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In 2007, I was 25 going on 26. I was taking one of my many breaks from relationships. My family were pressuring the heck out of me to go marry.

My sister will say, "don't think you'll be young forever." My mom, matchmaker extraordinarie, was introducing me to every young man with pulse. My aunt won't stop talking about how there's an oil on the forehead of every young girl that men are attracted to, but which dries up as she ages. Another aunt said that husbands weren't coming because of my dreadlocks. That once I cut it, I will see the man I want to marry. My uncles were telling me that what they wanted for Christmas was me bringing home a nice young man. My dad was already saying that I had one more year to go, and then there was trouble.

I got tired of fighting them, of arguing. I started feeling bad. I've told you guys before that I was a serial monogamist. I no dey stay for relationship. I'd never been with someone long enough for people to wonder 'well, when are you people getting married?' Before people starts getting comfortable that this person is my boyfriend, we break up and I'm single again. I started feeling bad about it. That perhaps something was wrong with me.

So when my mom came with another man, an American returnee this time, I was more open to be paired with him. He was "exposed", not the typical Nigerian men who will have a problem with my Women Emancipation "nonsense " (back then, feminism wasn't the hot button it is now). So right off the bat, it was decided that if this one doesn't work, the problem was indeed me. So, even without meeting the man, I was determined to make it work. LOL.

I met the guy. Hawwwwwwwwt! Dude was fire! And we really did hit it off. And my word, the sex was AMAZING! This man will kiss you, and you'd orgasm! Unku was skilled! Unku was also an asshole. He liked to make snide comments about Nigerian women, I'd overlook. I figured out that he liked me, and that I wasn't the "typical Nigerian woman", so it wasn't me he was talking about. LOL. Anyway, him and I spent a lot of time together. He'd sleep over at my place, driver me to work, and by evening he was back again, bearing food! He never expected me to cook, and I didn't. It wasn't the most intellectual conversation what we had, but he wasn't dumb, so I managed it. On a scale of 0 to 10, I'd give him 6 - and that's mostly cos he was a sex god, and he didn't bug me to cook. LOL. I wasn't in love, but that wasn't mattered to me at the time. I just wanted to prove to myself that I can stay in a relationship. Cos if I can't even manage a relationship, how am I supposed to manage a marriage? wedding bridals couture in royal blue

Then one day, I asked Unku for N3,000 to lock my roots. I had the money, but I just wanted him to pay for this retouching. Meanwhile, this was my first time asking Unku for anything. I was working, and earning enough to take care of myself. Also, I really don't like asking men for money. Even till date! I prefer to have my own money so I never have to ask Le Husb. Anyway, Unku didn't like being asked AT ALL!!! Dude FLIPPED! All those "Nigerian girls are ..." came home to roost. I was one of them. Ah! I was shocked. I said, oga biko e don do. See, I've the money. Na joke I dey joke. He was not pacified. I was at the salon, unku was still bombarding me with messages. Still gripping. At first, I tried to be a "good girl". I was still apologising. Mister was getting more and more obnoxious. So I stopped.

That evening, he didn't come over. I didn't call him. The next morning, I took myself to work. I still didn't call him. By afternoon, I started feeling a bit bad. So I called him. Twice or more sef. He refused to answer. Next, he sent a message saying how he was disappointed in me, he expected better, this and that. That was the point I decided WHO THE FUCK DOES THIS ASSHOLE THINK HE IS? I was done! I didn't care if I never have another relationship in my life, if I never marry, I WAS DONE!! I sent him a message and told him to go fuck himself. He replied with insults. In one of them, he called me an ashawo. I replied that he should be a bit ore creative with his insults, that a man calling a woman Ashawo is elementary level insult. Then I blocked. Two hours later, he called me with another number. Though I recognised his voice, I gave him a "who is this, please?" treatment. He never called again.

After the incidence, I decided I'd never be pressured into marriage. That I was going to have to do it way. I called my sister and told her: if you're at the bus-stop going to Lagos, you wait at the bus-stop till a Lagos bus comes. You do not jump into a Maiduguri bus, just because it came first.