so much from her while expecting very little from your beloved husband? Haba! Let’s talk where the real matter dey abeg. 

I know the morality of the mistress comes into question and we can say that a lady should not date a married man in the first place. But the thing is, these men ehn, they can be very deceitful, now add persuasive to that. They will say all manner of things just to get down with a lady. They can claim to be separated from their wife, divorced and some will even claim to be single and they can actually act for Africa. So, a lady may indeed start believing the tale and even be dreaming of getting married to an already hitched man.

And men, you no dey try o, most of you will just keep quiet and watch your mistress take all the heat for an action you both committed together, especially when it is you who have betrayed a trust. Turn a new leaf, abeg. Ermm, whats that’s phrase again sef, yes, manning up, I believe to man up is to take responsibility for your actions. Stop watching from the sidelines and allow your mistress, a woman you probably deceived, take all the blame and embarrassment. Have the guts to tell your wife to blame you more than your mistress. It might even be a sweet way of winning her trust back. Let’s man up abeg.


#MaleCodeViolation: A Man Should Never Laugh Like That


How can you not like this gorgeous smile? The infectiousness is undeniable and it appears to be coming from a sincere heart.

But for reasons which I guess has something to do with some unwritten gender code of conduct that was agreed on several centuries before the birth of Jesus, the Gender Police have spoken and the verdict is crystal clear; a man should never smile like this.

No, haha, bros even if you happy pass happy, thou shall not smile in this way. There’s just way too much teeth, so it’s a no! no!!

The very first thing in that age-old code of conduct is that a man should be hesitant, be careful. A man shouldn’t give away too much of what is going on with him and it is clear that this smile has given way too much.

So, how do you achieve the perfect manly smile that won’t leave you being looked upon as an over-excited school girl? (yes, it’s girls and women that are allowed to be overly excited, a real man should have a firm grip on all things).

1. Try as much as possible to keep your teeth tucked in. Do not show a single tooth when you smile.

2. Stand firm, stay in one position, don’t be vibrating like someone overcome by a wave of orgasm.

If you can follow these two instructions, then you will be smiling like a real man who’s got everything under control.

But on another note you would have succeeded in keeping yourself under the control of the narrow minded Gender Police, who will not stop badgering you until you become this totally fake entity that even you cannot recognize.

Image credit :


Don’t Make Me a Liar


I was by the well, both hands wrapped around the rope tied to the container inside the pool of water below when the sound of Korede Bello’s Godwin started filtering into my ears. Then it grew louder and louder. I recognized the car at once, I have returned home to find it parked in front of our apartment more than a couple of times but I  never saw the owner, I just know he comes for Keji.

People said Keji’s big gal status is thanks to her car owner boyfriend, so I had a picture of him in my mind, one that screams money. I sized him up as he stepped out, he had very dark lips that seem too heavy for him to hold apart long enough for a greeting to escape them, I hissed. If you put together the effect of those bloodshot eyes, multicolored skin and the overly muscular upper body, it’s easier to see him as a hardworking laborer.

The heavens finally hearkened to our cries that day, by wiping the sky free of clouds. So it was with a smile, the fulfilled smile of someone who finally got the laundry out of the way that I approached the clothesline. My smile froze on my face as I neared the line, Keji’s boyfriend was right there packing her clothes from the line and folding them up neatly.

C’mon!” I screamed in my head. “You can’t possibly be that loved up, or is the garri finally getting to my eyes. I’m always right, please, don’t make me a liar!”

I met him by the line and while opening his mouth was a chore still, he did make a greeting gesture with his face. I returned the gesture in kind. I walked back to my room trying to replay that moment he stepped out of his car, could I have missed something? For consolation my mind brought up Dike. Very tall Dike with biceps that are bigger than my thighs and a chest that fills out every shirt he owns. Dike who hates rap music and whose favorite musician in spite of all his machismo is Adele.

Keji’s palaver had slipped to the very back of my mind as I settled down, right hand fingers buried in a plate of eba and okra soup. But then I began to hear her scream from the corridor.
“Give me my phone; you’re not the one that bought it for me. At least you have packed everything; you even went to the line to pack the clothes I washed….”


Love by giving and taking.
While you’re at it,
Be wary of folks
Who will not lend a hand
When you want to cross a gutter
But will expect you to go on all fours
So they can ride on your back
Over a ground covered with thorns.

Birthday Musings: I got Tired

Honestly, I find it hard to believe that a year has flown by. Whoever came up with that phrase about time flying and not ticking like a clock is absolutely a genius.

I don’t have a mirror in my house but the last time I looked in the side mirror of a vehicle I boarded, I realized that not much has changed about the physical me in the past years. Save for some hair that fell off here and a little that sprouted there, I look the same way I looked seven years ago.

So, when a secondary school mate messaged me a couple of weeks back that I appeared to have changed much and he doubts that he’ll recognize me again, I laughed. I replied that he will indeed have no difficulty singling me out in a room full of a thousand men. Like everyone else, I will not be able to wear my secondary school outfits again but in my case it’s not because I have outgrown them but rather because they will be too big. Slim fitted clothes weren’t as prevalent back then.

I got Tired

Even though not much change that the eye can see has happened with me, I’m not the same person, I’ve evolved.

As a teenager I got questioning stares and actual questions a lot. People made fun of the way I walk, the way my hands can’t seem to stay in one place when I’m talking and of course my high-pitched voice. I remember I was both shocked and embarrassed when a classmate decided to imitate me on the small field outside of my classroom one afternoon. I was like, is that really how I walk and talk? Like really? To my classmate and other people like that, it was just a harmless joke but it was a big deal to me.

All those years, academics was my consolation. I psyched myself up with the fact my teasers were no match for me in the classroom and were probably just envious. However, their teasing got to me and i became this teenager for which the simplest things of life, the things nobody thinks about and takes for granted became a chore.

Every action became deliberate for me. I had to think about how shrill my voice sounded while striking everyday conversations and more than a couple of times I tried to speak with the deepest voice I could achieve by holding down my chin to my chest. I became obsessed with monitoring my steps while walking, trying to avoid the somewhat strutting pattern that comes naturally to me. Trust me, you do not want to know how demanding this was for me, it was both physically and emotionally exhausting.

Brief relief came my way when I realized that those people who make a big deal about this my supposed inadequacies were those who didn’t really know me at all. People who are indeed close to me don’t have this single story about me, so they rarely make a fuss about it; most of them are even blind to it. But it will take me years to finally come to myself because like you know, it is the approval of those who barely know us that we are often trying to break our necks to gain.

Today, I walk proudly the way that comes naturally to me and I care less about the pitch of my voice. It’s simply not worth it, nobody should have to think about their walking style unless of course they are walking the red carpet. Besides there are lots of profitable things to expend energy upon, why get wasted over such triviality.

I still find myself in one of those awful situations where in an attempt to be real, I’m tempted to start acting fake but I catch myself more quickly these days. I got tired of acting out every move, every action and every word. I got tired of trying to disprove the single story that strangers have about me, it’s not complete anyway.

Back to that mirror issue, the fact that there’s no mirror in my house right now is a solid testament that i have changed. One of the strongest vanities I indulged in while in the University is a daily dose of talcum powder masterfully spread over my face with the help of a mirror. So, if you’re still looking for evidence to decide whether I’ve changed or not, you have it.