Obsessive Compulsive Bridal Disorder

                                                                    

I don't dream about my wedding. I have no fantasies of a white fluffy dress, enormous bridal party or decor color.



Until a few weeks ago, I never really thought about the fact that I never thought about these things. I think somewhere in the back of my mind, I always just assumed that I would cross that bridge when I got to it. Then one day, a couple of friends came over to mine for a visit. We had been chatting about everything and anything, when one of them remarked at some point very casually that she had been looking at samples of Wedding card invites. I blinked slowly, because as far as I knew she wasn't even in a relationship.



"Oh really?" I said. "Er, why's that? Are you helping someone out with some wedding planning?" I asked. She shrugged just as casually, "No actually. I'm planning mine". I literally fell to the floor at this point. "How exactly does that work?" I wondered out loud.



"Oh I already have my cake designer and venue picked out" My other friend added. At this point I was thinking to myself 'What?'. "Now come on" I tried to reason with them "don't you think your missing something in all this?". My first friend stared at me "What?" she asked. "A groom!" I said exasperated. "How on earth can you be planning a wedding when there's no groom? That cannot possibly be normal behavior!"



They both stared at me like I had grown a third arm. "I've had my wedding planned for ages" the first one said "Gosh Mimi how could you have never thought about yours? That is so weird" At that, they went on discussing the benefits of a simple and elegant design over something more elaborate and choose to ignore me completely for the next few minutes.

The thing is this. I suppose when I was about five or six years old, with a couple of weddings under my belt in which I featured as a flower girl, I was completely enamored as most girls that age are with the idea of wearing a huge, white princessy dress. Similar, I believed to what Cinderella wore to the ball. Brides appeared to me to be almost regal. They were treated specially and even got to wear a tiara. Yes, back then I thought it was major cool. You see a wedding dress was really just a more ornate version of my 'Church' dresses with their puffy sleeves and yards of tulle underneath. How many girls remember playing that game when you spun around as fast as you could to see how high your dress would twirl. No one? Erm, well, me neither. But see the point is this, eventually, I grew up. Then, it took my going wedding dress shopping with someone close to me some years ago to make me realize that it really was just a dress, sometimes with way too many frills, that happened to be white (or off white as the case may be).

Some people take things like planning for a wedding way to seriously in my opinion. Sometimes, they’d be way better of making plans on how to stay married as opposed to simply getting through the wedding. A while ago, I watched a special on TV about the most expensive celebrity weddings, there was lots of pomp and glamour trust. Alas, as of the time the program aired, more than 70% (I kid you not) of the couples featured had split up.



Sometimes, the wedding attire I see in Nigerian weddings amuse me no end. I am amazed that a full grown man would agree to be dressed in a “Honey Blond”-saw that in a real wedding invite shirt and, slightly comical looking lemon green bowtie. On a normal day, said heterosexual male would probably not be caught asleep partaking in this season’s color blocking trend. But somehow, it is deemed to be appropriate wedding attire.



A couple years ago, there was this weird trend where people called colors and expected their guest to show up dressed in the required hue. A woman once complained about searching for shoes and a bag to match the odd color combination chosen by the couple for a wedding she had been invited to. She seemed to be at her wits end. I don’t really blame her. Can you imagine walking into a boutique in Naija and asking the sales girl for a terracotta and blush pink colored dress. She’d probably send you half way across town to their imaginary second shop simply to spite you for wasting her not so precious time.

All this stress to show up half way through the wedding reception, because in Nigeria, no one who isn’t on the bridal train or a parent of the couple shows up for the actual marriage ceremony in the church. After dancing a few with the couple while spraying them with naira notes, drinking copious amounts of the fluids of your choice and ‘snapping’ one or two pictures. You are off home early, especially if it took place in Lagos seeing as you have to beat the traffic and all. A significant amount of your hard earned money having been spent on ‘Aso ebi’ and Tailors fees.

I apologize if I do sound a bit cynical. I enjoy a good party like anyone else. I occasionally feel the desire to mingle and socialize and have a few laughs. I just think some girls, who know themselves if they ever get round to reading this post need to chill, relax on their Obsessive Compulsive Bridal Disorder (OCBD) and actually find a man before they actually make down payments on their dream reception venue. If you are one of my (OCBD) friends and you’re reading this and you think you, may be the person I’m referring to, it’s probably not you. Then again, it just might be, I guess you’ll never really know.

So, until the next time I feel an urge to mull or rant. I leave you all in peace.

Cheers

Random Gists

For as long as I can remember, I have always intensely disliked Poetry. I only ever read it if it was really funny and witty and quite clevery written. For the most part, I just didn't get it. I also didn't get poets, why were they always so moody? How could they say so much in just a few words? and how on earth were they able to make every other word rhyme so cleverly? I was suspicious of them. Maybe I didn't like Poetry because I was so horrible at it, but then again, maybe I was so horrible at it beacuse I didn't like it. Like the chicken and Egg debate, It's one of those questions that we will never really know the answer to.

In the past couple of weeks though, something a bit strange has been going on. In my quiet time, while meditating, I found that I was expressing myself in the place of prayer through poetry. Very weird. I didn't really get it. I still don't. As I sit here typing this post, it suddenly struck me that God does indeed have a serious thing for music, so maybe that was where it's all been coming from. My spirit connecting with His and finding itself pulled in that direction. In fact, the morning after I heard an awesome sermon about understandfing my identity, I sat down and actually wrote down what my heart poured out. It honestly wasnt as bad as I feared. Maybe i'll share it on this blog one day. Maybe. I'm still having a hard time reconcilling the idea of me as a *cough* *splutter* dare I say it? Poet. We'll see how it goes.

In other news, denial is indeed a terrible thing.

The state of mind I mean. Not the river in Egypt. A few days ago, I had to wake up and face the fact that I had been in denial for a few months now about certain habits. Certain eating habits to be precise. I think that when you have your Shawarma dudes' number practically on speed dial, you can no longer claim to only indulge in the cholestorol packed albeit highly satisfying treat only occassionally. Also, a pack of Maltesers and Cake should never be substituted for dinner. Never. So last week when the zip on one of my pencil skirts split open as I was trying to put it on, I convinced myself that I had tugged on it just a bit to hard. Prior to that, when my favorite skinny jeans were just a bit, okay, I admit way too snug when I slipped into them for a movie/dinner date with friends, I told myself it must have shrunk seeing as i'd just had it washed, but on then Sunday when I realised that I could barely button up the jacket of my Suit as I prepared to rush out the door in order to make the early morning worker's prayers session, I could no longer deny the ovbious. I had gotten fat.

Like gravity and Madonna's plastic surgery it was a fact that could simply not be denied. So now, I've decided to do something about it. Starting with replacing chocolate with fruit, eating more protein and doing away with fizzy drinks altogether. I'll beat the battle of the bulge, so help me God, and a few months from now, all this will be history, even if a slightly embarrasing one. If only the prices of fruits hadn't almost doubled recently due to the fasting season. Oh well, a pineapple is still way cheaper than a chick whizz no matter which way I look at it. I can do this, Yes I can.

If however all my good intentions disappear faster than civil servants seconds after official closing hours, I suppose I could always declare a fast. Fourteen days of nothing but clear spring water ought to do the trick. No?

See you all on the Skinny(er) side of life.

Cheers

He Speaks: The Truth about Male Emotions

So today, I have another guest male blogger for the ‘He Speaks’ series, Aniekan of The Rabbit Hole of my Mind. I bumped into Aniekan at a small dinner party in a mutual friend’s house. As is usually the case where there is good food and plenty of light banter, I ended up having quite an interesting conversation with a few people, including him. During which I discovered that he had a refreshingly candid way of expressing his opinions. Upon learning that we were both bloggers, he paid a visit to mine during which he stumbled upon THIS post the result of which is his post below. I thought it was quite interesting when I read it and decided to share it with you all. Enjoy.


If there’s one thing that I’ve learnt over the last couple of months, it’s that there is always a constant need for re evaluation of who we are, of what we believe and of our goals. Without this, we would be stuck in a never ending loop of falsity and a reliance on the past, forgetting that that’s what it is THE PAST. In the quest for re evaluation, reappraisal and redefinition, one element is key- TRUTH. Truth has the power to take you from where you are, to where you were designed to be. I always tell my friends: you may not always tell the truth, but make sure you KNOW the truth. About who you are, what your weaknesses are, why you believe the things you do. As I experience life in a new gamut of complexities, I find that it becomes easier to lose yourself in the lies that the world so conveniently makes available. The Truth is our only link to reality.


Ok, now that I’m done with the premise let’s get down to the ‘koko’ of today’s post. Before I start however, let me apologize to whoever this may offend. I’m deeply sorry.


In the spirit of the truth, I have come to realize that over time, for reasons I’m yet to understand, social constructs have made us believe that the more resilient of the Homo sapiens are the males. Women have been tagged the weaker sex, largely because of their predisposition to emotions and all that. This, I think, is a warped idea. I have come to understand that regardless of where you are from, the one thing that ties humanity together is the fact that we all are emotional beings. And in a sense, those beings are the real people. Every other thing is an outfit that we put on to clothe or hide our true natures. Menfolk have constantly sought to downplay and sometime relegate their innate fragility and have rather exploited the very same thing in the opposite sex. To a large extent, it has worked! Decades have passed, and we have slowly believed the subtle notion that women are the emotional crop; that emotions are destructive, unproductive and irrelevant….RUBBISH.

You disagree? Then why are men (though not all) scared of commitment? I think it’s because commitment opens you up emotionally. Why is it that the only way to truly wound a man is to wound his pride? Why is it that no matter how hard a man pretends to be, when he’s with the woman he loves, he becomes a totally different person? Why do they cry over football matches? You have every right to hold an opposing opinion if you so desire, but in all of this, let TRUTH prevail. Even if it cannot come out of your mouth yet, develop the wonderful ability of telling yourself the truth.

As a new crop of men continue to spread like wildfire, taking over wasted lands and restoring the dignity of Nigeria and the world as a whole, as we become the upgrade for an increasingly obsolete world, let truth guide us. Earlier when I mentioned the role of truth in re evaluation and redefinition, I meant allowing the truth about our very natures to act as catalysts in upgrading us to what I have called the NIGERIAN 2.0.

With respect to emotional sensitivity, I believe that it helps you connect with everyone around you. It helps you hear what you wouldn’t with your ears, see what you couldn’t with your eyes and touch what you can’t with your hands- lives! I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that if as men, we learn to accept this truth about ourselves, we would be better boyfriends, better fathers, better friends, better leaders, better people, deeper lovers, deeper followers, deeper worshippers, deeper thinkers.


We would birth limbo the emergence of a new breed, The NIGERIAN, Version 2.0. This is especially important for the men since we have overtime conditioned ourselves to shut out that integral part of our lives. I may not be able to totally transfer all that I have in my head…no, my heart, concerning this matter. I however hope that the spirit is understood. For too long, we may have missed out on some of the most beautiful aspects of our relations with others simply because we have been wary of looking ‘weak’…


Once again, I don’t claim to have all the answers, but these are my thoughts…what are yours?

Cultural Expressionism

Earlier this year, some of my new years’ life resolutions included; to drink more water, to be more about family, and to become a lot less cynical.  Now, I can easily chug down more H20 and put up with the most grating family members, no problem. However, to let go of my cynicism on the other hand, ah, now that is a different matter all together.

It’s the young Nigerian in me you see.  Now as an individual, I really do feel like I am quite a positive person, I am a person of faith; I tend to see the glass as half full, etecera, etecera. However, in certain circumstances, it seems I become a typical Nigerian and revert to a cynical stance when presented with certain situations.

Once upon a time, if anyone had accused me of being an impetuous Nigerian, I’d have denied it vehemently. As far as I knew, I wasn’t particularly, bold, brash or aggressive, I dislike confrontation and I keep my voice down when speaking on the phone. But you see, apparently, none of these matter.  This is because it appears that, the true test of a real Nigerian lies not in his/her capability to walk into a place and immediately take charge, but in one’s ability to intrinsically react in a specific manner when confronted with certain obstacles and/or circumstances.  

Case in point.

One day, I went shopping with my mother.  Exhausted with all our mall hopping and traipsing around, we decided to stop by a little restaurant on a street corner run by some people of Middle Eastern descent. As we stood waiting for our take away order to be brought to us. One of the owners/workers walked up to me and asked:

“So where you from?”  

Me: Why?

“Oh nothing, I just ask. You African hmm?

Me: Quite possibly, where are you from?

“Syria (Or somewhere like that, can’t really remember), you Kenyan? You look like Kenyan or Ethiopia

Me: So I’ve been told, but why do you really want to know?

“I just ask, why do you not answer? You always ask question!”

I laughed, our food was brought out soon after and we paid and left

I was amused to realize that I had just acted like a typical Nigerian, answering a question with another question.  This was one stereotype I had never thought I conformed to personally, but I had just proven my self wrong. The second I found myself placed in the right situation, under the right conditions, I ‘went Nigeria’ without the slightest hesitation. I simply couldn’t help it, it was almost like a reflex action.

It led me to begin to think about why exactly we (Nigerians) behave in this peculiar manner. I imagine it has something to do with the fact that we are in general quite a suspicious bunch. The Nigerian society can be such a dog eat dog world. The economic and political terrains are rough, and this has translated into certain attitudes in our social interactions and conduct.  As a people, we have experienced and sometimes taken part in all kinds of dodgy behavior all in a bid to survive; we have seen the ugly side of humanity and know exactly what the man next to us might be very capable of doing. So, when someone comes up to you and starts to ask questions, you antenna goes up, you immediately begin to think, why does this person want the information they are trying to get out of me? What exactly is their agenda? Should I freely pass out this info  or not? We immediately begin, whether consciously or otherwise an attempt to ascertain if we should put up our protective/defensive guard or not. We do this to friends and foes alike, but more so when the person is a stranger.

We are a highly populous nation.  As in any country with a large population, competition for resources and desirable commodities is fierce.  As such we are highly competitive people who have become used to the notion of survival of the fittest. We take this aggressively competitive attitude every where with us, and use it as a strategy for survival even in circumstances where it is hardly required.

Another case in point.

When ever I find myself in a public place that requires customers to queue in order to be serviced, I inevitably end up witnessing on or two ‘shunters’ . For those who may be unaware, “shunting” is the act of jumping the line on a queue. Nigerian’s in general are serial shunters.  I really think it all comes back to our spirited nature, used to the idea that if you play ‘mugu’ (dummy) you may just find yourself being overlooked in favor of ‘sharper’ people. This is an appendage of what I like to refer to as the “Hustle or Die” mentality.  I once had a man practically dive in front of me so he could get to the ATM machine I was headed for before me. Never mind that there was no queue and we would both easily be done in a few minutes either way.  I was amused, and before I could stop it my over active imagination immediately began to conjure images of the kind of household I was sure he must have grown up in. 


One with Mama, Papa and about fifteen Pikins (children) all rushing to the table the second it was announced that dinner was ready. It was the kind of house where the kids said grace with one eye open, lest their precious pieces of meat disappear down the throats of more watchful siblings, a home where you had to fight your older brothers for the right to scrape off the bottom of the stew pot. When you grow up in that kind of house hold, you end up being the kind of adult who finds hustling as natural as breathing or taking a bath. It’s interesting really.

It may seem like I’m digressing a bit, but the family I described above is in a way an analogy for the Nigerian society. We get so used to struggling that it has become an extension of our national personality. What’s the way forward? I’m not sure I have the answer to that question. You see that really wasn’t my aim when I started this write up. I was simply trying to explain why I may find it a bit of a challenge to stop being so cynical. It’s a part of the Nigerian in me. In fact, I daresay it is a form of cultural expression, akin to tying a wrapper and speaking a traditional dialect. Neither of which I am deeply sad to say I do particularly well.

Cheers  

He Speaks: A Love Struck Point of View

I just thought i should do a little intro to this post. I know this blogger personally and can honestly say that he is one of the most intense and deepest people i know. I wasn't surprised while reading what he wrote below, because that's the kind of person i have always suspected him to be.  I was excited when he decided to share a bit of his story with me. I knew when the wooing process was going on, thanks to his frequent and delightfully emotional status updates at the time on BBM and was silently rooting for him the entire time. I was thrilled when i saw that he'd finally gotten together with his dream girl. Now, lemme step aside so you all can hear from him: 

One of the good things about having friends who write is the fact that they sometimes encourage those of us who have forgotten the joy of writing to rediscover it. A big thank you goes out to Mimi Barber for encouraging me to write again. I would also like to say that I am honored to be asked to be a guest blogger on “My World as I See It”. To understand the reason for this post, you may have to go back and read some of my older writings on My 2 Kobo (sorry Mimi, just had to plug my blog in here :-D). You see, I had a bit of a struggle a while back with the issue of loving and being loved. Let’s just say the sea of my emotions was quite turbulent at the time. All that ended when I decided to leave everything in God’s hands and let Him “take the wheel” so to speak. Several months down the line, I can confidently say I have a testimony and the woman He has prepared for me is now part and parcel of my life. In other words, I am truly, madly, deeply in love with the most amazing girl. I can’t really go into details of how I wooed her and failed miserably at first. All I can say, is when I finally “let go and let God”, things happened in a way that even I cannot really explain.

Mimi has asked me to talk about how it feels to be in love from a man’s point of view. Well, I am not sure I can actually describe the feeling. All I know is I have finally found someone who completes me, who makes every effort to understand me and is perfectly willing to take me “as is” (all major flaws included). Never mind the fact that I met her in January, 2010 and we didn’t start a relationship until May, 2011. The wait was worth it. Looking back, I realize that I was not prepared to love someone in that capacity at the time. I obviously thought I was and became very frustrated at my lack of success in wooing her in record time but now I understand why God made me wait. One can never know the true meaning of love until it is truly experienced and I must confess that I am just now learning the true meaning of the word.

The people around me tell me there’s something different in my countenance. I smile a lot more, I’m no as easily irritated as I used to be and I am generally less inclined to curse danfo drivers and okada riders on the road. I find that I am now more focused on putting things in order so that I can claim my bride as soon as possible. I am saving a lot more money and doing financial planning for two instead of one. These were things it never occurred to me to do even when I thought my last relationship would end in marriage but they come so naturally now and I surprise myself sometimes. For the first time, I have been able to discuss the issue of marriage with my father and not come away feeling like I don’t know what I’m doing which is a significant development me. In short, I am constantly seeking advice and looking for ways to better myself so I can be the man, she deserves to marry.

I know all this is not what one would expect to hear when people talk about love. I decided to deviate from most of the “mushy” stuff and talk about reality. I am doing the things any real man should do in order to be prepared to take care of the woman God has given him. Above all else, I am seeking God’s face because the woman I love has so hidden her heart in Him. I had to seek Him first to find her and now that I have, I do not intend to lose her by straying from Him. “Husbands, love your wives, even as Christ also loved the church, and gave himself for it;” Eph 5:25. Christ loved the church unconditionally and sacrificed Himself for her. How many of us men out there would give our all for the woman we love? I intend to be an example of sacrificial love when it comes to my wife-to-be. I intend to care for her more than I care for myself. I intend to honour her above all men. In that way, I will earn her love and respect she shows me the way a real man should.

I am sure I will be posting a lot more writing about the lessons I am learning through courtship even into marriage. Incidentally, my girl also writes and we may even co-author some posts for your reading pleasure in the near future. For now, you can check her out at Hit n Run Mullings (sorry again Mimi, had to plug her too). That’s all for now. Stay blessed and thanks for stopping by.