Letters to my Greatgrand Daughter: Your Inner Samurai
This is a letter about being the bigger man. Earlier today*, someone responded to a question I had asked on a social media platform with a remarkably snide remark. Instantly, I took off my earrings, and took my Taekwondo butterfly kick stance. I was ready to attack. I couldn’t believe the number of sarcastic, so-in-context retorts that flooded my head. They were so good, I think I shivered a little.
So good....
Dear Charly,
This is a letter about being the bigger man. Earlier today*, someone responded to a question I had asked on a social media platform with a remarkably snide remark. Instantly, I took off my earrings, and took my Taekwondo butterfly kick stance. I was ready to attack. I couldn’t believe the number of sarcastic, so-in-context retorts that flooded my head. They were so good, I think I shivered a little.
So good.
Then I stopped. As a (new) rule, I never attack immediately. I wait. Hold my breath and then let it out. Once again, hold that breath, let it out. I close my eyes. I imagine the sun is shining on my face and I let the battle drums fade into the background. Harps play instead—this part takes a while. I think about the consequences. Today, that incident made me think about what I represent. I asked myself what I’d advice someone else to do.
Overlook it, I'd say. Overlook the offense. It's not worth it. Your future is impeccable, your path is sterling. Don't play around in cyber mud.
It was hard. It is hard—doing the right thing. It’s hard to be already half -suspended in the air, arms spread out like wings, ready to flick that ankle and kick her in the mouth, all calculated. No chance of a miss.
Deep exhale.
I let it slide.
The next time someone ticks you off so much that the only thing they apparently deserve is a fine whack, a polished lecture, a sweet piece of your mind. Don’t dish it.
Offer mercy instead.
They may not deserve it. I know, but life is crazy, in a few hours, you may be in need of mercy, yourself. You wouldn’t want someone to unleash their inner-Samurai on you. Would you?
Love,
GreatGrand x
*written two months ago.
Real Stories #1 : Heartbreak and Bathroom Tiles
Part 1 : Fairy Tales
I had always been a relationship-type of girl. I don’t think I could go two months without having a boyfriend.
Not that I couldn’t be on my own, I was just a hopeless romantic and I “fairy-taled" all my boyfriends, (yes, even the drug-dealing one), until I met my own version of a Universal demon, forget Yoruba now.
He was a grade A Universal demon.
Tunde* was everything I wished for, a good-looking, well-mannered Christian. He was great at his job, could make me laugh for days, and we just clicked.
It wasn’t long before he told me he loved me, and boy, did I sleep with a huge grin and butterflies flipping my insides out with joy that night.
Now usually in relationships, I try not to get too attached, especially with family members. In fact, I avoid family members just so it’s easier to let go if things go south, that way no extra emotional drama pops up.
With Tunde, I was all in. I met the folks after about 2 months of dating him, then his siblings. They were so welcoming and when a deeply traditional family accepts you (especially the mum and sister); you have crossed the rainbow bridge of judgement (phew!). His family loved me, and I slowly warmed up to them. We went on family trips and dates together, his mum was fantastic and treated me like her last-born!
A year later, we were both over-seas for postgrad and we were in a long distance relationship. We worked really hard at the relationship. LDR wasn’t going to kill what we had. We spoke all the time, we tried to see each other every other month, or 2 months.
At the end of my program, I submitted my thesis and I decided to move to his city and be closer to him, while I hunted for a job.
One night, I get a call from my friend. She was crying and terrified that she had gotten an STD from her boyfriend, who clearly wasn’t faithful to her. I was on the phone with her for an hour. Tunde was with me and heard the context of the conversation.
I get off the phone and go on a rant about how every Naija guy wants a good girl, but they get one and can’t even treat the girl right. I’m so pissed off. I’m ranting and he just keeps looking at me, calming me down. He leaves for a minute, then comes back and tells me to sit down.
Much calmer now, I sit and I’m waiting for what he has to say. He looks at me and says ‘I need to tell you something.’ My heart sinks, but I don’t let it show.
What’s happening?
My heart starts racing, the 6 words usher in confusion and I’m on a guessing marathon of all the things that it might be. He starts talking and I hear those 4 magical words. No, not “Will you marry me?”
Instead he says, “I cheated on you”…… then everything just sort of goes blank. He keeps talking and I cut in, “Is she pregnant?” I ask.
“Yes.”
Part 2: Bathroom Tiles
I’m on the bathroom floor, locked in, in shock, numb, can’t move, at 11pm on a cold winter night and then the tears start. They start and won’t stop.I can’t even remember what I was feeling then, but I must have cried for hours, staring at the white tiles.
According to his story, his story, because that’s all it will ever be, this happened 6 months ago and it happened once. 6 months ago I was writing my final papers, practically sleeping in the library, strung up on coffee and you were screwing some girl you met at the gym, just great.
I leave the next morning, but I leave a completely different person.
I don’t think people who cheat realize how damaging it is. I think the worst thing about being cheated on for me was the shame. The shame to your friends, the shame of not noticing it, the shame of believing in a lie but mostly, the shame to yourself. It destroys you emotionally, eats at your self-esteem and your psyche.
I went through so many thoughts and yoyo- emotions from maybe I wasn’t good enough, maybe I wasn’t great in bed, maybe I became boring, maybe I should have been less this or more that. The “maybes”, “whys” and “what if’s” keep you awake at night wondering why Ursula (no jokes, she looked like Ursula from the Little Mermaid) could even be attractive to him and how many Ursula’s there were, which germs did he give you from the Ursula(s).
The family detachment was hard as well, he is their son after all, so they have to stand by him (see why I don’t do the family thing). Just a toxic mess of my fairytale.
Flash-forward to now, I look around me and see even worse happening to people. My story is child’s play compared to what some people go through.
When I ask people why they cheat, there never seems to be a reasonable answer…. Ever.
It’s still a mystery, the cheating thing… like isn’t it better to break up with the person and be free to bed hop. Some people told me to stay and forgive him, “Is it just ordinary cheating that is making you break up!” They said, “The fact that he told you himself means he is sorry.” Lol, society is fun!
Of course, I left him for good.
Dating after being cheated on, is fun too *dry chuckle*. My walls are so high that even when I like the person, I hold back. I found that guys don’t really have the patience to understand that it takes some effort to get me from behind my walls, they just move on at the slightest resistance.
I can’t blame them really, this isn’t “The Notebook”.
And while I still haven’t figured out what I am going to do about my love life, I’ve learnt to trust in God to bring the right person my way, its been almost 4 years now, fingers crossed he hasn’t been hit by a truck.
*not his real name
Disclaimer: This article was written by an anonymous contributor. Her views and opinions are entirely hers and do not necessarily reflect the views of PGI on this topic.
This is story #1 of the Dating Like Crazy series. Please note that this is a real story, please comment kindly. Thanks.
Useful posts: Get over him on a budget; The sunny-side of your breakup; How to find 'X'.
11 Spoilers for my 15 year-old Self
If I could meet my 15 year-old self, she would be in for a world of surprises, if only she knew. Of course, the ideal thing would be to give her good advise and have her make good decisions early on- and what better way to nudge her straight, than by feeding her life-spoilers, even though they would probably reduce the fun of her experiences by over 200%, hehe). Here are 11 spoilers I'd tell her:
On her identity crisis:
No, you will not be wed to Curtis Jackson also known as 50 cent (rme)
On her love interest at the time:
*Clears throat*, I don't see this guy in our future, not even remotely; like I don't even think you are friends with him on Facebook!
On her future ambitions:
What's a Facebook, you ask? Well....this is going to be good. Grab a pen. We are about to be very....very rich. While the world is still recovering from the "Y2K" supposed- apocalypse, buy a one-way ticket to California, there's this place called Silicon Valley............
On her opinion about mum not understanding her:
Summary: You and mum become best friends and then you literally start acting like her.
On her blind dedication to Arsenal FC:
*Static* Sigh. I would say give up but don't.
On her love for mono-sleeve blouses:
You didn't really think tops with just one full sleeve would stay, did you?
On her relationship with God:
You guys are like best buds and you begin to discover how much you both have in common
The Spoiler about the One:
His name starts with a consonant and a vowel! *insert everlasting mischievous laugh*
On sex:
Everything they say about it is true. It's thoroughly primordial and not cute, don't get hung up on trying to have it till you really should, with the right person.
On writing as a hobby:
Please don't shred and burn our diaries. Please....but I know you will, anyway. I know you don't want anyone knowing what goes on in your head but we write a blog, so there. Get over yourself.
On Self-respect and respect from others:
Respect from others is over-rated. The only respect you need is from us, me and you. Make decisions that make your future self (yours truly) proud of you and I'll ensure I make you proud too ♥️
What spoilers would you tell your 15 year-old self?
Letters to my Greatgrand Daughter: Fighting for Romeo
Dear Charly,
Everyone loves a good love story; and what's a good love story without the typical "I forbid you to ever see him again” ban? What your parents don’t know, is that those words, are the exact reason you’d see him again! Right? I know, isn’t life spicy?
Somewhere, somehow, at some time, we all get an opportunity to defend our decision to be with someone. It could be as uneventful as unsalted butter but usually, it’s a full-blown Romeo-and-Juliet type situation where the aforementioned ban is quickly enacted by the “authorities” and everyone gets weird and you burst out crying, and out the door, into a hypothetical garden, where you and your Romeo promise each other, that it’s you, both, against the world and you will overcome and all that good stuff.
I’m an advocate for romance, drama and garden-themed proclamations but i have to say- not all relationships are worth fighting for, not all guys are actually worth the trouble.
Think about it—ALL sentiments aside; discard the garden backdrop and the tears and ask yourself some questions.
Is he worth the fight? Wouldn't it be funny(or not so much) if you went to bat for him and in the end, he is, for lack of a better string of words, not the most decent of guys? Would he do the same for you? What are your values? What are his values? Do they converge? Do they diverge so much that they make a 180 degree angle? Are they parallel? Don't answer just yet and don't ask him. Observe him.
Discard also, the fact that he kisses like Adonis and that you literally become gooey pap, when he looks into your eyes.
Study him closely. It’s almost accurate, the vibes you’d pick up, if you listen- and i mean, really listen, to the words he speaks and the way he says those words; if you looked closely at him and if you prayed intently and seriously like your future depends on it- because it does. If you do this, you'll figure out if he's worth it.
Let's admit it, sometimes parents and third parties are right, parents particularly, it's like they can sense stuff we can't. Sometimes, not always. At those other times, it's their fear, talking.
I had an opportunity to defend my relationship once. I fought, of course, gladly too, because i loved to fight. It was a type of hobby. Anyway, then, i found out he was wasn't being honest (putting it mildly), a clown of a boyfriend he was, really(still putting it mildly). Those are not the types you fight for, nope, let those relationships go, let them slide into a sea of forgetfulness and don’t lift a finger to help them along. Just keep moving.
If he isn’t a clown boyfriend, then strap up your battle boots, baby.
To fight for your relationship, your mind has to be whole. First, remind yourself that it’s your life and whatever you decide, you have the pleasure of baring its consequences. Consequences, spooky, huh? i know. The decision to preserve a relationship, depicts maturity and integrity. Know that I'm proud of you, if you ever find yourself in this position. It means I raised someone who raised someone, who raised someone else well!
Second, understand that "Fighting” doesn’t have to be disrespectful or aggressive. It’s just an opportunity to state your decision to stay with this person, while also, implicitly or explicitly confirming your awareness of putting up with the responsibility that comes with the consequences (it’s that fun word again).
It helps when the person you are fighting for makes it worth it. That way, you can work as a teamin building the relationship, even if it's in the least conducive environment and you can be the Bonnie to his Clyde and sing your theme song in Jay-z's voice.
Make the right decision and do your homework. Consider both possibilities: Your advisers may be dead right or dead wrong. Figure out which it is, don't fight blindly without proof, get your hands dirty and knees scraped, digging for facts to vindicate(or not vindicate) Romeo. Too many times, we fail to do our research because we can’t see past the Adonis lips and the garden-cloud. Tsk.
Also make sure your fact-finding is unbiased with the aim of finding out the truth about this Romeo-Adonis- Clyde candidate. Pray about it, divine help couldn't come in handy enough.
I hope their suspicions are wrong and no evidence can be found to support them. In that case, it's time to stand and fight! *insert war cry*
Love,
Greatgran x
Fighting against romantic injustice since 2001. Hehe.
Related posts: I found the one and she's a she; why you don't deserve to be happy; The rolex effect.
Letters to my Greatgrand-Daughter: The Rolex Effect
“Direction is so much more important than speed. Many are going nowhere, fast”
Dear Charly,
Instant coffee. Fast food. Attention spans of eight seconds. ATMs. Quickies. These are features of the world I currently live in.
Nevertheless, amidst this deep-seated dependency on speed and the power of 'instancy', Rolex Société Anonyme takes out one year to make one Rolex watch.
One watch. Twelve months. Two hundred and fifty working days of piecing together each element, to make a time piece so perfect and flawless.
A baby born at the same time the first piece of a Rolex is assembled, could very well be weaned and walking by the time the Rolex is to be on the market. It's not a mass production effort and it goes without saying that you’d value a Rolex over a Casio (no offense, Casio). Rolex watches have a reputation for excellence, finesse, precision; qualities which you can see wasn't devised based on this urgency factor.
Take a cue from Rolex and resist the instancy factor, Charly. Soak yourself in self-improvement exercises and don't jump on the market until you are 'fit for all weather'. Get off the haste wagon and breathe. Take your time (but not forever) with everything; decisions, relationships, marriage, even chewing!
With relationships, there's no rush there, I must tell you. With your occupation, remember to take care of yourself first. With people, be patient and listen to what they are really saying.
In this fast world I live in, I have learnt to take my sweet time. I stop and breathe while others are moving. I brew my tea (sometimes). I chew like a snail, i make well-thought-out decisions (most times). I listen a little longer, my gaze lingers by a second.
Don't let the crowd drag you along in its frazzled haste. Rest. Watch. Laugh. Listen. Most importantly, work on your character. Become the best version of yourself. It might not take a year like a Rolex or it might. Either way, it makes you a better person and from that emanates the Rolex-effect; the natural aura of luxury and perfection.
Love,
Greatgran x
Previously published on old space.
Note to Self: Breathe