The morning after

This is wishing you all a happy new year in advance. May the peace, blessing and joy that comes with the season be with you and your household now and always.

The long silence can be perfectly explained as such, I apologize to all my ardent readers. It will however be unwise of me to let the year pass by without at least acknowledging you all, with that I say thank you for being there all through 2013. May 2014 be a more fruitful year for us all.

As much as I tried not to end this year with one of my tragic stories, that’s about what I came up with, having realized how important it is for us to reflect before stepping in to a new year.
I present “The morning after”, my end of the year story to YOU!. ‘Kisses always!

* * * * * *

It was obvious there was a fracture, but where exactly; she couldn’t fathom. Ada couldn’t move her neck, and as much as she tried to move her body too, the effort became futile. There was no movement for her, no merry making for anyone and there was definitely, no conversation. The room was blurry and she began to think there was something wrong with her eyes. It was silent, and she wished there was something wrong with her ears as well. She wanted someone… anyone… to talk; all to no avail. She tried hard to open her eyes, and there seated on the chair adjacent to her bed; crouched like a child that lost his toy, was Dotun… the love of her life; the father of her kids; the man, whose thoughts alone kept her alive on the sick bed. Ada kept her gaze on him, having figured he was the only person around her in the hospital. Dotun hadn’t left her bedside for hours and as much as she wanted to assure him she was going to be alright, she couldn’t. She slowly drifted back to the previous morning; the morning that life played a trick on her.

Ada tucked the children in properly, not forgetting to peck them before finally setting out. The nanny was home early enough, thanks to the extra pay she was getting that day. This was a trip Ada and Dotun had to make, even though neither of them was motivated to. She didn’t mind as she didn’t want his family’s final verdict that it was her who turned him against them even when his mother was said to be dying. Dotun tried to sweet talk her into making them postpone the journey, but Ada wasn’t hearing of it anymore. He had avoided his family members long enough since they didn’t bless his marriage or show up for his wedding because they claimed she was after his money. To her, the proposed journey was long due. To her, it was high time he forgave them. Ada let out a deep sigh as her husband gave her a warm hug before breaking free. She was doing it right this time… for her… for him… for their kids.

She heard another voice in the room, which brought her back to reality. It was the doctor, he had intruded the thoughts of her husband and children. The thoughts of the day she will always live to remember… The thoughts of the day that had kept her bedridden for hours. Ada tried to talk again, but she couldn’t. She watched her husband hurry to meet the doctor, and she listened intently to every word even though she found it hard to contribute. She heard the doctor say she was in a coma, in hushed tones… She heard him say she was going to be better after “the operation”… She heard him say he was going to try his best possible to keep her alive for the kids. She heard the last words…his final statement which threw her into total shock. She heard him say she needed to stay alive for the kids since her husband had died at the scene of the accident. She was confused and she tried to take a closer look at Dotun who was talking about being dead with the doctor. She confirmed her fears. It was her sister she had been looking at all along. She knew there was no way she could survive the trauma, her husband was gone… her backbone was gone… the only one that kept her alive on the sick bed. She thought about her kids this time, and let out a loud scream… A scream she heard only in her world.

This is just a story to reflect upon. We are not better than those that lost their lives to 2013; those that never knew they wouldn’t see a 2014. Those that had plans for the new year. RIP to those that wouldn’t get an opportunity to see a new year. May the rest of us continually receive God’s mercy!

@bilkisses

My Divorce

Happy new month to you my wonderful and ardent readers. Wishing you the best of this month and a blissful end of year. May we witness many more decembers to come in good health and wealth.

While you might be so engrossed with preparations for december celebrations, please don’t forget to place your cake orders from #cakesbykisses; it is one of the best offers you can get. A DM on twitter to @bilkisses is all you need to get your cakes at your doorstep; at affordable prices and quality products.

Enjoy #MyDivorce story. Much love and ‘kisses always.

* * * * *

I thought about all the musicians, carefully putting into account each of them’s stage performance I’ve either seen personally or watched on the TV. I thought about 2face in particular…that guy is just epic when it comes to live performances. Have you seen how he staggers like he’s high on expensive drugs? …or how he pulls the crowd along till the very end? You know that uniqueness in his voice, listening to him and at the same time, seeing him in person…or that feeling you get when he jumps down the stage to poke the person right in front of you… Actually enough of 2face’s dreams, he wasn’t the only one I thought about calling for my divorce.

I thought about the Mavin crew. I’m sure you’ll agree with me that don jazzy’s voice has some traces of codeine in it. Well, I sincerely don’t know the effect of that codeine, but his voice from the background…or it’s combination with the almighty Dbanj’s… Okay, I rest my case.

I thought about every other musician…the effect of the twins on stage. The effect of the wiz bro (yes, I called him a “bro” because… Well, he should actually be a bro). The effect of VEC, phyno, Chidinma, Omawunmi… But I just couldn’t get enough of my thought.

Then came the menu of the day. I thought about pounded yam…if you have ever eaten “pounded” yam, then you’ll understand me better. I thought about Amala (even though I’ve never tasted it); the thought of its flexibility overwhelmed me. I thought about jollof rice (those ones are just spectacular when made for parties). I thought about it’s fried equivalent, it’s coconut…it’s chinese. I think I’ll just skip the white. I thought about the eforiro soup (it’s just most of them don’t taste as nice as they look these days), the edikang-ikong, the ogbono, the ofe nsala. I thought about everything; then about the cakes. I decided my cakes would be from out of town. I thought about chocolate cakes (of how very quickly they melt into the mouth and then you crave for more). I thought about every edible… Small chops, fruits, coleslaw, drinks…etc. I thought about my divorce.

I didn’t remember my union; I couldn’t even explain it if I was asked to. I didn’t remember how I got involved in the first place, before the thought of a grand divorce came flying across. I didn’t remember the journey, and I sincerely didn’t want to. All I thought about was my grand divorce; the one that will once again free me from the unbearable union.

Yes, I envisaged a grand divorce; where even though the musicians refuse to turn up, my music library would give me the much needed joy. Talking about my music library, I thought about all the songs I had therein and figured it wouldn’t do the magic I really needed. I started to think again, to think about the divorce.

My divorce… So many to wine and dine on. There will be no invitation cards (I wouldn’t want to be selfish); everyone will be invited. I have to give gossips the privilege to carry first hand news. The ones that have never wished you well… The ones that always prayed you never went into a divorce (trust me, they don’t wish you well). The ones that always hoped you never realised you were even in a union. I thought about giving them lots to talk about. I thought about the side attractions… I thought about lots of souvenirs…I thought about the happy faces… the sad ones. I thought about all that I hoped for… All that I prayed to get. I thought about a grand divorce, the kind that will keep lips sealed for long.

This was about my divorce with the most humiliating factor in my life. The one that made me feel useless for long. The one that never made me stop feeling inferior. The one that instilled fear in me… The fear of being me… The fear of moving on… The fear of holding on to the good things of life. I thought about my divorce with unhappiness; it cannot win all the time. I cannot be destined to be sad. The unhappy feeling I get just when I’m about to make it in life…which shatters every main dream. I thought about my divorce with unhappiness yet again, and then I smiled…because for the first time in a long while, I will be free again. Free from all forms of sadness in my life; from all forms of fear. From the shackles of failure, the standstill of destiny, the abandonement of aquaintances. Unhappiness will not win this time because I intend to move on, to be happy again… happy to enjoy life the way I used to; happy to move on without the fear of hate. I intend to be happy… Just this time, it will last forever.

Have you had a divorce with unhappiness yet? Now is the time, you should wait no longer. I wish you everlasting joy in your life, now and always!

…And for my thoughts… Well, they ended up becoming just thoughts. Though now, I am as happy as can be.

#Onelove

@bilkisses

Wolf in sheep’s clothing 2

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#Enjoy the concluding episode of the true life story, #WolfinSheep’sClothing.

Since I met Temisan about a week ago, he begged me every minute he called to hang out with him. It was just a week but because I had told him I was travelling, he insisted we saw before I left as he wanted to get me a parting gift. It wasn’t my birthday, it wasn’t Christmas or the New Year as well, and it definitely wasn’t thanksgiving, so I insisted I wasn’t interested in whatever he said he felt like getting. He didn’t stop disturbing me though and the moment I mentioned I was travelling to Warri for a few days, he was quick to tell me he also had a reason to go there; and with that, we decided to finally hook up.

That Friday, exactly a week after we met in the bus, we met again at a random eatery. I wasn’t much of a food person, as such; I declined every request at the eatery. He told me he had to rush down in a cab as the mechanic was having his car fixed. He thus, decided to call “an aunt” to borrow her car; and with that, off to “aunts house” we went.

I was still recovering from the star-studded, unexpected slap I got on my right cheeks when Temisan gave me another on the left. I didn’t try to get up from the chair or defend myself; I knew there was nothing I could do. I wished silently that I had gone with my friend (I remembered mentioning that to him before visiting, and he dismissed the idea saying it wasn’t polite enough for a friend to tag along on a first date), and just as if he had a loop into my thoughts, he was fast to make me understand that he had “great plans” for my friend if she had been present. He threatened me to stop crying and gave me another slap on my neck. My heart skipped a beat; it couldn’t have been the half bottle of beer he gulped in my presence that made him hyperactive… Then, the mystery of the beer came back to me, unsolved. He was obviously in the same house before picking me up; or how else was I to explain the half-filled bottle of beer. There was no aunt and there was definitely no car. There was no nice Temisan, he probably had it all planned out right from the start having figured how gullible I appeared to be. He quizzed me with annoying questions; asking for my age, surname, house address etc. and I prudently answered every question. He demanded I emptied my hand bag and started helping himself to various useful items; pocketing my smart phone having asked where I saved his number. He also demanded to know how much money I had on me and with that, took my twenty thousand naira (not forgetting to give me #2,500 for my transport to Warri).

The music was so loud, I didn’t even think of shouting; I just prayed silently that he wouldn’t hurt me while I sobbed. He ordered me to undress; I was on my period, so I wasn’t really scared about being raped (I knew how dirty it was thought to be to have sex on one’s period). Then, he took me to the bathroom and asked me to clean up, taking off my panties. He walked me to the room and ordered I slept on the bed, while he undressed and I could immediately see his erection. I confessed I had never had sex before then, but all he did was threaten me to remain calm. He threatened to torture me if he figured I was lying to him and then, entrusted his huge penis into me (without any form of protection)… while he played with my boobs and raped me. I lay helplessly…hopelessly… sobbing. I remembered my parents who thought I was on my way to Warri… I thought about my two friends who obviously knew where I was headed but didn’t know my exact location… I thought about my boyfriend who I had a fight with the previous month because I didn’t want to lose my virginity yet to him… I thought about so many miracles, and just hoped for one to happen at that moment; but just as if I was been punished for something really bad, no miracle happened. When he was through, he ordered me to go clean up. I let the tears flow freely…

As much as I have tried to forget this ordeal, it just keeps lurking around. I’ve decided to share because I learnt that a problem shared is a problem half-solved. As I look back at the day, it has gradually dawned on me that I didn’t know the house he took me to… Yes, a low-cost government estate with all buildings looking very identical, thus making it difficult for me to know the exact house. My doctor assured me I’ll be fine… and though, I’m healed physically; I cannot seem to be emotionally stable. All I hope and pray, is that God heals me fast enough to move on. Pardon my insouciance; I know if I had taken a few minutes to check out his environment, I probably would have known his house. I know I have many faults in this, as the loose ends cannot be overemphasized; but please don’t judge me. Some of you will say I shouldn’t have trusted him to the extent of visiting him alone, having known him for only a week, but who would have thought such animals still existed. Some would say I shouldn’t have cut corners with my parents and gone somewhere else when I pretended to be going straight to the park for my journey, but let “he” that has never “sinned” cast the first stone. I probably would have been able to save others from this predatory and devilish act caused by Temisan and his likes had I been more conscious, and for that; I take the blame.

However, I plead on behalf of myself and others who have undergone this form of abuse, don’t judge us. The world will be a better place knowing fully well we wouldn’t be tagged “the raped” when we appear in public. May God never forget the likes of Temisan, and mete on them that which they truly deserve.

Anonymous.

Why should anyone ever want to #RAPE? Be less of an #Animal today!!! There is #NO justification for rape.

@bilkisses

Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing 1

Welcome back to “Tuesdate with Bilkisses”.

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Today’s story, a true life story; was narrated by a distraught “Miss X” who wishes to remain anonymous. As a result of it’s length, it will span for two weeks.
Please as much as I want you to enjoy this story, as is fast becoming accustomed with the posts on this blog, I implore you to peruse with the intent of gaining from her experience.

#Enjoy

As he drew the curtains together, I had the notion something was wrong. He closed the windows, switched on the air-conditioner and sat beside me. He connected his phone to the speaker and started with the jam of life. It was “Sars on the beat” with Wizkid, there was no standing still to the song. I started to nod and shake my head until I recalled what actually took me there and tried to be as calm as possible. He didn’t pay much attention to me, he just got “busy” with keeping the house in order. This was a guy who was supposed to take only a few minutes of my time to get the “car keys”; he went from only picking the car keys, to “warming up snacks” in the microwave. He then ventured into what seemed like the kitchen, came out with his half-filled bottle of beer and gulped it, not forgetting to undo his well buttoned down shirt while he left the empty bottle on the stool adjacent to me. I finally voiced out, enough of the good girl façade. I reminded him of how we needed to be in a hurry if we were still travelling together because I couldn’t imagine getting to Warri late. He smiled, not saying a word and then went over to where his phone was to increase the volume of the song playing.

Exactly a week ago, I took the public transport going from Cele express to Festac. It was one of mum’s errands to my aunts; but she had insisted she wasn’t giving me a cab fare, claiming I was getting too spoilt already. My puerility almost got the best of me, but bearing in mind that my aunt was definitely going to tip me; I got into my black high-waist jeans and a blue polo and took off.

It was the usual Lagos traffic; horns blaring… tyres screeching… and of course, hawkers advertising at the peak of their voices competing with the conductors that already had the perfect crooked voice. I was angry and nauseated; it was probably as a result of the patience I naturally lacked that I hated to take public transports. I would have chosen a keke NAPEP over the bus a thousand times over though, because of their very small size and manipulative structure. I however would have chosen a motorcycle over the keke NAPEP a zillion times over; those ones were naturally ignorant of the “traffic light”. I cursed the government under my breath as I sighed deeply, for eradicating the use of motorcycles; even though I knew it was for the best. Then, I readjusted to another very uncomfortable position; and this was where I noticed Temisan (as he later introduced himself). He handed me my Nokia torch-light phone that had mistakenly fallen off my laps while I was silently cursing. We got talking afterwards, trying to know each other better. The journey became less boring because he was fun to gist with, and before alighting, we exchanged numbers (giving out numbers to strangers was not my forte; he just appeared nice).

As I sat in Temisan’s sitting room imagining every possible occurrence, I remembered two of my friends knew I was with him (I had told them about him during the week while he persuaded me to visit) and so I relaxed a bit more into the chair. Just as I did, I saw something that looked like a star in the dark. It was accompanied by the sharpest pain ever; a pain I was fast to figure was a resounding slap. It immediately alerted my tear gland, producing a form of tears that very quickly gathered in my eyes. I tried to fight it back, leaving my eyelids tightly closed for a few seconds. It hurt so badly, I struggled to regain consciousness; and standing above me, ready to give me a second slap was Temisan, his empty beer bottle carefully placed in his other hand as if he was ready to also hit me. I was too shocked to speak, his demeanour had totally changed. This was not the cute, tall Temisan I met in the bus the previous Friday; it definitely also wasn’t the Temisan that whined me while he sought for my number. It couldn’t have been the sweet-voiced Temisan who spoke to my friends on the phone saying he couldn’t wait to meet them; and it definitely wasn’t the Temisan that I strolled in with about five minutes before, to get his “car key”. This was a fierce-looking, not-smiling, red-eyed Temisan, an animal… a wolf, in sheep’s clothing.

(To be continued…)

@bilkisses

AdEtOla’sDiary – Episode 4

Started from episode one, now we’re here. Thanks for the audience y’all, I wouldn’t be writing if you weren’t reading.
A true life story (The wolf in sheep’s clothing) comes up next week, and will span just two weeks. Please remember the “Tuesdate”.

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#Enjoy the final episode of #AdEtOlA’sDiArY

Kunle gradually stepped out of his car, trying to explain a few things to aunt Moji; but trust my no-nonsense aunt to be smarter than that. She insisted it was only me she wanted to talk to at that moment. I was really fidgety, but at the same time, I decided I wasn’t going to let her spoil my mood. I carefully placed the money Kunle had given me into my handbag while she walked over to me. As uncomfortable as I was, I couldn’t but notice Sharon stepping out of the vehicle, making way to aunty Moji before she even left Kunle.

“Good morning ma, it’s been a while I saw you” she said calmly, her expression not giving me a clue as to how she knew my aunt.

“Morning, Am I supposed to know you?” was aunt’s swift response, as if trying to get back to me and Kunles matter as quickly as possible.

“It’s me, Waje!” Sharon responded “from Lagos Island”; her expression, revealing that of a very fake smile.

I was shocked! Since when did Sharon become Waje and how the hell did she even know aunt Moji? I decided to keep calm, thinking to myself that however things played out, it was hopefully going to be in my favour. Aunt Moji took a step back, this time to carefully take a look at Sharon, who was by now grinning and she exclaimed. They talked, or rather argued for a few minutes, after which my aunt took off (not forgetting to shake her head for me of course).

The journey back to Ibadan which was literarily about one hour seemed to last forever. I was eager to alight so I could get all the details of what had transpired earlier between my aunt and Sharon; as she had insisted she wasn’t ready to divulge when I asked her in the bus. I was surprised, disappointed, astonished, ashamed, scared, but above all, I was glad and relieved. Things hadn’t gone the way I had envisaged and it made me censurable. Why Sharon insisted I didn’t need to know about her relationship with my aunt baffled me; however, why she was so sure my parents wouldn’t hear of it was the height of the confusion. I felt I had the right to know whatever it was that transpired between them. As soon as we touched down, I doubled my steps while Sharon kept trying to meet up with me. I pleaded with her in the name of the friendship we had shared in years, I pretended to cry and even tried seducing her but she wouldn’t bulge. Truth is, I didn’t know if to be scared or hopeful, considering the fact that the news wasn’t going to my dad.

The next day I packed my load and pretended I was leaving Sharon for good. I had initially counted the money Kunle gave me (#250,000) and kept a hundred thousand in Sharon’s box with a short note. While stepping out, she entered and begged me not to leave her. She said I didn’t need to know what they discussed, since she had helped to settle things between us. I had always known Sharon to be very strong emotinally, I never imagined there was anything she couldn’t handle until now. When I insisted I was leaving, she collected my handbag and placed it on the bed; then went to her side of her closet and brought out her small red diary (I always loved that diary and if not that she had started using it before I saw it, I should have been writing in it by now). She handed it over to me and though I hesitated, shoved it into my hand and ordered me to read.

I obeyed of course, and perused every detail until she asked me to stop. I ran out of the hostel we shared, stopped the nearest cab and got into it without even negotiating the price. “Palm avenue, hurry please” I snapped. By now, I was seething in anger; I couldn’t wait to get home. Once I stopped at the junction, I ran straight home calling out for my mum. It was dad at home, and as much as he tried to keep me calm, I just became angrier; bursting into tears. “How could you?” was all I could mutter… “How could you?”

Dad was as confused as a fish in an aquarium. “How could I what… Adetola?” he asked worriedly. I ran out of the room, ignoring him. Just in time, mum met me at the door and held me. “Ki lo shele oko mi?” (what happened, my dear?) she said worriedly; “Ki lo n se e?” (what’s wrong with you?). I tried to breath, I tried to pull myself back together, I sighed, and just as I was about to talk, Sharon stepped in. This time, dad was uncomfortable, he began to stutter. He tried to call Sharon to the other side of the sitting room and just by doing that, confirmed my fears. “Waje, what happened?” Sharon explained everything in detail to my mum, and the best mum could do was faint after screaming at intervals during the explanation. I stood there swooning, as I thought to myself; I didn’t know what to do. I was just coming to tell mum everything I had read in the diary, and here she was, at my apartment, explaining things herself. I busted into tears again as mum was rushed into the ambulance that was immediately called for.

* * * * *

Dear diary, as I sit by mum’s sick bed, processing every detail and trying hard to put the pieces together; I cannot but imagine how life could be this hard even when I tried all these years to make it as easy as can be. I wish I could explain why a man as good as my dad would ever be a paedophile. I wish I could explain why a friend as great as Sharon, or is it Waje I should call her, would have had such strategies right from her young age. I cannot fathom why even if she wanted to get back at my dad, she did so by turning me into someone like her. I cannot explain why mum, as smart as she was, never figured aunt Moji was dad’s accomplice and was only there to provide young girls for him to spoil their life. Somebody explain to me why aunt Moji always tried to teach me sex education, while my dad destroyed the lives of so many other young girls. Can someone explain to me why dad never used protection with the girls thereby getting Sharon pregnant at age twelve? Can someone please explain why aunt Moji, even being a woman that she is, is that heartless; or why Sharon was made to sign an agreement that she would never go back for her child, thereby leaving her in custody of aunt Moji? How would I ever face aunt Moji’s daughter again and not see Sharon’s face in hers? What am I to do with my life, now that Sharon has helped to destroy it? Oh diary, this isn’t about Kunle, Davis, Sayo, Alhaji or the many other guys I’ve slept with. This is about what my life has become, thanks to the tragedy my dad has unknowingly caused from the start. Can somebody help me get over this trauma already? Can somebody help me never to think of running away from home? Can somebody advice me to stand by my mum, as she had been ignorant about everything right from the start. Someone please help me to understand the fact that I could survive this heartache caused by my family. Someone please read this diary before I do something tragic, it might be too late. Someone…anyone, PLEASE HELP ME!!!!

THE END.

@bilkisses

#Happybirthday Barrister Uyi Ayela! Cheers from this end of the globe!

AdEtOlA’sDiaRy (Episode 3) – “Meeting Sharon” RATED 16!!!

Hi everyone, here’s the continuation of Adetola’s diary.
The concluding part (Episode 4) with Kunle and Aunt Moji, comes up next week tuesday. Please make it a date. Now, just before I start; It is imperative you know this post is rated 16! If you’re less than this age, you know what to do (•͡.̮ ~͡) . #Enjoy!

Having moved to our new house at Ijesha, a house dad said mum never talked about until the forceful ejection, he decided we stayed alone. There were no security men or bodyguard, and there was definitely no family. Truth is, it’s not like we didn’t want family around as such, they just hardly ever showed up. Everything became different. Dad tried hard to keep up, going from one company to another to sort things – whatever it was that led to our eviction – out. Mum tried in so many ways to explain to me that all of dad’s property known to the government had been seized and his accounts, frozen. It was a thing of the mind I guess, because as much as she tried to make me see I wouldn’t get extra stuff, she also made sure I didn’t lack. Mum’s money kept coming in and dad tried to make ends meet with them, settling debts and trying to bring in contracts.

Queens College’s admission list was finally out. I had written my common entrance exactly a month before we got thrown out of the house (I never seem to forget that part of my life) and was patiently awaiting my admission. Before the whole saga, mum had insisted there was nothing like staying in the hostel but after three months of depending only on mum’s income, I was told I would enjoy the hostel life. Queens College, Yaba was my first and second school of choice as mum had insisted since she didn’t have the opportunity to attend in her days, I was definitely going to, no matter the cost.

Sharon and I met outside the school library when she courageously walked up to me and told me she liked me and wanted to be my close friend. From close friends, we became lovers in our fourth year after much persuasion from Sharon. She tried so hard to make me see she loved me more than just friends and after figuring out how much she cared and how jealousy crept into us upon finding each other in the company of other friends, I gave in. Sharon would invite me to her room occasionally and we would make out; she was always fun to be with. I remember being taught everything I know today by her even though I never cared to ask how she got to learn hers at such a tender age.
We were invited to the room by the house captain one fateful day; she had given everyone except Sharon and me manual labour and like she demanded, we went to meet her in her private room. Upon entry, she was stark naked, and ordered us to sit. She carefully bolted the door; and my heart skipped a bit. Sharon had a plain expression, and just as I wanted to break the silence she spoke.

“Senior Dolapo, you sent for us. Can we help you?” Sharon was never scared; she could stand up to any senior in school, and even the teachers were threatened to respect themselves.

“Call me Dolapo…”, the house captain responded; “…but only when we’re together.” she concluded, smiling sheepishly still naked.

I was stunned! “Call you Dolapo?” This was someone even the head prefect was scared of and now she was as calm as the word itself. “Now, call you Dolapo?”… Trust Sharon with an open check.

“Dolapo, what do you want from us please?” was her quick question, “…and why are you naked?”

I was speechless. I wasn’t to move or talk, it was the house captain and she was probably just testing us.

“Well, I know you and Tola are lesbian partners and since I like you two, I thought it would be nice if we had something together”. She said, without the slightest awkwardness in her voice.

“Hahaha”, I laughed silently, still carefully trying not to make a sound in case they were to forget I even made it to the room at all. By this time, Dolapo was already trying to caress Sharon while begging her to please make love with me in her presence, so she could be turned on.
Sharon hesitated at first, but after much persuasion, came over and started kissing me, and then I responded passionately. She started to pull off my blue-checked gown while I tore at hers. She smooched my tiny boobs and put her finger in my pant. I started to moan, but the sound I was hearing told me it wasn’t me moaning that loudly. Dolapo had started to help herself, and Sharon had to take a break from me. She moved over to Dolapo on her bed, opened her legs and started licking her “honey pot”. She fingered her, and kissed her simultaneously; I was horny and decided to join. I let Sharon continue her job while I squatted over Dolapo as she sucked me, her tongue caressing me like no other. I targeted her big, succulent boobs and massaged my way through it. The three of us were busy and it was really fun. This continued for a while until we gradually took turns to cum. It was the sweetest experience and I couldn’t help but ask for more. After two more really better rounds, we lay on the bed breathing helplessly. It was the beginning of a new life with Dolapo, and until she graduated, we spent our Wednesday afternoons together and never again went for manual labour. Sharon and I became really popular in school and won several awards ranging from “best clique”, “most beautiful”, to “best couple”. With her, I hardly ever thought about the troubles at home.

Things went from better to worse at home, and so I got used to not asking them for much again (Sharon was already taking care of that). She showered me with gifts (in cash and kind), and though her parents never came during visiting days, she told me they always sent those things to her. Dad decided we moved to Ibadan, as things were getting out of hand for us in Lagos and so immediately I graduated from secondary school in 2005, we moved to Ibadan where most of our extended family resided.

Aunty Moji, dad’s “aburo” wasn’t really related to dad. Sincerely, each time the need to explain the connection arose, I always told them to skip it. I knew all my aunts and uncles and she wasn’t anything close to them. Wherever dad got her from, I just had to accept, as mum could not even do anything about their closeness. Mum loved her though, and always invited her over even when I didn’t want to have her around. She was the very strict type and I didn’t really like her. She would scold me for little things and always threatened me with getting pregnant and abandoned, if I ever slept with a guy before marriage. I usually wondered why she was that mean and only keen on giving me sex education, but I always got over her quickly. Who cared what she thought anyway, I knew how to take care of myself. I was a “big girl” already, and I knew better than to have sex with a guy without condom, no matter how experienced he claimed to be. I got used to sleeping with guys for money (trust me, it wasn’t prostitution; at least I always made sure I liked them before I opened my legs at all). Mum didn’t know much, except that I would give her some money and would buy foodstuffs for the house whenever I went visiting them courtesy of Sayo, my “yahoo boy” boyfriend. She would pray for me and will always give me the same line “I hope to meet him some day”. She did this over and over again, until one day while I was home for the weekend; Alhaji came to drop me at home after spending almost the whole day with him in the hotel. Just as I alighted, mum got to the gate and requested to finally meet “my boyfriend” and as much as I wanted to say he wasn’t the one, she didn’t wait to listen. When she got there, she was shocked. Alhaji, whom she knew very well, was fast to tell her he was on his way to the area and decided to drop me off when he figured it was me, his friend’s daughter. She was about to protest when he brought out a bundle of money (#100,000 she said…), and gave it to her. She kept thanking him until he drove off. That night, mum called me to discuss mother-daughter relationship. After much talk, she concluded by advising me to always be careful and use condoms whenever I caught myself in a web of sex… “even with the likes of Alhaji”. I was speechless…

(To be continued…on tuesday; do make it a date.)

Please, a friend needs our votes. Kindly vote for him by copying and tweeting this: Theophilus Elamah, Newscaster of the year (Male) #NBMAwards2013. Thanks friends.

@bilkisses

AdEtOlA’sDiaRy (Episode 2) – Meet the Oshinugas

Wow! It’s been a wonderful response from my readers. Thanks for taking the time out of your busy schedule to entertain yourselves on this blog. Thank God it’s tuesday; now, all you need do is sit (trust me you want to do that), relax and grab a pack of popcorn; while you enjoy episode two of “AdEtOlA’sDiaRy”. Much love always…

Dad used to work with Warset Nigeria Limited until he decided it was time he started his own company. It was the most respectable engineering firm in Lagos, Nigeria at the time (or so I heard). He made so much money; he could buy ten lands in a day (if the lands cost at least seven million naira). He would invite every tom, dick and harry into the house and nobody ever left empty handed. Dad was the most extravagant man on planet earth, as I grew to know, in fact every street around the area wanted to make him chairman of their various associations; which definitely meant they would get at least, 2cows, 10bags of foodstuff (rice, beans, yam flour etc.) with 50 tubers of yam every month for their Saturday meetings. He had all the chieftaincy titles one could ever imagine; and even though he didn’t go out in most of his cars, had a fleet of them in our very huge compound.

Mum wasn’t any different from dad except that she came from abject poverty to be whom she was. She also had titles like “Iya Alaje” (Most marketable woman), “Iya Oloja” (Head of market women) amongst others and was the leader of several other associations. She had many big shops in Lagos island yet, hardly ever went there. She owned several boutiques on the mainland as well but the only thing she enjoyed was to sit at home and make her accounts. Mum was a civil servant when she met dad, and even though I fail to believe it wasn’t the money that attracted her, they insist it was love at first sight. She was literarily “made” and had everything a complete woman wanted. Whenever any case of noise outside the gate was reported (be it the mallams begging for money, or some area boy that was trying to force his way through security), all mum had to do to avoid it was drop some money and everything was settled; It was all about the money.

I was one of the most loved kids at Pampers private school, Surulere; and that I believe, can’t be farfetched. Looking back at things though, I begin to wonder why they actually really loved me because aside from the money dad gave the school daily, weekly or monthly, I was also a very good student and never shared my first position with anyone. Up until primary five, I had many friends wherever I went and never for once got flogged by a teacher even for something I did wrong. As good as I was in all my subjects, I still received so much attention and every one of them wanted to be my lesson teacher; an opportunity to come to the house daily and receive more than their teaching allowance. I was literarily their world, because as much as mum and dad tried to make more children, I seemed to be the only one available and so even at Pampers private school, I was highly pampered.

Mrs Fadeke was the best of them all (I didn’t think the same back then though). She was my class teacher in primary five and also taught me PHE (Physical and Health Education). She never allowed dad’s money to get into her head, and whenever I did something wrong, she didn’t hesitate to scold me for it. I remember vividly being in primary 5A when I met my first crush.
Nosa, as he was fondly called was the cutest boy in class, his physique being everything to write home about. He had the height every primary five boy wanted, the swag and to top it all, the accent everyone craved for, including Mrs Fadeke. Everytime, I demanded to be left alone in class with him during break period and my classmates obeyed (thanks to the chocolates and money I shared with them in class daily). Everyone of us had a rich mum or dad, mine was just exceptional. On that fateful day, Nosa had just moved closer to me and started touching me like he always did, while we talked. However, things got out of hand and he asked that we left the class for privacy. We decided to meet in the female toilet and he started kissing me. We kissed (like I used to see them do in those movies mum and dad watched in the house – before they asked me to close my eyes for about a minute). It was a brief moment of frolicking and everything seemed interesting, until the distraction…the scream. I hadn’t even taken note of anyone opening the door to talk of standing before us, it was Mrs Fadeke! That day, I got flogged for the first time in my life, and my parents were called to school.
Mum said I embarrassed her but then, she made sure everything I initially owned was doubled and I was made to promise that such an occurence would never repeat itself. I was supposed to go to school sad and embarrassed the next day; but on the contrary, I went with pride showcasing all the new materials mum had gotten me; and all my friends that didn’t initially want to talk to me again started coming back around. I learnt a lesson that day never to disappoint my parents or embarrass them if I wanted toys from them but I also didn’t understand how if I did something I got flogged for in school, I didn’t get reprimanded at home (I didn’t care anyway). I was back to being a queen bee and that was all that mattered. However, Mrs Fadeke never stopped to scold me if I was wrong.

It was December 16th, 2000; on a Saturday morning. I still can’t explain how it happened, but I remember that day like my 10th birthday. It was the most unforgettable day in the lives of the Oshinugas. Mum rushed into my room crying; she hugged me tight while the huge dark-skinned man that followed her inside stood at the corner of my wardrobe, arms akimbo and waited for whatever it was he was actually doing in my room. I couldn’t fathom any of it. I knew almost all our security men in the house and they loved me; but the expression on the mans face didn’t prove a bit like he cared. I didn’t know what was happening, all I knew is mum didn’t stop crying and telling me I would be okay. She carried me out of the room and walked down the stairs until we got to dad. Dad wasn’t crying and that even baffled me the more. I wondered what it was that was making only mummy cry while dad kept a straight face. The men had increased by the time we got downstairs; they were more than a dozen in number and definitely outnumbered the security men that guarded our house. Mum kept crying and begging while dad kept dabbing his face with his handkerchief, talking to someone that looked like incredible hulk. I started to cry too…for no major reason of course, aside the fact that my mum was crying. I started to scream and throw tantrums and as much as I wanted to be given attention, no one was willing to look at me. Mum didn’t let go of me though, she never did and it was weird when I thought of what actually soiled my clothes – mums’ tears or mine. Finally, dad walked up to us, hugged mum, and said “we have to leave now darling, we have to leave”. It was like uncle’s car gear, mum’s tears increased with a resounding noise and so did mine (don’t forget I didn’t exactly know why I was crying). The men in black, looking like they didn’t have tongues and couldn’t speak just followed us behind until we were out and I saw them locking the gates, putting a tag outside which read “DO NOT TRESSPASS, GOVERNMENT PROPERTY!” and then my confusion got the best of me.

Guess what happens to a child that has always had everything at her disposal, only to be told “Sweetie, try to understand, daddy can’t afford to get these things no more”. Well, you probably have an idea of my present life…

(To be continued… on tuesday) Make it a date.

‘kisses always!

AdEtOlA’s Diary – Episode 1

Dear diary,

This story can be said to have started out as a coincidence, but like I always say “nothing is ever a coincidence”… in my world at least. My name is Adetola Oshinuga and this is the story of my life in brief.
The text came in like any other message I get on the regular, it was an MTN credit card of N1500 worth and even though I didn’t have the number saved on my phone, I loaded the credit anyway. I apparently assumed it to have been from Davis, my commissioner boyfriend whom I asked to renew my internet subscription. He liked using different numbers to call me and always insisted he does all the calling so I didn’t even bother calling back. Almost immediately, Sayo & his friends came around to pick my friends and I to the club so I took my mind off the credit briskly and didn’t even bother getting a confirmation from Davis in any way.

I got home earlier than planned because I got into a little fight with Sayo at the club. He acts like he owns me too much when in the real sense he’s just a struggling ‘yahoo boy’ trying to make ends meet, I blame it all on his shallow mind though. After the fight, I made up my mind never to see him again before things got out of hand. Coming out of the bathroom after my shower, I saw 11 missed calls on my phone, apparently Sayo had been calling and that just pissed me off the more. The next call and I answered it vehemently, ranting profusely at the caller whom I expected to be Sayo of course; only for me to hear a different voice trying to calm me down.

This voice was really soothing and he sounded really mature over the phone with the first “Hello” not crucifying me as to why I hadn’t called earlier et al. He introduced himself as Kunle and told me he had mistakenly sent me a message as he mistyped the number. I had already loaded the card and so started stammering… trying to make him understand I was going to resend another the next day, even though all I wanted to hear was “never mind, you don’t have to” (LOL). I was so tired; I didn’t even know when I slept off hence, the next morning, I awoken to his text telling me I didn’t have to get it as he had long sent another to his intended recipient. He also made jest of me because I slept off while he was talking. I kinda felt foolish and embarrassed though, but was glad he wasn’t rude or the sort. He appeared to be a really nice guy and requested my permission to keep in touch and so, by Saturday, we had already started gisting. He surprisingly didn’t ask for my pin, he didn’t even ask if I was on BBM, he just kept calling and as such, within just a few days, I had learnt so many things about him, and he, about me.
Kunle was in his early 40’s, had two kids and a pregnant wife, but had them all outside the country. He was usually bored especially on weekends and didn’t mind being my friend to keep him company (at least, that’s what he said). I obviously didn’t mind keeping him as a “friend” either. He told me he stayed at chevron estate, Lekki and all I could calculate was how much he could spend on me (I was definitely glad). Just as if he read my mind, he was fast to tell me I could come around whenever I wanted, and even with my friends to “have fun”. As a 300L babe in her mid-semester, I was pitifully nearing broke point, and wanted badly to be upgraded plus I already perceived Kunle to be a “Mr nice guy”. We had an arrangement and by Friday, I was ready to leave for Lagos with Sharon, my bestie. I packed two sexy short gowns hoping to drop jaws wherever we went to “have fun”, my lingerie and bikini not forgetting to keep a pack of condoms in my wallet… (STDs are real o). It was going to be one of the best weekends ever, I had promised myself as you know, we obsessed girls cannot be responsible for our actions, or can we? I was obsessed with money, being broke was not my thing. We arrived Lagos at exactly 2pm, and decided to take a red cab (as a lekki bobo that he was na, I was determined to spend his money). As soon as we got to chevron estate, his number was not reachable, as such we decided to pay the cabbie ourselves (vex money comes in handy) and chill at a famous eatery around. While we gisted and thought about so many awkward situations, should “Mr nice guy” not show up, his call came in and then I described our location. I knew instantly he was the one I’d been talking to on phone when he stepped into the section we were and the smell of Creed was all over. During one of our very few but lengthy conversations within the past days, he told me he loved perfumes a lot and usually went for the best. He even told me he would have me pick my choice whenever I came around as he specifically bought for peeps.

He was tall, dark and handsome (just like I liked them) and I was immediately taken aback when I remembered he was married and only a “parol”. He seemed too cool to be resisted and I smiled sheepishly as he stepped towards us, not forgetting to confirm my name as he stretched forth his hand for a handshake. I couldn’t stop fondling with my phone, not particularly searching for anything; he just didn’t seem as interesting as he sounded on phone. I went through BBM status updates repeatedly and briefly checked my TL on twitter until I heard him sadly coo saying his wife was returning into the country that night as she had just lost her mum, who was to be buried that weekend. No wonder he was acting all quiet at first, guess he didn’t want me to regret coming all the way and probably for “nothing”. He opted to move us to a hotel to freshen up before taking us out for some drinks at the mall to keep the night alive. I was back to my normal self and just kept trying to engage him in discussions while Sharon didn’t stop disturbing with pings to tell me he was really cute and she didn’t mind having a threesome.
Sharon and I went way back from secondary school (ask about us from any queens college babe and you’re not far from booking an appointment *wink*). She was my partner up until I decided I wanted some “bananas” too. We decided to still stick around for each other and even dated the same set of guys.

We got to Shoprite at about 9:30pm (yeah, I always kept track of time because I was always going through my phone), got a few drinks and took dinner then he asked us to go round the mall and pick stuffs we wanted. Trust me with an open check, I picked two very beautiful gowns (I was a short gown freak because peeps always told me I had sexy legs) and Sharon who was pretending to be a nice girl took a very nice Chanel sunglasses. We left for the hotel in a hurry when he got this call and as much as he tried to hide his impatience, I could read it on his almost straight face, I therefore came to a conclusion that we would leave the next day (at least, there were still many other weekends). Morning came and we ordered fried plantain with snail sauce for breakfast, feeling bad our fun was cut short but was glad we went shopping and were still going to get “awoof” money when leaving. Sharon and I had a quickie before he came around to drive us to the park where we could get a cab and just as we were about getting off, he gave me an envelope I was sure contained “a lot of” money. Instead of me to just thank him and leave, I decided to give him a very long and unexpected “we-could-try-this-again” kiss. He responded positively and almost didn’t want to stop when he heard the knock on his side window.
“Hi Kunle, sorry to cut you short, heard Bola is coming this weekend for mama’s burial, is she around yet?”
She sounded really stern, almost not waiting for him to even wind down; I wondered what the expression on her face was. He obviously felt uncomfortable but started replying and I made out to leave the car when I heard it and stopped. It was only family members that called me that; I wasn’t based in Lagos again and didn’t remember having any close relative who stayed around, plus goodness it was morning who was this jobless person who knew my native name? I slowly turned around, looking up, kinda fidgety. Lo and behold, it was Aunty Moji, dad’s “aburo”, I froze!

(To be continued…next week tuesday) Make it a date!

‘kisses always!

INSIDIFY

Hello everyone.

Thanks so much for visiting this site again today. Please let the love spread till the end of the post, I’ll make it a duty not to bore you… like I always try to do. *clears throat* Now peeps, this is kinda different from my usual posts, nothing much really straight from the heart on this one, but definitely a lot on our future.

School days for many is almost over (thanks to ASUU and the FG for prolonging the stay), and very well over (for those in the private universities… and of course, Uni-Ilorin. Congrats). I can imagine, as is expected, that the thoughts of how it’s going to be like after graduation often plays in one’s head. Been thinking as well and just as if the world had a loop into my thoughts, I had a run in with an old friend on twitter (let’s call him Mr. K) and he told me something that could help.

Mr. K told me about a new Job search site – http://www.insidify.com (a “social” jobs site). They combine job aggregation with professional social networking; crawling jobs from all major Nigerian job sites and company career pages so that job seekers can access all Nigerian openings from one place (just like google works for information). Any job in Nigeria is in there (Yeah, I said it!) …and all you have to do is SEARCH, like the popular saying, “seek and ye shall find” (•͡.̮ ~͡) Pretty cool huh?

Now, it gets even more interesting. Insidify also connects these jobs and people on a social platform for networking and collaboration. A person in your network that works in a company and knows of a Job position can tell you about it and also put in a good word for you. It’s as simple as it gets. Another fact is, you don’t even have to check the different job sites present in Nigeria for available jobs -over 45 of them I was told- you have one place to get them all and people that can help you get the job!

They also have lots of Internship positions for folks still in the university, and trainee positions amongst others. Their home page says over 108,000 jobs and counting; be smart people!

I am in, and creating my own network already. You peeps should just sign up and follow me (Osomo Bilikis); hehehe, sounds like twitter all again? Or Instagram? Its a social job site remember, more like a cooler experience you have on Linkedin.

The address remains Insidify.com Check it out and let me know what you think. Don’t forget to follow me though, would love to have you in my network because now I’m feeling like someone who can get all the jobs in the world… (•͡.̮ ~͡)

By the way, thanks so much for taking out time to read this like you always do. I really do appreciate you all. See you at Insidify.com

Comment:
“There are presently over 67,000 new jobs on Insidify.com, by far the largest collection of job postings in Africa.”- http://www.koyegbeke.blogspot.com

‘kisses always!

‘kisses always!

PRESS RELEASE: G.O.A.L INITIATIVE PRESENTS DRIBBLE SEASON 2

G.O.A.L (Girls of Outstanding Aim and Lifestyle) Initiative presents DRIBBLE SEASON 2. Oh, you still haven’t heard about this? Then you should be awarded #LASTMAn official of the year (•͡.̮ ~͡)

Okay, pardon my pun. DRIBBLE is a female football tournament aimed at promoting the versatility, strength and competitive abilities of today’s females while even celebrating the female gender (Now GUYS, don’t run yet. This gets even more interesting for you). The event also serves as a platform to create awareness on various issues affecting women in our society, hence the theme of the year is “THE BREAST CANCER AWARENESS CAMPAIGN”. *now “checking out” my breasts (˘̯˘)*

The first edition was held on the 17th of November, 2012 at the Campus mini stadium, Lagos Island and had 8 teams contest for the top prize. #TeamClassiq emerged as winners of the tournament. The event in itself however, wasn’t just all about winning as the ladies showed character, team work and endurance while they had fun. The edition featured celebrities like Skales, Shank, Dpzle, Morachi, Lamborgini, Kollertunz and Adams of Soundcity.

This year, DRIBBLE brings to you it’s second season – “The Breast Cancer Awareness Campaign”. This comes up later in the year and for more info on how to participate, add up #Dribbleng on BBM – 2A5679B8, 2269414E or 25E7561F. You can also easily click your follow button on twitter and instagram @dribbleng .The greatest news is you can join the DRIBBLE channel for BB10 users, just add up the channel pin C0008CA5B and get started.

Join us, as we celebrate women and support the fight against breast cancer; and please make it a duty to “observe” your breasts today! (Now guys don’t be furious. Please pass this message on to your sisters, mums, girlfriends, zoned-friends and side-chics.) This is where you come in! (•͡.̮ ~͡)

All the while, it’s been @bilkisses narrating for #Dribbleng. Thanks for visiting…

‘kisses always!

What a sHiTtY experience!

“Gbrakpakpakpakpakpa” it quaked; almost shattering my own eardrums while deafening my silence. I smiled at how awkward things could have gotten having missed my one and only chance with cupididae.
* * * * *
Hey there, I’m joshblizzy, thought to share my lil’ shitty experience…

“I went to the barbers…to have my hair cut, of course *clears throat* This is just the beginning. Apart from the phobia of getting a bad cut which would automatically mar my self-acclaimed sex appeal, I’m always so conscious about getting my hair treated rightly. Upon completion, my suaveness immediately increased (confidence booster) and I couldn’t help admiring myself in the mirror (hey, stop that thought! I’m not gay!). Stepping out of the salon in style, I proceeded home. Considering the fact that I live in an estate not too far from the salon, I had earlier opted to trek; and as I was about to take a last turn off our arguably tarred road, I saw this damsel… *pause*

Damsel: (n.) A young unmarried woman. (Examaxe Online Dictionary)
Damsel: (n.) A beautiful chic with perfectly shaped curves and tits that make u go gaga; could be light/dark/tall/not-tall/married/unmarried. (Bilkisses blog)

*play*
As usual, my heart missed a systole (which is normal for any real man *winks*). I held my breath for a short while until my memory started re-booting and my system, re-processing. From nowhere, the word “cupididae” came in, and that I automatically named her. Though, it had been a while I ventured into that kind of quest, I decided to introduce myself, gaining every iota of confidence from the supposed “perfect” hair cut I just had. With the almost appropriate pick up line, I went “Hello, I’m not an angel, but I can sure light your way with my torch in this darkness” *bleerrrr* Who still says that? She surprisingly turned, smiled and said “hello, thank you”. She was blushing, and that gave me the much needed welcome and a triumphant entry into her company.

Just as I was about to consolidate my feat, I felt a rumbling in my bowel. Oops!… Ignoring the warning, I started the name exchange procedure… and on a close shave with my second question, I felt another migratory proceeding in my bowel and a nudging sensation emanating from my rectum. I didn’t need a soothsayer to tell me what was wrong as I knew I had to get to the gents instantly! In the process of “trying to act normal”, when I sincerely knew I wasn’t, I didn’t get her response to my second question aiming to know where she resided, and then I knew I was in for a shocker. Even my haircut wasn’t getting me out of this mess. My mind was already like Einstein’s, full of physics; calculating my rate of movement in relation to the time of release of my …you know. As a fact, I knew I had to run; however, I didn’t want Miss cupididae to pass me by! (Seriously, any guy would have done the same *sad face*).

(In between the devil and the deep blue sea) I was already awkward beside her. She was bewildered as of now and I could only imagine what she would have been pondering, while I kept trying not to leave room for disappointments. Feigning ignorance, I made a quick call to my brother who kept saying “hello, what are you saying, who are you talking to?” till I ended the call, and with the pretense that there was an emergency at home, I excused myself afterwards and away I raced from my Miss Cupididae… A valiant home run to the comfort of my toilet seat *covers face*.

“Gbrakpakpakpakpakpa”… The feeling came before the emotion. I was relieved before I could think of the loss, my loss. But then I was going to console myself with the details I got; her name and where she stays… only to realize they were all gone, flushed with the lumps of dumps down the pumps; through the drain and away from my brain! *deep sigh* I couldn’t hate the rumble any lesser! But I definitely couldn’t be blamed for the loss as the saying “You can’t cheat nature” definitely came in handy.

All the while it’s been @Bilkisses. What a shitty experience. ¯\..(•͡.̮ •͡ )../¯
Big ShoutOut to @Joshblizzy for the narration. Cheers from this end of the globe!!

‘kisses always!

SMILE STORY #1

A healthy smile…a healthy U! U definitely wanna checkthis out (•͡.̮ ~͡)

Stainless Smile's Blog

SMILE STORIES

The very first on our smile story is our own lovely Osomo B.O, a final year Biology student of the Federal University of Technology Akure. This is her SMILE STORY.

Very quickly I opened the envelope and OMG, it was an employment letter. I couldn’t have been happier. Oh, pardon my manners; I guess I skipped the part where I was supposed to gist you how it all went right? Thing is, I always got compliments as to having a nice smile and a nice set of teeth. I just never imagined it could get me thus far.

   I left home in a hurry that morning and decided to skip breakfast till later, hoping to get home latest by noon. I was dressed up looking suavely hot and posh for the interview. As noon approached, my face began to change colour from the blush pink cheeks, to…

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A MOTHER’S LOVE

No love like a mother’s…
Very recently I was headed home with a friend when something interestingly caught my attention – a mother’s love. “It is a norm” most of us will say, in fact, it is expected and nothing should be otherwise. This is where I cut in!
A mother’s love….the type you’ll see and be moved, the type that can never be compromised. The type you will get and never want to leave, the type if you miss having, can never be replaceable. The true love… A mother’s love.
Mother goat stood across her kid, weeping – that I’m sure of – within. The kid had just been hit by a very careless, wicked driver who did not take the courtesy of probably, properly disposing the carcass. Just by the roadside, in fact, by the walkway, where no matter where you’re coming from or headed, you will definitely see it. Mother goat could not be offered condolences by me – because I didn’t understand her language, neither did she, mine. I could only show remorse as to what a human like me, though different from me in character, had done. Mother goat was with kid one, lying helplessly by the pathway while she stared bitterly, breathing profusely, looking sadly at kid two. She wasn’t seated on her four appendages, mother goat stood while everyone passed forth. I felt terrible, especially when my friend who was walking with me told me that had been the same episode since earlier that day, and this was about ten hours later. I began to think about mothers who at one time or the other had lost a child, it is devastating!
Before lights out, I had surprisingly forgotten about the occurrence, only for me to take the same route the next day and OMG, it was mother goat still in that position. This time, she had tried to cover kid one with grass, while kid two, still across the gutter was gradually decomposing, thanks to the other cars that still had the guts to go over a dead meat. What a shame! My question – “are we that insensitive and heartless?” Mother goat could have been anyone. I for one, was embarrassingly scared of goats until the scenario, which immediately called my attention to the fact that mother goat had feelings too, running through her veins, and that she was almost like us, except we were higher. My arms were covered in goose pimples; I was speechless as I hurriedly moved across to where I was headed. I’ll say it again, “aint no love like a mother’s love” even when it balls down to mother goat’s.
This goes out to every mother out there, living or not. May you be celebrated in unimaginable folds. May your angelic purpose in our lives not be cut short by untimely death. May your love for us continue to shine like the morning sun, and grow like vegetables everywhere we go. I appreciate my mother’s love towards me, God bless our mothers!
***Peace***

‘kisses always!

THE “SEMI-FINAL” STAGE

Hi everyone feels good to be back again. Been long you saw me? Ah, yea…you can say that again. Thing is, I’ve been going through a lot of “semi-finals” in my life; and the last…yeah, that wasn’t an exception. So how are you today? I’ve really missed doing this especially ‘cos it keeps me connected to you! Yes, you! How many “semi-finals” have you passed through in life and how does it feel to be at that stage? Now that brings me to my very brief topic today – THE SEMI-FINAL JOURNEY.
The semi-final journey could occur at any time. It could be as a result of several basic instances. The moment before the achievement…Yeah, that point? That’s your semi-final. It occurs at every other point in a person’s life. To become truly successful, one has to go through several of these changes. My semi-final journey has been quite a long one! Long because, in as much as I wanted to stick around, I just remember stuffs and I go underground again…for all it’s worth. This journey could at times make one undergo all the changes in life…yeah, physical changes… But no! Not into a werewolf or a vampire. Lol. Change, that’s got to do with your biology perhaps, or just your psychology, You get to see a lot of things differently. Your orientation about the people around you starts to change…quite frankly, because you know that sooner than you can tell, within the blink of an eye, everyone is separated into their various categories.
It’s been a wonderful experience, and you can say that again after spending five years at a particular stage (in some cases, six). You know its worth and value when you finally graduate from the stage…it’s the best feeling ever! Mostly, it is important to value the years before, so that the semi-final stage wouldn’t be a drag, a struggle, or a hustle. My last had to do with a lot of life’s examinations whereby though, it’s a must to prevail, real success isn’t just achieved that easily; as I have learnt that “If you always do what you’ve always done, you will always get what you’ve always gotten” hence, my diverted desire to change a lot of things ‘cos of what I had hoped to achieve. As much as I would have liked to continue this, it just occurred to me that at the beginning I promised a short post; as such I’ll leave you with my cheap lil’ question. “What did your last semi-final stage feel like?”

So I went through this commendable writeup and I felt another level of confidence within me. To my wonderful readers, being selfish is not my kinda’ thing, hence my decision to reblog and share with you. Please enjoy; don’t forget to grab a drink and popcorn while u do. *kisses always*

samaonpoint's Blog

They married their first love, now divorced and lonely, they’ve become women/men who don’t know how to date because they never dated all their lives.

@Authenticlepa was understandably excited when she bumped into an old school crush at a party. Newly single [out of a relationship], after ending a 30-month affair, she jumped at a bit of romance and was encouraged when he seemed to reciprocate. For the rest of the night, they flirted, until her old flame leant in to kiss her, I could feel the blood rush in my loins!

The next week, she showered her new love interest with calls and text messages. “Then he arranged to visit me for the weekend and started making plans for what we could do. That’s when he went cold. I started getting short replies to my text messages and he didn’t seem keen to chat on the phone. I didn’t…

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48hours before the 14th…

I used to care… Seriously, I used to. To bring love, peace and unity amongst peers was my number one goal. I wish I could say the same for the people I had around me. I sincerely used to care. I still wish that part of me would crawl back some day… probably before it becomes too late, too late to put pieces of me back together.
I remember my friends confronting me to confide in them that I was actually normal. I never wanted to talk to anyone, not even my friends boyfriends. I always found something wrong somewhere… Yet, I knew I was normal.. I still am. Everything was the other way round for me, until I met Charles… the only person I have ever loved. My world, my life… my everything.
We did everything you can imagine, together. Our love making was out of this world. He would hold me tight every morning, when I slept over and was about leaving… Tight like he didn’t want to lose me. On his chest, I’ll place my head to assure him that as far as I lived, I will know no other man aside from him. I never gave him the opportunity to really speak… To say what he always had in mind.
Fear, it usually seemed like, but then again, I waved it off. He was my world, he was my breath… Without him, I didn’t think I could survive the rest of my life that had literarily begun with him.

It was 48hours to the 14th… I’d been shopping for valentine like it wasn’t just going to last the normal 24hours. I wanted to do something different, something intimidating. I told Esosa and she tried everything in her power to dissuade me. But she knew me better, when my mind was made up, there’s hardly ever any turning back. I wasn’t taking chances anymore. I was going to be 29 in two days. I wanted it to be more than a vals day, more than my birthday. I wanted it to be everlasting. It was a year ago we met and we’ve become so inseparable since we started dating. I was so sure he was all I ever wanted to live for. I sincerely didn’t believe in wasting so much time, when everything was moving on a smooth course.

I stepped into the house, the groceries on one hand, and my phone in the other. I wanted badly to tell Esosa to help out with some stuff, but she wasn’t reading her pings. I had to quickly drive down to her house when her number was also not going through. Just as I entered, I heard Charles’s voice… He was threatening Esosa. What in the world was he doing at Esosa’s?. And why were they even arguing. I wanted to play the whole “i-caught-you” drama but I was too tensed to even do that. I barged into the house, and Charles’s hand was going over to Esosas face… Like what it seemed – a hot dirty slap! I screamed, she fell, he ran towards me, she ran towards him… Hell yeah! I was definitely in a movie! I’d never seen him that violent. She was blabbing, I couldn’t even put together, what she was trying to say. I was too confused and shocked!

*wipes tears* Charles was a joke all along! Esosa “planted” him to see if I was really normal… But he had fallen for me and wasn’t willing to let go… She told him months after I fell for him, to break up with me but he said he was still acting. Until I told Esosa I wanted to propose, then she could take it no more. He was glad to hear it when she told him, the more reason he wouldn’t leave me. She invited him over for a serious talk, they had to end the contract she had paid only six months for or she was going to give me the details of everything… He threatened her, then I walked in!

It was like a joke. She kept saying that wasn’t her intention, all she wanted me to do was “love”, so that he would break up with me and I’ll “love” someone else… Someone real and not paid, someone “better”. It was all making sense, she was happy for me when I met charles, but months after.. When she saw how serious we were, she began to act up. I am broken!! Charles would not stop sending messages, he was paid but he never needed the money. He didn’t know I had a good heart et al, and he has fallen in love with me. He always wanted to tell me, but he didn’t know how to…

I know there is no way on earth I’m getting over this, if I don’t have charles in my life, I can’t have anyone else. My other friends have told me to get over it, and that with time I’ll be fine. Suicide isn’t an option… But its thoughts have been badly lurking around. How do I survive this? How do I forgive Esosa or Charles? How do I move on without them? The 14th is definitely going to be the worst ever, I’ll just go back to being my cold self. Celebrating my birthday or valentine was not my kinda thing in the first place.

‘kisses always!

SWEET

No, it’s definitely not what you’re thinking.
Lollipop?? Tom tom? Well…
It doesn’t even have to do with taste.
Diced apples or pineapples…
Diced plantain… Far from it.
I’m still not just trying to make a statement…like;
“Dice the potatoes for me, because I need something sweet”.
This is #Sweet from #DICE.
That is; DICE, the team will give us some sweet.
For me, sweetness is all I demand.
If you want me to spread my legs, I will…
But of course, on ground…
On the dance floor.
To get the sense of pleasure…
The pleasure of fulfillment…
The fulfillment gotten because it’s sweet.
#SWEET from DICE.
DICE, the team of glamour.
You’ll call this a tale, I’ll say let’s make it a date.
It’s this simple:

1st of February, 2013.
Pre-venue TIME: 9PM
GATE: #2,000 only.
Free pick-ups at Designated spots too.

Present at the pre-venue will be “Mide Photography” to take the freshest of shots.
You really don’t want to miss out!

DRESS CODE: NO jeans trousers/slips for ladies; NO shorts, slips or caps for guys. Aside that, be “you”!

You even get an opportunity to make ♫ requests. Wow! What could you be waiting for. This is an opportunity of a life time, PLEASE dull not!

It’s all about CLASS!!!

ENQUIRIES? —->
08163188137 @Omooba_says
07030959188 @ay_bkini

DIARY OF A B-DAY BLOGGER

Mortals cannot choose the day they are born or the day that they die; their choices begin and end after these two are respectively made for them. (chutzpah)
If you haven’t met me before, then imagine the most portable babe you know, that is also light skinned; and you are on the right track. Well, except I almost forgot to add “beautiful”. My momma usually says “if they don’t praise you, praise yourself” hence, my conclusive “beautiful” of myself. If on the contrary, you can’t but imagine seeing the real person (as seeing is believing); then scroll down for a quick glance at my picture – don’t forget to come back though. Thanks…
In the last few weeks, I’ve done a lot of thinking which has brought me to a valid conclusion that because my month is the first in the Gregorian calendar year, I usually feel older every January 1st. My whole system changes physically, biologically and emotionally and probably, chemically. Well, considering the fact that I might not get a better birthday gift (apologies to those who will go out of their way to shop for me), I decided to dedicate a simple post to myself, this!

Rummaging through my closet that sunny afternoon, I searched tirelessly for a dress to wear but then I found something else – an old diary, carefully hidden beneath a pile of jeans. Being the very inquisitive type, I paused my ultimate search for a great dress to go through every moment that had passed in the last years. Imagine what caught my attention:

“Monday, January 24, 2005: A day I will never forget. Just as I was about leaving the hostel for class, my friends bathed me in soaked garri and sand. I was angry, but it was fun afterwards. Thank God for today.”

LOL!!! <— Well, that was exactly what I did; I laughed out loud having remembered. Eight years ago it was, when I was in SS3. As a small “big girl” that year, I didn’t expect to be bathed in the usual garri and sand mixture. In fact, I didn’t expect to be disturbed at all. Looking back at that day, tears filled my eyes… not of sadness; but of joy, fulfillment and accomplishment. Many wished, many prayed, many sacrificed but… I am grateful.

Well, since reading and writing is my hobby, I decided to give the story of my childhood diary a shot on my blog and of course, to share how filled I am with joy. Today marks a great day in my life, not only because I am a year older again, but for His remarkable presence in my life. If not for my diary, I could hardly have remembered what happened on the 24th, eight years ago; as the saying “Man proposes…God disposes” has taken its major toll in my life.

This is also an avenue to celebrate my friends, most especially the January peeps (it is basically about us anyway); and to say thanks for being a part of me. From January till December, may God keep us all together. To my natural enemies, I beg you to celebrate with me now for the time shall come soonest, when ye shall celebrate me. To my natural and artificial friends, I know not what I have done to deserve your friendship, may God continue to strengthen the bond. To those I left on the way and vice versa, thanks for teaching me life’s lessons. To those I’m yet to meet, I await perfectly, that special role you have to play.

Special dedication to my January pals. Happy birthday to you all in arrears, at the moment, and in advance respectively.

cc: Omotola (Jan4), Bolaji (Jan7), Precious (Jan9), My aunt, Remmy and Blexin (Jan12), Olive (Jan16), Gbemiga (Jan17), Enniola (Jan18), @diamondkid007 (Jan20), @iamtobie (Jan22), Chinonso (Jan23), Tunde Nexes, Ameen, @iam_lawee, Ewe-Titi, Dami Rotimi and Kayode (Jan24), Chinenye nwam (Jan27), Oluwaceun Shifi (Jan30) and Olayinka (Jan31).

To others out there, January or not; we all know how special we are and how very much we love our months. Thanks so much for being a part of me, I will always love and cherish you.

All the while it’s been @Bilkisses; and before I forget, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME, MYSELF AND I!!!

For table reservations and bookings on where to drop your gifts, don’t forget to holla before tickets get sold out!
😀

‘kisses always!

Moments till late…

I still remember vividly how we met. It was just three months before… The unforgettable three months of my 2011.

* * * * *
Last week in september, it was. A friend and I went to meet him at the cinema. He was so funny… we “forcefully” saw a movie together. He kept cracking me up, telling me I “funkified” my name et al. I thought to myself that because he had a great british accent, he would never stop talking… Oh, and of course, he never did.

Three months it was… Three months of disturbance… Three months of friendship… Three months of visit… Three months of change…

We didn’t see in about three weeks. He would call me up on different occasions – “come see me” he’d say, in his british accent. But then, I was always “busy”. If only I had known he wasn’t going to be around for long, I probably would have been the one bothering.

We got talking one day, and I can never forget the joy it brought me to find out we were almost birthday mates. 24th and 25th?… So close. We had a few other things in common and he usually teased me with compatibility. He liked to talk, but not just talk, he always made sense.. He told me things that necessarily shouldn’t be told. He had a dream. It was just three months, yet I knew so much.

Trust me, it’s almost impossible to put every memory into words. Is it when I got a free iRep Tees from him two weeks after we met, just so I could rep him at his party at Oniru? Is it all the visits he paid to my house or his favourite chair in the house? Is it the money he just woke to give me one early morning, because he said I “sounded” broke the previous day when we were together? Is it strolling to the pharmacy with me to get multivitamin because I complained I wasn’t feeding well? Is it sending almost all my songs to his phone because he felt I had a good sense of music? Oh my, what a friend he had become… in such a short while.

Dec 25, 2011… a day I would never forget in a hurry. He actually wanted me to tag along to Elegushi… But my last reply was that I was going to eat “Christmas rice” at my friends’ and so couldn’t go. If only I had known that would be the end… If only I had known his status wouldn’t change… If only I had known his dp wouldn’t… If only I had known that was the last opportunity to see him alive. He didn’t send any bc messages that night…or the next day. And then our mutual friends status the next day… “No! This can’t be true, syntillate!!”

I confirmed my fears. I pinged his battery out, Syntillate wouldn’t reply me. I called his phone, Gafar wouldn’t pick up. It was like a movie to me, I didn’t want to believe it was real but of course, it was. His phone kept ringing but nobody answered. I rushed to my friends house… But then, I had confirmed my fears. It was all over!! The good times were put to a hold. It was just a few days to the new year… A few weeks to our birthdays. But it was all over… Syntillate was dead!

* * * * *
I still grieve. It’s a year now, and I still grieve. It seems like yesterday. I remember crying my eyes out as he was being buried. I will never forget him in a hurry. I had the best three months anyone could have had with him in five years. The memories will continue to linger. I miss Syntillate, I miss Gafar. May he continue to RIP.

This is dedicated to everyone that has lost someone, may God give you the fortitude to bear the loss. And may the dead continue to rest in peace. To those who haven’t, may you never experience the pain that comes with the inevitable.

I remain @Bilkisses
#IRepSyntillate

‘kisses always!

The “Banging” Escapade

With the feeling of guilt, I heaved a deep sigh.

Dimeji wasn’t just good looking, he possessed all the physical qualities an average babe will want in a guy. He also had the softest voice. Little wonder I didn’t even make him finish his sentence before I said “yes”. Yes to what?… I had no idea. All I had been thinking of was he asking me out on a date, and to that, my irrational “yes” reply. Every girl automatically wanted to be with him, as I could see the way other babes at the venue were staring at me. Can you imagin the Idris elba-height kinda guy, with the trey songz look and to cap it all, the Ik Osakioduwa voice?… My gosh, he was breathtaking. Well, thank goodness I had said yes.

His expression was that of concern… or so I thought. Then the next I heard was “yes?? But why? Why did u do it?” I was lost in thought. Why did I do what? I was confused and felt immediately sad; as his eyebrows quickened together, to form a curve. Even at that, he exuded sex appeal and confidence. I tried to get myself back together to remember why exactly I was there in the first place.

Get Arena was unusually over populated. My friends and I needed a break from shoprite, so we decided to chill there. Having gotten there, we all wanted to do something different at the same time, and so we parted ways. I saw Dimeji at the car park, when he approached me to ask if I had seen his little niece he came with, describing her. My first encounter with him was priceless. I wished so bad there and then, that I had seen his niece. It would of course, have been the greatest opportunity to get connected with him. I therefore went on my own search, ignoring all the fun I wanted to have. In fact, I was already having fun. I made sure I checked out every little girl I came across but it was all to no avail. I almost gave up when I saw her running towards me, being chased by her other colleagues, all of them laughing hysterically. I knew immediately I had hit jackpot and so carried her. I asked her a few questions, in which she answered boldly and so I gave she and her friends some chocolates from my shoprite bag. Little did I know she was allergic to peanuts, and would take her only a few minutes to react.

Dimeji walked up to us, glad I found his niece, and we got talking. It seemed like we had been talking forever as we moved towards his car. I didn’t take note when his niece left me. I was so thrilled talking to Dimeji and just waited patiently for him to ask for my number and ask me out on a date; at least I found his niece. The next thing I heard was him asking me out, and then I said “yes” without hesitation, smiling sheepishly. But the expression on his face brought me back to my senses and so I figured.

Little Oyin was almost red. She kept “banging” her head on the car, and on anybody she came across, throwing tantrums. I was scared as I didn’t know what was happening. Then he asked me, “why?” “Why did you do it?” She’s allergic to peanuts, you shouldn’t give strangers stuff” He wasn’t smiling anymore. He got a bottle of water from his car and made sure he filled her up, until she puked. Before then, she kept “banging” everything she came across, instilling more fear in me. I then figured, the chocolate I gave her was taking Dimeji away from me. I felt so bad, tried to calm him down, acting like I wasn’t scared myself. But that was it, he probably wasn’t even interested in me in the first place.

I not only didn’t get his number, I was speechless till I got home and couldn’t stop thinking about the “banging” escapade little Oyin put us through. But I also learnt a lesson, never to give edible things to strangers, without of course, asking first.

Oh, and by the way, what were you expecting?

All the while, it’s been @bilkisses … Much luv and ‘kisses always.

Helping Hands…

Do you have items NEW/OLD you would like to give away? Or even those you think you’re not willing to, but have had them kept for long?? This is the right time to help. Please be blessed without stress… send to “HelpingHands” and let’s help put a smile on someone’s face today!

For more info, please contact @helpinghandsng, @omo_tesi @mz_cutielicious or @jalabanks
Thank you and God bless as you do…

Much love and ‘kisses always.

The “big girl” philosophy

A big girl isn’t the one who wears a big make up to school everyday… or the one, who carries the biggest fancy bag on campus. She also isn’t the one who chats with every lecturer or the one who looks down on other girls. A big girl is that girl with attitude, charisma; that girl who can go through any crisis without loosing her sanity. In times of conflict, a big girl doesn’t resort to violence. She doesn’t explode in anger, neither does she ignore the bone of contention. She doesn’t pout, whine or fuse about unrelated issues. Knowing fully well the use of one’s tongue wisely proves maturity, a big girl uses hers very carefully as she always remembers in every situation that “reckless words pierce like a sword”.
Unlike little girls, big girls think through to their natural conclusion. They see more than one side to any situation and always think about how their actions will affect others. They do not take things personally as they understand that life is never all about them. Big girls are good, fair and reasonable negotiators. Like “little girls”, they may like fairy tales but they like true stories too and are well aware of the differences. They may tire, but won’t allow their fatigue to control their general attitude and demeanor. A big girl is that girl who overlooks transgressions and doesn’t think automatically that she understands the intentions of the opposite sex (whatever they may be); unlike the little girls who think “alone” is “lonely”, the big girls know that no relationship is better than a bad relationship.
A big girl lives honestly as a true friend; she says what she means and means what she says. She knows what is best for her and is disciplined enough to go after it. She hears what other people say but she doesn’t always take their words into her mind and dwell on them, because she knows that her feelings is up to her and no-one else.
I know so many big girls… Trust me when I say the list is endless. The question is are you a big girl? Do u keep big girl companies?? Is your sister a big girl? Or even you girlfriend? There is so much fun and freedom of living to be discovered as a big girl, why not try being one.

To all the big girls I know, thanks for being a part of me. What would I have done without you peeps.
I still remain @bilkisses Much love and ‘kisses always.

Ref: Jan Silvious- Big girls don’t whine.

He called it pride…

I’m telling this story, not because Ade is a bad person, but because it finally ended. I’m telling it, not because I deserve pity, but so, others might learn from it. I’m telling it, not because I am sad, but because I am full of joy. I am Temitope, and this is my story.

* * * * * * *
The Chelsea and Barcelona match which usually lasted 90mins seemed like the whole day. I didn’t know why it took that long, especially as I had watched with Ade on several occasions. The match just wouldn’t end… The guyz wouldn’t go to their houses… The children would not sleep… And I could not leave the kitchen.
What seemed like eternity was just the beginning of my story.

I scuffled up, glancing directly at the clock, It was 2:25am. I had slept off in the kitchen. Oh, I remembered the match. It must have finally ended, and probably, Ade slept off in the sitting room as well hence, forgetting to wake me in the kitchen. I hurried with the intention of waking him too. The sitting room was in a mess. Ade was not there. Cigarette sticks on the floor, empty bottles lying on the couch and to cap it all, the lights were on. How could he have been this nonchalant and insensitive. What could have happened while I was deep asleep. I shuddered at my thought, picked up the bottles tirelessly and dropped them in the kitchen. I adjusted the sofa, switched off the tv and put off the light. I picked the children’s school bags on the dinning table and entered into their room.
Keji was lying stomach-faced to the bed, her mouth slightly opened with saliva dropping on her arm. Dimeji, on the other hand, as always, had one of his legs folded and the other, hanging by the bed side. His bed, wet already as he kept snoring. Oh, my boy. I was always happy to see my children. I covered them up properly, switching off the light as I strolled across to what was supposed to be me and my husband’s room. I was still trying to understand why he left me in the kitchen and went to bed, when I heard the bang on the door.

Our 4th year anniversary took place a few months ago. In the period of our marriage, none of us had ever slept out. Not even when I got the job as a waitress. He made sure I rejected late offers until I resigned.
I jolted at the noise coming from the sitting room, it brought me back to my senses. Just as I was about confirming it wasn’t Ade, by checking in our room, the door flung open. Oh my, Ade didn’t lock it. I shivered, and hence went ahead to the sitting room. It couldn’t have been anyone but him anyway.

* * * * * * * *
The memories of that day remain with me like my loss will forever. They were armed! I cried hell when Dimeji was shot in the head while he was sleeping. Keji kept screaming and shouting until she was gagged. I was scared they’ll hurt her too, so I did as they demanded. In the presence of my husband, I was raped by the gang of men there. He couldn’t help but cry but periods after that became hell. Ade insisted I had a hand in Dimeji’s death, My own son! He insinuated it was my pride that killed him. He even called me a whore for allowing them “make love” to me. He said since they had shot dimeji, I shouldn’t have agreed to their terms, because “he was sure” they were not goin to harm Keji too. I cried bitterly each time we had a fight and he went in that direction. Afterall, I wasn’t the one that left the doors opened. I wasn’t the one that left the lights on. It wasn’t my fault I slept off in the kitchen, and he left me there because of his friends.

I suffered Ade’s humiliation for a whole year before I figured I couldn’t take it anymore. We finally signed the divorce papers last month with me taking custody of Keji. But like I said earlier; Ade is not a bad person, please don’t judge him. No man will feel comfortable living with a woman like me again. Oh, please don’t pity me as well, one thing I’m certain of is the fact that, it will never happen again.

All the while, it has been @bilkisses Please feel free to drop your comments and follow up for better stories to come. Much love and ‘kisses always.

DO YOU ‘GHED’ IT NOW?

*shrugs* I was practically among the last set of peeps to hear about this, and guess what, I didn’t feel good at all *sad face*. Being the last is… ermm….ok, I don’t need to continue that sentence. I’m sure most of you already know and that’s why everyone strives to be at the top.
However, my generous attitude has got me writing this, because I’m sure there are still some out there who would miss out, well except through this. (Oh, you’re most welcome) *winks*
So having heard, I requested to meet the young man behind it – John Tuki – himself. The man behind many scenes, many songs – just a minute, have you heard “ACOUSTIC” or “WHAT’S YOUR NAME”? Or … Oh, don’t even let me get started. You should get to meet him too. Unknown to many, John Olaoye Tuki popularly referred to as JAY TUKI is an undergraduate in one of the best universities of technology in the country, FUTA noni 😉 While attending to both his academics and career, he was the 2nd runner up in the “Rise of the Real” competition organized by ONE MIC NAIJA and TOOXCLUSIVE.COM. His versatility towards music is natural and as a result of this, he sings, raps and also produces good music. He’s the brain behind fast rising act (Slay)’s “pop something” and has also done several joints with ‘Ikon”, the producer amongst others. Just as his next official single titled #GHED is been anticipated, I came across him and got this interview from the creative genius himself. Please enjoy!
Q: You started your music career and caught the attention of music lovers with the name “Jon d don”, why the change?
TUKI: Change is a constant phenomenon in life. Also, I needed a brand that can easily be related to, which portrays my originality.
Q: What genre will you classify your style of music?
TUKI: “confused music”
*cuts in* lol, but there’s no genre like that, are you bringing up yours and why “confused music”?
TUKI: Thing is, I could wake to do something different, unique and crazy in the studio…and at anytime. I don’t want to limit myself. Hence, “confused”.
Hmmmn
Q: When was your first attempt?
TUKI: In 2005.
After secondary school, I did a song about Nigeria. That was the only way I could prove my patriotism to my motherland. I didn’t produce it though; a guy I met in church did .
Q: What/Who inspires you?
TUKI: Music inspires me. Music is like the earth to me. It revolves. All styles of music we have now are modifications of the other styles of music in the past. So I’ll say, I get inspired by listening to other people’s music.
Q: How many songs have you recorded as an artist?
TUKI: Over 40 songs… I’ve lost count sef *laughs*
Q: Your “yet to be released single” #GHED, what does it stand for?
TUKI: GHED means “Get High EveryDay”. It’s like a sort of motivation to the youths doing positive things in life. It’s an acronym for uplifting every youth in order not to lose focus.
Q: Hmmmn… I was actually defining it literarily o… as in, “get high” alcohol-wise or *clearing throat*
TUKI: Haba!! Nooooo o!! Let’s leave that part o. It’s just having maximum fun without thinking twice.
Q: LOL. So when is the much anticipated single dropping?
TUKI: GHED drops this month. Y’all should watch out and keep your fingers crossed.
Q: One last thing. What advice would you give to aspiring musicians/upcoming acts like you?
TUKI: In no position to advice yet o, but I’ll just tell them to keep working and never stop.
Q: Okay o. It was really good to have you here Tuki. I’m sure everyone will look forward to this single and definitely, another interview session in the nearest future.
TUKI: My pleasure ma’am.

Thanks to you all for taking out time to read this. Promise to keep you posted. By the way, don’t forget, be #GHED’ed today and #ghed an opportunity to meet the real deal!! Feel free to ask him any questions here to get instant answers. You can also follow him on twitter @Jay_tuki
All the while, it has been @Bilkisses *Much love and ‘KISSES always!*

*Special thanks to #TeamGHED for the support in putting this together.*

Feel free to download previous songs here —>
http://t.co/WFnilbc #40bars produced by Ikon
http://www.hulkshare.com/cyzxmpfq2jgg #Survivor
http://www.hulkshare.com/xjjwko5djlds #Acoustic freestyle

Oh, and by the way, do u “ghed” it now?? 😀

Cakes by ‘Kisses

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For a business which started out in 2012 and is  owned by the blogger Bilkisses, #CAKEBY’KISSES has grown over the years into a reputable group you can count on always for your events.

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Much love… And #kisses always!

Bilkisses….

MISPLACED PRIORITIES – My 2 cents

The mood was Enya’s … She had taken absolute control. You could Google one of her songs to actually be in the same state of mind, but then my aim is to take you there right? It was late at night, my friend Kelvin Elamah had just pinged. I didn’t need him to remind me about dropping a post, I just knew I had to keep my promise of blogging at least once every month…and yes, it was about time.

Well, I let “Enya” sink in… she knew how to pass her messages across even without saying anything most of the time. The instrumentals left you longing and wanting… I was able to relate perfectly because trust me, that was all that my mood reflected. I searched my cerebrum carefully and remembered “THE MISPLACED PRIORITIES” and thus, decided to share.

* * * * *

*click*… and the post was streaming.
*mixed feelings* She didn’t know if to stop it or not, To her it seemed like forever.
“don’t send“…”don’t deliver”… she started to hope.
“well, deliver sef”… “IDGAF”… “I’m sure it will be alright”… She said to herself again and again.

It was the Instagram craze and if you didn’t have enough “likes” on your post, you weren’t “big”. This apparently concerned her.

“finished…Post successful” it read, and she nervously logged out.

Barbara went to her room to get her Biology textbook (yeah, exams were around the corner), while she patiently awaited the number of likes she hoped to get. She logged in after about 5minutes, but she had just “two likes” from an “@ericcolikesgirls” and “@you_can_fxck_with_me”. Well, those were her frequent likers. She needed more. She decided to tag random people.

Barbara tagged almost thirty followers and then she started getting “likes”. She started “double tapping” on other followers posts, and yeah…she got the attention she was seeking. Those ones returned the favour by liking her picture too. It was “like for like”, there was no dulling. Within an hour, Barbara had 50 shades of likes. Of course, she wanted more. What was the use of having followers if they were not going to like your pictures. At least, she knew many others who had a 100 likes within minutes despite not being celebrities. She hadn’t seen any like from Frank, so she sent him a private message.

“Hey Frank, it’s Barbara. I just posted a picture on IG, go like it please.” …and then she remembered she had been chatting with a few other friends earlier. She sent several other private messages to them asking them to go like her most recent picture. She didn’t forget to call her bestie and acquaintances to tell them the news and ask them to go like her picture.

@Isuckpussies couldn’t stop giggling. “Who was this novice?” he thought to himself. Why did she tag him to like her pictures. When did he even start to follow her. It must have been one of his “free days”. Those days he enjoyed following back random people to make them happy. “I would ignore her”, he thought again. “I would make sure to like other people’s pictures but will skip hers”. “Damn, see how she looks sef” “Is that how to pose for pictures these days?”. Then the thought clicked. “I probably should like her picture and send a personal message”. She definitely will reply… That way, I’ll hook up with her and wouldn’t even stress it.

…and of course, she did reply. “OMG!!! Did this famous guy on IG just send me a message?”, she thought. “Oh yes, he did.”  she replied herself. He was insta famous, but he still noticed her. She was really happy. She couldn’t overcome her joy. She felt on top of the world. It was her turn to “shine”. She “knew” if she replied him, they would become friends and he will ask his friends to follow her too. She “knew” it will gain her more followers. She imagined being insta-famous too… She went through his profile again just to be sure it wasn’t an impostor, but of course, it was @Isuckpussies, one of the most famous guys on IG. 
She went through his recent likes and clicked on @yournextbabymama’s photos. She had exactly 723 likes within 2 hours. Barbara scrutinized the pictures carefully and started planning on how to take her next pictures. She “knew” she had to expose her boobs, lucky her she was really endowed. She “knew” she had to be raunchy as that would entice the likers. Barbara decided she would have to stalk the “league of extraordinary sexy ladies” to make this amount of likes be hers in her next post.

The question; when did we misplace our priorities? When did social media become the most important thing to us? Some people even go there to break up and make up?

What if you post a picture and no-one likes it? Would it make you feel bad and think less of yourself?
Why is it that “beautiful” (or “endowed” as the case may be) people post more pictures than “ugly” people? Imagine the happily married woman whose husband left her because she decided to share “daring” pictures on IG.
Why do some people go to the extent of tagging or even begging people to like their pictures? Is social media the new book of life?

A wise man once told me “It is imperative to know what’s right. Don’t lose your consciousness trying so hard to please the world”. Those things don’t really matter. How is it even possible that we like peoples’ pictures, no matter how many times we see them BUT never ask about their wellbeing? The world could be a much lovable and better place to cohabit, if we didn’t take trivial things like these so seriously. I am in love with social media and it’s attention, no doubt…everyone should be in this modern age. However, a balance in life is always a necessity, DON’T MISPLACE YOUR PRIORITY.

DISCLAIMER: This is purely a work of fiction. Resemblance to any person or incident is purely coincidental and unintentional.

Bilkisses….

Almost A Bride

Photocredit-www.google.com

Weddings and their stories… I can imagine most people have one story or the other to tell about weddings they were either invited to, or they planned themselves. Wedding stories could go from being funny to annoying, and then even surreal…depending on the bride most times, and often times, the groom. Some have shared stories of how brides didn’t attend their wedding because  they were not ready or perhaps, how it was the groom that was being chased around.

*deep sigh*

My story wouldn’t have been any different, I suppose I’ll leave that for you to judge. Now please, don’t blame me. Though this happened on my wedding day, it could happen to anyone!

Osasu ran up to me swinging hard, I almost fell. She got back into the country the previous night and was so anxious to see me. We had been planning the wedding via viber since Kelvin proposed and she couldn’t conceal her joy for me. I was happy too, though deep within me, the strange feeling of not being ready kept lurking around. Just two  months before, I had met kelvin. I was probably moved by the way he proposed, hence my sudden “Yes”. So many thoughts crossed my mind, I was getting married! It was my turn to be the center of attraction.

He kissed her passionately… You know that moment when the officiating minister says “You may kiss the bride”. She was full of joy, as their lips interlocking sent fresh memories my way. I wanted badly just as she did, to be her chief bride’s maid but each time I prepared for a wedding, I always had this part of me holding back and thank goodness she understood quite well. Though I wasn’t in the bridal train, one thing I was sure of was the fact that nobody was happier than I was for her. We were not just childhood friends; we were a family… all we got for eachother since we lost both our parents in the same fatal accident years before. The couple were swept along by the force of their emotions, as the congregation clapped unendingly. I sat there, lost in thought and then I did it again! That fear… that feeling… I was sure I was never going to get married- I concluded I would just be a nun.

Jolting back to reality, Osasu presented me with my makeup kit – she was ready for me. It was my wedding and I was ready to break the jinx. Who would have thought? Everyone around me seemed really happy for me and it made me even more fidgety. Though it wasn’t my “dream come true” like it would be for many others on their wedding day, it was something I was glad to be getting into. She started the makeover while I sat there, slowly drifting back to her wedding, just two months before.

“That was intentional!”, I snapped. He apologized, with a handkerchief in his hands, trying to dab my gown. I had earlier decided nothing will change my mood; it was my bestfriend’s wedding and even though I wasn’t in her bridal train, I needed to stay happy for her. “That was so intentional!” I repeated, and again with an apologetic remark, he replied. He stood, feigning ignorance… Embarassed, I had to put up a smile and let it go. He said he was also carried away with the couples’ kiss and didn’t realize he spilled his drink on me while trying to place it on the table. I smiled and a conversation ensued. Even though I wasn’t really paying attention, I was thrilled to be meeting someone for the first time at a wedding. Yes, I literally met many people all the time, I just never allowed myself to get along with one until now. Surprisingly, we had a lenghty discussion and when it was time to dance, I was as free as a bird. Osasu was mesmerized, she had always tried to hook me up at weddings but I never gave in. Seeing me so carried away with this stranger who happened to be one of her husband’s acquaintances was her greatest joy as she didn’t stop giggling and murmuring into her husband’s ear.

His kiss reminded me of my first, many years ago. Gosh it was just three hours and I was already into him. We embarassingly made out in the guest room where he lodged for the wedding; and that was the beginning of a love affair between Kelvin and I. Moments passed and we figured we couldn’t do without each other, and even though I just wanted to go on with the relationship and probably start up a family because I was still very scared of weddings, Kelvin thought otherwise and proposed.

I let it flow freely, the tears. This was really happening, though I didn’t understand why I was really crying. It was either because he went against my wish of proposing to me or because I was overwhelmed. I looked again, and it was Kelvin right in front of me, on bended knees, with a ring. He had just proposed and still after about two minutes, I was yet to accept or decline. The gathering crowd brought me back to reality; we were at the beach and in order to keep them at bay, I made the decision. With the biggest hug, I said “YES!”. I accepted to be his bride… to go contrary to my belief of being anti-wedding… I decided I was going to be the center of attraction on  a wedding day.

Standing in front of the officiating minister was Kelvin. He looked so different, giving me the “all is well” look. I was overwhelmed by the crowd of people present and then the thought crossed my mind…again; but this time the minister had just asked my side of the question and with a sigh of relief, I said “I do”. It was all over… I felt the touch of his lips on mine, and realized I had been lost in thought again. I responded quickly to the “you may kiss the bride” episode that was on. It wasn’t as bad as I thought afterall. My joy was unquantifiable and even my subconscious wouldn’t stop giggling. Though, I had always had the dream that I was almost a bride but couldn’t become one, my reality set me a different goal.

This is wishing everyone getting married this weekend a happy married life in advance. May God bless your new homes. To others getting married before the year runs out, wishing you the very same, but don’t forget to place your cake orders from #cakesbykisses.

Much love and kisses always.

Bilkisses….

Slaughter House

*ring* *ring* *ring*…
Eki’s handset had been buzzing all day, but she couldnt move. One of her broken ribcage, smashed legs or almost lifeless body prevented her. Somehow, she wondered why she was still alive when everyone she loved or cared for was either dead or dying. Eromosele laid lifeless beside her, and all she could think of was how they got themselves in that mess. She wept again while fervently hoping and praying for a miracle to happen.

*          *          *          *          *
It was the February elections in the country and everybody was on edge as expected. It was rumored that the military tried to take over. Though, deep down everyone knew that if they tried, they would succeed. Farmers were figuratively prohibited from farming, most children were allowed only to their schools and back home. Even workers were not left out as their loved ones persistently called if they were gone for too long. Despite the tension, the malls were still crowded, the beach still saw the presence of happy people. It was the country’s idiosyncrasy, everyone was “suffering and smiling”. Apprehension was the order of the day as the elections drew nearer. It was exactly two weeks to go, and the various unions’ strike action weren’t helping. The famous JKL opposition candidate who was even more likely favoured by the masses had just announced his intention to step down due to “personal reasons”. Hitherto to his announcement, everyone figured he would win the election. The effect of his decision was widespread strike actions, unwarranted bomb blasts, stampede, amongst others.
*          *          *          *          *

There they were, Eromosele and Eki in the middle of nowhere with many carcasses in sight; witchhunted like the animals in the forest and left to die. Eki tried to open her eyes again. There was nothing to do but hope and pray. Hope that somehow, someone will save her; while praying that God kept her alive for that “someone” to save her; or better dead, to put an end to her misery. She had been there for three nights and she was still loosing blood.The smell of the lifeless bodies scattered in different corners of the living room nauseated her, but she was as good as dead anyway and didn’t deem the odour fit to think about.

Boom! Boom!! Boom!!! Oh, It was the bomb blast again. There was nothing to be worried about. It could be the neighboring town or farther. It happened a lot these days and there was nothing to fear. Almost everyone was used to the countless lives lost daily. Just a few panicked, the few who still had hope in themselves and their country. Sola was one of those few. He couldn’t stop panicking. He had allowed his kid sister to talk him into taking her to the mall after so much whining. She was so persuasive. She was his only sibling and he cherished her with his life. Upon getting to the mall, Sola left her to window-shop, and after a while decided it was time they left. Then he went in search of her…

He was helpless when he woke. He had been injected and was unable to move. All he saw in blurry eyesight were carcasses; and then people hovering above his head talking about what “the politician needed”. He felt angry; they talked about him like a commodity in the market. They talked about his body parts like they were spare parts. He tried to move, all to no avail. He remembered his little sister, the one for whom he had rushed into the strange building having called and searched tirelessly for her for hours… The one for whom he had been apprehended. Sola didn’t know what will become of him, but he decided to pray too; while hoping he would somehow be set free. But when it was time, they had no mercy on him. He screamed at the top of his voice, but he was mutilated and dumped into the heap…the bodies on the floor, that was fast becoming a heap.

Eki jolted back to reality…again. Yes, she was sure she heard a scream; and she was sure it came from the same house. She thought about how she screamed when she was being mutilated. She knew it was another victim and that she wasn’t alone. But just then, like the scream she heard, she heard continuous gunshots and then noises of people. Minutes later, they came into the room she was and searched for the ones that were still alive.

Though Eki left the haunted house alive, thanks to the rescue team; she didn’t live to see her story being published after she narrated her ordeal on the hospital bed. She left a last quote: “ELECTION IS NOT A DO OR DIE AFFAIR, DON’T BE VIOLENT”.

To my wonderful readers, this is wishing us all a violent-free election come valentine’s day. Don’t forget, it is your RIGHT to vote, don’t be left out. May the BEST MAN win!

Bilkisses….

THANK YOU

Like I’ve always said; “HOW CAN I BE UNGRATEFUL?”

Wow, 365 days without writing anything is definitely a form of punishment. No, please don’t crucify me yet… I definitely missed doing this too. I am SORRY!

This isn’t about how many times I have successfully made it through, but about how many times I successfully got it back together.

I remember ending 2013 with a promise to be back… I remember every detail when I got my annual review from WordPress and really felt on top of the world. I remember the divorce I had with uncertainties in my life(My divorce), though giving me a fresh start, didn’t stop me from setbacks. Pardon the awkward silence, thank God I wasn’t lost forever.

To the likes of temiwrites my number one blogging inspiration; tohlublaize the one and only iAsk boss; El’sama, my motivator; my super cool “Kelv on the MIC” and a host of others who wouldn’t let a day pass by without urging me to get back into the “blogosphere”, I dedicate this short piece to you’all. THANKS for never giving up on me.

To the new and super humans I met this year, it’s been an honour getting acquainted with you. I will always cherish every moment. To the impatient ones that lost me, please understand that nothing lasts forever… I understand it too. May you find peace in your hearts.

Looking back, I couldn’t have been happier. I wept through of course, having lost one of the best things in my life mid-year (my dad), but then again, how can I be ungrateful?

Looking back, I know deep in my heart that the year was one of my best so far, having also had several achievements. Even jaywon MIGHT not have this much story to tell after singing “this year” (Please don’t quote me though).

I lost…but I definitely gained. I sobbed…but I definitely smiled. I wept…but I definitely laughed through. It was my perfect year, so how can I be ungrateful?

I remember exactly how it all started. Every detail about the first day of the new year, the first of January, 2014. But hey, it’s the first of another year in a few… It’s 2015! Why don’t you just relax through it, while of course making the best of your year and let me give you the best time of it, God-willing.

This is officially saying thank you all for standing by despite the distance. I wish you a prosperous new year!!

Kisses always.

Bilkisses….