Life and times of lovelorn Lagos Sisis: Tinuke's Story Pt 2

Where did we last leave off?Oh yeah, the rape. After the rape, things went back to normal. Bear in mind that  I didn't even consider it as rape because, I reasoned, how can someone's boyfriend rape them? Rape was what unknown men did to unknown women. Boyfriends and husbands don't rape. I knew it was something but I didn't dare let my mind conceive it to be rape. See how uneducated our girl children are? Anyways, I digress.

2 months after the incident, I found out that I was pregnant. I was really scared but I assured myself that Kunle loved me and he had been so gentle since the incident took place. So summoning all the courage I had, I walked into our room where Kunle was playing his video game. After I had blurted out the dreaded "I am pregnant" I saw Kunle freeze for a nano second. The next thing I knew was that Kunle had sprung up to his feet and was now delivering blows to my midriff whilst repeatedly chanting "stupid bitch" over and over. Kunle rained blows on me for almost 20 minutes. As I lay prone on the floor, he stepped over me into the bathroom, came back, yanked my legs open, as I started to scream, I felt a soft and wet thing going up my thighs.  It was a wash cloth, I sat up a little bit and I saw blood. Kunle had in effect aborted my baby. He was crying again and begging me to forgive him. Yes people, dummy Tinuke forgave. This cycle of physical abuse, rape, pregnancies and abortions continued for 6 years. But I was convinced he loved me. I didn't tell anybody what was going on. It was mine and Kunle's business.

Kunle had left uni and started working. I was rounding up. The next step was marriage. I waited and waited for Kunle to propose. I wasn't seeing him as frequently because of the demands of his job. One weekend, I turned up at his house from school like I usually did to cook, clean and do his laundry. His friends all jokingly (or degradingly) called me his "fo'sho-se'be" which essentially means laundry man and cook.  He met me at the door and said "Tinu, I think you should stop coming here." I was stunned and I asked him what he meant. He said "I'm seeing someone else and we are talking marriage, it is not fair to you to keep coming here". I looked at him in disbelief for a while before instinct took over. I started screaming and asking how he could come to such a decision after all I had done for him. He had wrecked my life and left me hanging and that he would pay. Before I knew what was going on, he had pounced on me and started to physically assault me. But this time, things were going to be different. I fought back, scratching at his face and feebly attempting to slap him. In the scuffle that ensued,  he ended up pushing me down a flight of stairs. I blacked out and the next thing I knew was that I was in hospital with my best friend Joan, by my side. She said Kunle had called her and told her that I had attempted suicide when he broke up with me. Imagine the effrontery of that son of a diseased pig.  I ended up narrating the whole ordeal to Joan. She was so enraged, she suggested calling the police. I told her not to worry. I was going to handle this.

Kunle had taken my love and twisted it into something dark and ugly and he was going to pay dearly.

When the dust of our relationship settled, I had had 4 voluntary abortions and 3 involuntary ones and years of physical and psychological abuse. I went into the relationship a naive young girl at 18, I came out a bitter woman. I reassessed my values. I didn't want the things I used to want as a young girl anymore. If I am going to be used and abused, then I will do so for a substantial financial reward and on my own terms. No more no less. I am pretty and well mannered with the attributes Nigerian men look for so why not put it to good use. So you could say I inadvertently stumbled upon my business model.

 The Kunle issue is now 5 years ago. I am 30 now and I am running a lucrative "escort" business, I own a chain of saloons, I own a number of boutiques and one night club. I am in the process of acquiring a filing station. You could say I am on the up and up. But I am not in this business for just money, I'm in it more for power. I am high class. I don't dally with little bank boys, I am in it with the big time players this country has to offer. They know my worth. I am nothing to be sniffed at. They prefer to ship me off with them when they have to leave the country than to do without me. That's how important I am. My phone contact list reads like the who is who in Nigeria. So, tell me, if I am controlling the crown jewels of so many influential men in this country, what's love got to do with it? Love has never gotten off its lazy ass to pay any bills in my life. So love can piss off.

Remember I said I would deal with Kunle in my own way? Well I did. His boss is "well known to me" so I got him fired and jailed for fraud. In England, an arrested person is said to be "detained at the Queen's pleasure". Kunle is there at MY pleasure and I will ask for his release whenever I damn well please. I know a certain someone whose name rhymes with IGP.  I visited the prison just to let him know that hell hath no fury like a woman violently abused and subsequently dumped. The look on his face when he realized I was behind his ordeal was priceless. Whenever I have a bad day, I think back to that look and it gives me the giggles. I take the memory out of my memory bank and polish it like silver. I hear you saying vengeance is for the Lord, well I don't purport to know much about the bible. The Lord can still exact His vengeance. Kunle deserves a double.....nay....tripple helping of that, I think. But the first cut is the deepest and in spite of all I have gained, I still wonder what would have become of me if I had taken a different path in life and never met Kunle. I guess we will never know. So I need just 2 things in life, money and power and I have and will continue to go to every and any length to get it. Everything else can just get out of my way. I tried love once and it screwed me. So never again. Draw your own conclusions.

Life and times of lovelorn Lagos Sisis- Tinuke's Story

This is the last in the Lovelorn Lagos Sisi series. Meet *Tinuke Dauda. She is a boisterous 'business woman' with a very dark past. She has agreed that this story can be shared but her name should be kept out of it.

Hello cherry's cocos. In the spirit of full disclosure, I guess I should introduce myself. My name is Tinuke Dauda. I am a "business woman". You have met my two looser best friends and you've heard of their "ordeals" in the quest for a partner to settle down with.

Whenever they start their whining, I just roll my eyes. They want to get married like yesterday. They want a guy they can grow old with. Their families are frustrating them blah blah blah. Don't get me wrong, I want to get married too. I want the happily ever after and all that drama but I want it with YOUR husband or preferably, YOUR father. Yup. I'm not interested in any stupid pencil pusher small boy that makes 1 Million a year. I can and have made 1million in an hour. It is all in a day's work, my friends.

Judge me all you want. I am laughing all the way to the bank. But that's the business side. For the romance side, yes, I don't have a problem with being a 2nd, 3rd, 4th or 5th wife. I don't mind at all. I also don't mind if I never get married. I have a plan for such eventuality: 2 or 3 strategically conceived kids will do me nicely. You will find out what I mean by "strategically conceived" as you read on.  I don't need love or all those other fairytales people delude themselves into.

If you haven't guessed by now, older men of means are my speciality. I've been called all sorts because of this; someone that wants to reap where she did not sow etc. Water off a duck's back. I have paid my dues in life and I don't see why I shouldn't enjoy the comfort the arms of an older man has to offer. And anyways, the people complaining do not know the purpose I serve or how hard I work. They go to their little 9-5s and come and sit down to point fingers. I am on call 24 hours of the day. My job is never done. Not that I'm complaining because I'm rewarded handsomely for it. Like I said, I have paid my dues and I have learnt my lessons.

I find younger men disgusting and they are an abomination to me. If a young man catches fire next to me, i would not spit on him to help him put the fire out. My people have a saying: if you see a man and you see a snake, it is better for you to kill the man than the snake. That saying just essentially means men are treacherous and you should trust a snake instead of a man. I think they should further qualify that by saying young men or small pias as i like to call them. All these chewing gum boys have nothing to offer anybody. I keep telling my friends but they have refused to listen. They have no integrity, they are not generous, they are just a bunch of oponu rada radas. It is strictly older men for me from now on.

"but Tinuke, why so bitter?" I hear you ask. Yoruba people say sometimes there is a conversation to be had, but there is no time, sometimes there is time but there is nothing to say. Today we have both time and something to say.  Let me tell you about my own quest for love and marriage.

I met *Kunle Odunlami in my 1st Year at the Ogun State University.   I was this naive girl, fresh off the boat from Ilaro where I had lived all my life with my parents. It was the Mills and Boon era when girls had the mills and boon definition of what the men of their dreams should look like. Kunle was intelligent and he had the m&b triple threat qualifier; he was tall, dark and handsome. (I just vomited a little bit in my mouth for saying that. I think we should sue M & B for false advertisment, breach of reasonable expectation etc. They lied. There is no man like that on earth. But i digress) anyways, Kunle saw me struggling with my things at the motor park and he rushed to help me. Can anyone say 'knight in shiny amour'? So I was completely bowled over by that gesture. He helped me to the front of my hostel and cheerily bade me goodbye. I was awe struck. People, Kunle was ffffoooooiiiiinnnneee. I was no Jenifa from Aiyetoro but I wasn't the most sophisticated looking girl you had ever seen. I was giddy for weeks off the memory of my gorgeous knight.

 Ogun State University is a big place and at that time, we had 4 campuses and I didn't know if I would ever run into Kunle again. Imagine my delight when I ran into Kunle at a canteen on campus. He looked really happy to see me too. He paid for my meal and we got talking. We talked for hours on end. We talked about family, upbringing, primary school, pets etc. We just talked and talked. I felt I had known him my whole life. We reluctantly said goodbye after he drove me to my hostel. That was the beginning of my ordeal in the hands of Kunle Odunlami. I rue that day.

Shortly after the soul search session, Kunle and I started dating. It was magical for the first 6 months; he convinced me to buy pots and pans and start going to the local market, he would come over and I would prepare meals for us, he would invite his friends and their girlfriends over and we would have dinner parties, he would spend the night and we would go to school together. We began to live like a married couple. He had been going on about sex for the longest time. Anytime he brought it up  I would  insist that I wanted to remain a virgin for my husband. He would laugh and say he was my husband anyways.

We had been dating for 6 months when it happened for the first time. He came back from school and he was very moody. I tried to find out what was wrong and he just yelled at me and I said I was just trying to help. That reply must have set him off cos the next thing I knew, he pounced on me, ripped off my panties and forced himself inside me. I was being raped by my boyfriend. Kunle forcibly took my virginity. I was too stunned to cry. When he grunted his last and rolled off me, I just laid there and stared at the ceiling. After 5 minutes, he got up, got on his knees and started crying and begging. It was the devil, he was very sorry. I was shocked out of my prone state as i stared at the sight of this grown man sobbingnlike a child died in his arms. Body wracking sobs. I started crying too and CONSOLING HIM! Imagine that. I was consoling him. The slimy bastard that just raped me.

This was just the beginning of my woes. Wo, my dears, we shall continue later.

*all names are not real names. I apologize if they are actual peoples' names or they bear any resemblance to people you may know.

Aristoism: The Rules of Engagement

Aristoism needs no introduction if you're naija born and bred. For my non-Nigerian readers, I shall elaborate. The term 'Aristo' is derived from the word 'Aristocracy'. In the Nigerian context, it is used to denote younger girls who exchange sexual favors for money with older, often times married men who are quote and unquote; the 'Aristos' cos they are supposed to have a considerable sum of money to be able to afford first class tickets, Peruvian Hair, Louboutin shoes or whatever catches the fancy of their young ward.

I have very strong views on the carryings on of Aristo girls and my views are of the despicable persuasion. But we not here to examine what I think about aristoism or partakers in aristoism . This blog though not dedicated to relationship talk solely, when it comes to addressing relationships, will address ALL types; the conventional and alternative alike. So don't stone me just yet, just doing my bit for society.

It has recently come to my attention that some aristo girls don't know what is what and befitting of an aristo girl. Seeing as some people are unaware of the etiquette of the business, I've consulted with veteran aristo friends and they've agreed that you need a few tips. This list has been endorsed by them so here are a few dos and donts of the trade. If you're into that sort of thing, this may help.

RULE NO 1: YOU ARE THE SIDE CHICK!

As obvious as this rule is, a lot of you, apparently don't seem to know this. You believe you are the same as his wife. No. You. Are. Not. You are the side chick. The same privileges do not accrue to you. Sometimes, side chicks get treated better than wifey but that is just the novelty factor. You are a shiny, new pet that he buys kibbles and bits for. You want a car? Blink of an eye, you got it. You want to go to jand? Shazzam! Business Class ticket. Novelty factor. Wifey has been at home for 20 odd years. She attends all the functions. All his bosses know her, his staff defer to her. Whenever they are out, she is addressed as Mrs. Aristo. She doesn't get stuffed in a cupboard when someone is passing by. She is not ignored in public or called his best friend's niece. She is the main woman. Lavishing you with his money does not give you the prestige she gets as his wife. Don't get it twisted. She's a bad mother *shut your mouth* cos she got your Aristo to put a ring on it. She is no one's side chick. And most men with an iota of common sense prefer to keep their side chicks secret from their wives. It is not necessarily because they don't like trouble, it is mainly because wifey is a ride or die chick and they know it. You're only there for the money but if the money is no more, wifey knows how to turn a bowl of garri into a sumptuous meal and get on with the program. So, no, you're not the same as her. Your reverse cow girl is not bad enough to get him to leave his wife. Don't get me wrong, he loves that you're a freak and he will pay handsomely for it, but however long it takes for him to go home to wifey, he is STILL going home to wifey. Heard of the 80/20 rule? Well, you're 20, she's 80. She can simuultaneously rock a bad ass home cooking, whilst scolding kids, whilst managing home finances, house hold staff,etc. He knows you can drop it like its hot but that's about it. So what if she's stuck in the missionary ages? She has other important roles that you could never fill. So know your role

RULE NO 2: KEEP WIFEY'S NAME OUT OF YOUR MOUTH

He may complain about wifey to you from the moment he sees you till the moment he leaves. That does not give you the right to interject with little catty comments of your own. Men have a very warped sense of justice. Cos he's doing wifey dirty does not entitle you to disrespecting her. That's the mother of his kids dammit and you loose some brownie points for your loose and bitchy talk. He is the ONLY person allowed to talk smack about his wife. When you interject, he remembers that she's Saint Wifey and you're the Dirty Devil and he can't wait to leave to make amends. That's when you see wifey the next day sporting a bad ass X6. It is cos you just pricked his guilty conscience and he needed to do something to cleanse himself. You're only allowed to say one thing : baby you're so stressed, come here let me 'lub' your back. Period!

RULE NO 3: GREEN IS NOT YOUR COLOR

I feel girls that do this should be nailed to a tree and flayed to within an inch of their lives. You, a side chick, gets mad and jealous when your aristo has another side chick. Are you kidding me??? You are an amusement and you're mad that he's bored with playing with you? If he didn't feel he was missing out on something, he wouldn't have decided to step out on wifey. I've heard someone say with the way she was dropping it on her aristo, there was nothing else he was looking for with another woman. First of all, heifer, YOU ARE ANOTHER WOMAN. Secondly, sure you have a few tricks, but as the world keeps evolving, badder, younger girls are embracing this 'trade' with gusto. Yes you can rock a mean doggy but are you double jointed with the ability to do a full split on nothing but a chair? Then you're not bad enough. Suck it up. Lastly, if you're all jealous and possessive, what, pray tell, do you expect wifey at home to do? She should have smoked you out with one hot prayer or jazz (whichever one is up her street) by now. So take your big girl pills and learn to share the stolen meat.
Some of you are even jealous of the wife at home. SMH for you o. And you let your jealously lead you to calling the wife or trying to jazz her or whatever. One advice, some wives are not the sit down and cry at home types. They are super crazy and if voodoo is your thing, prayer may be hers or even stronger voodoo. Don't get beaten up or loose your life over another woman's husband.

RULE NO 4: WHAM! BAM! THANK YOU MAM!!

Aristo is not your boyfriend. You are not dating. You are merely in a commercially beneficial relationship. Commerce is defined as the exchange of goods and service for money or money's worth. So, you are providing a service that Aristo pays for in cash, kind and every which way. There is no room for feelings here. No falling in love or anything stupid cos you will get your ass hurt and have no one to blame but yourself. Here's a secret that has been learnt over time; very rarely do these men leave their wives for you. You've heard of so and so's roommate whose Aristo left his wife of 40 years for. Well, the lucky binsh is the exception not the rule. Nobody is leaving their wife for you. Don't do the pregnancy trappy thing either. All you're going to get for your troubles is a free trip to the abortion clinic. Your life is not an African Magic Yoruba movie where the chief has been looking for a child for 30 years and can't wait for you to deliver the child that will inherit all his companies (but if it is, congratulations) so get your head in the game.

RULE NO 5: NO MANAGEMENT OPPORTUNITIES

A lot of you swear that it was dire financial straits that led you Aristoism in the first place. Yeah, ok, we believe you. I'm not saying the straits were not dire, I just think they were not as dire as you'd have us believe. Anyways, that aside. So if you're in it for the money, why all the managing? I don't encourage the trade, but I would like to think that if I was to travel that route, I would want to pole vault to the top. I don't get Aristo girls whose lives are not the better for being Aristo girls. If you've gone to a man's house and spent 48 hours and he has washed you every which way like tie and dye cloth, you deserve a substantial pay out. You're not in the business of charity. You're in the business of sex. You leaving with 10k at the end of the night #epicfail. UE remember that your friend whose Aristo could not afford to rent her a place even though she had relocated for him? What was his plan? To come and groove her on the side of the road or in her car when she's homeless? I loved the way you handled that btw. I never did tell you. UE, my darling friend, asked the girl if her purpose for moving to Abuja was to count bridge. The man comes to nab the babe morning, noon and night, she has taken on more duties than the life of leisure she signed on to live dictates, he's treating her as a stand in for his wife and yet, this cheap bastard wouldn't give her enough money to cover her rent. Your job is not to manage with him. That's wifey's job. Since you're not getting a ring, there's no need for the management. I read somewhere that poor men shouldn't get hard-ons. As far as Aristos go.....well....AMEN!

RULE NO 6: TWITTER IS THE AGENT OF THE DEVIL

Social networks are not your friends, at least, not if you want to get married at some point. The wise Aristo girl is one who keeps her shady dealings on the DL. You spurn the advances of guys in your class, guys your age, neighborhood guys etc. You're too involved with the older men. These guys see these men coming to pick you up in fancy cars. You think you're building up a reputation as a 'big girl' instead, you're being sloppy and indiscreet. These men are not going to marry you and you've ruined yourself for the guys that might. This problem is more compounded by the ability to update statuses and post little soundbites on twitter. Twitter was all a-twitter a couple of months back when two very stewpid unilag girls and their equally brainless friends washed, aired and re-wore their Aristo laundry in public. The effect won't be felt just yet, but trust me, hindsight is an evil cow that likes to bite people in the ass.

RULE NO 7: DON'T BE GREEDY

Money is the appeal. You know it, he knows it. He knows you don't like him, let alone love him. How could you? He looks like that toad baddie in Danger Mouse. So he's going to try to bewilder and befuddle you with money. He will give you 200k just for giving him a blow job. This will obviously excite you and you will begin to wonder what you will get if you finally sleep with him. Greed leads you to do the do and afterwards, he gives you 10k. #failing. See your life finish? That, by the way was a true story. I'm not naming names. So try and pace yourself. A lot of money now does not mean he's setting a precedent for the future.

RULE NO 8: AIDS NO DEY SHOW FOR FACE

As an off-shoot from the aforestated, you need to be on top of your health game. If this is your lifestyle, you are in what they call "the at-risk" category and coming into contact with diseases is an occupational hazard. Sex itself is a gamble. Now you're doing it with a man who was careless enough to step out on his wife and who you don't know how many other heifers grace his bed. No amount of money is worth your life in the end. There are other risks like your breasts nestling in a calabash in some jazz house but at least, the health bit is in your control. Condoms save lives. Take care of yourself.

RULE NO 9: PAYBACK IS A BITCH

Be prepared to have the same (if not worse) happen to you. You spent your youth sleeping with other women's husbands, it is bound to happen to you and when it does, abeg cool down cos we know that your body too dey hot.

Those are the Aristoism Rules of Engagement. Hate or love them? Leave me a comment. I will be happy to shoot the breeze with you on this topic.