I was making yam porridge this afternoon since it was my turn to cook for me and my girlfriend.

Just as I was pouring palm oil into the boiling water, she suddenly stormed into the kitchen from the backyard where she was doing our laundry, panting like someone who had just finished a marathon race.

"What is this, Desmond?" she said, waving something across my face.

"What is it?" I asked, dropping the bottle of palm oil on the kitchen counter.

"What is this picture doing in the pocket of your trousers?" she held out the thing to me. It was a picture of a smiling lady—my ex-girlfriend, Susanna.

"Desmond, what is this picture of Susanna doing in your pocket, eh?" she continued in anger.

Me: It's just a picture.

Girlfriend: *screaming* It's just a picture what? Desmond, isn't this your ex-girlfriend, Susanna, eh? What are you doing with her picture?

Me: Baby, it's not what you're thinking.

Girlfriend: What do you mean it's not what I'm thinking. What man walks around with the picture of their ex-girlfriend?

Me: I wish you know how much this picture benefits both of us. If you knew, you won't be shouting like this.

Girlfriend: How does you cheating on me benefit me?! Eh, Desmond? In fact, I think you still like her. I think you still like her.

Me: No, I actually don't like her. I want her.

Girlfriend: *her brows crinkle in shock* What?

Me: Yes, I want her. And I'm not the only person who wants her. The police want her, too. She's a wanted woman.

Girlfriend: *confused* What do you mean?

Me: The police want her. She was involved in the kidnapping of a child, so they were distributing pictures of her around.

Girlfriend: You don't mean this.

Me: I'm serious. Very serious... *takes the picture from her with a smile*... And I plan to make other copies, as the police want us to make and distribute pictures of her in hopes of catching her. They said they'll reward the person that finds her with 50 million naira.

Girlfriend: *eyes sparkling* What?

Me: *waving the picture in her face* This is money! This is moving money. I'm only walking around with this picture in my pocket so I can show it to people and ask if they've seen her. Once I catch her, I'll take her to the police station and take the 50 million naira, which will benefit both of us. Don't you want to drive a car one day? Don't you want to visit the Maldives?

Girlfriend: *starts smiling* So she's wanted. You should have told me earlier na. I would have helped you distribute the pictures and search for her.

Me: Yes, she's a wanted, with a bounty of 50 million naira... *hands my girlfriend the picture*... In fact, you should photocopy this picture so you can have a copy to carry around with you when you go around looking for her.

Girlfriend: I'll certainly do that.

Me: But if you find her, don't hold her ooo.

Girlfriend: *confused* Why? I thought you wanted us to catch her.

Me: You know Susanna is much bigger than you are. She might escape or even beat you. If you find her, just ask for her Facebook name, and maybe her phone number and then bring them to me.

Girlfriend: Why na?

Me: I'll submit those details to the police and go with them to arrest her.

Girlfriend: Oh, I understand now.

Me: Yes, as I said earlier, I don't like her. I want her. The police wants her.

Girlfriend: We'll soon be rich.

Me: Yes, we will. You can go and continue with the clothes you were washing. When you're done, we'll go together to make more copies of this picture.

*My girlfriend turns and leaves the kitchen to the backyard*

Me that just escaped:

I attended a friend's housewarming party today, and by the time I got back home, I was drowsy from the beers I had taken.

I immediately climbed into the bed beside my wife and dozed off.

An hour or so later, I felt someone shake me, and slowly I opened my eyes and stared around.

It was my wife, dressed in her pink pyjamas, staring down at me with wide eyes.

Her: *still shaking my shoulder* Wake up! Get up! What are you happy about?

Me: *looking confused and sleepy* Huh? What?

Her: What are you happy about? What are you smiling about in your sleep? Is today your birthday? It's not your birthday, so why are you smiling in your sleep?

Me: *starts stuttering* I—no—wasn't—dreaming...oh.

Her: You see, every time you start stammering, that means you're lying. Why were you smiling in your sleep? In fact, who is she? Who is that woman that is making you smile in your dream?

Me: There was no woman. I was just dreaming.

Her: *sits up on the bed and begins to cry* But this is disrespect of the highest order... *looking at me*... So, your cheating has now become normal that you can even cheat on me while sleeping right next to me? Eh? You cheat on me outside, when you go to parties, at your workplace, at the gym, and now, you've started cheating on me right next to me on the bed.

Me: What are you saying?

Her: Who is she? What is her name? And don't tell me you're dreaming about me. You cannot dream of someone when you're sleeping beside them. If you love them that much, you stay up and watch and talk to them.

Me: I wasn't dreaming about any woman, and I'm not cheating on you.

Her: You know what? Go back to sleep, and tell that woman in your dream that I am here, that when you woke up, you saw me here... *Suddenly bursts into laughter*... And I am here to stay, you know that. I am here to stay. You're married to me, my dear. You're not getting out of this easily. I am here, and I'm here to stay. Now, sleep.

Me: Huh?

Her: Hurry up, sleep! As a matter of fact, let me sleep too so we'll all meet in your dream so I'll meet that woman that's causing you to smile... *turns and lies down on the bed*...

Me: But I'm no longer sleepy because you woke me up with a quarrel.

Her: *turns around facing me* Find out a way of sleeping. I dare you that if I sleep and I get to your dream before you, we'll see if you'll wake up with all your body parts intact.

Me: Nawaooo.

Her: If I were you, I'd be sleeping by now. Trust me, I'll meet you there... *barks out a laughter and shakes her head*... Ha, I can't wait to meet that woman. What does she even look like? Is she tall, dark, fair, or fat?... *shouts back to me*... Better sleep! Sleep oooo. I'll see you there, since you cheat on me during the day, during the night, and even now that you're sleeping beside me. I've seen something.

Me:

No condition is permanent

Happy weekend everyone

Men and women women can never be equal, and feminism is a joke.

I agree with you, black brother. For that same reason, you and a white man can't be equal. He is higher than you, and he'll always be your superior. #Danloader

Everybody exist but not everybody lives.

Find the right values and principle to build your life.

I luv her

Find the right thing in ur life

I can't for the life of me comprehend the reason why men resent that women also have standards.

Like, just as you don't love yanshless girls, she doesn't love "short kings" either.

You hate fat girls, she'd never consider a knock-kneed boy.

You can't marry a girl in her 30s, and she can't marry a broke guy.

She's not good enough for you to wife up since she lacks the flair and allure of Beyoncé. Well, she likes her men as handsome as Alex Ekubo, and since you don't compare, she won't date, let alone marry you.

You would rather date an independent woman for fear of leeches. She doesn't want to build with any man, but prefers one that is already financially established.

Every social media platform is littered with winding dissertations from men detailing their ideal lady and the attributes they desire from/in her.

They set up these unrealistic goals regardless of their charm and personal achievements which, when considered, are most times harrowingly underwhelming.

They want a natural-haired tall girl with commander hips, who is as submissive as a medieval housemaid and as prayerful as a roadside preacher, and who doesn't mind slaving away for them in name of "wife".

They make such posts and comments every day and laugh about it in real life, yet no one reminds them that they're repulsive-looking and that their choices are out of reality.

But the moment a woman states her preference for a six-packed niggā with a house and a car, and whose face doesn't bring to her memory the images of monkeys during sexx, men would flood the posts with indignant remarks.

All you'll be seeing is:

* What guy would marry an uglee girl like you kwanu?
*You want a rich man, but your papa sef no dey rich.
*Is it with this your yanshless self that you're saying you can't date a broke guy?
*You can't date a man in his 40s, but you're looking like someone's grandma.

Why is it so hard for men to accept that woman have standards on the kind of men they want? What makes men feel insecure when a woman lists the wants and doesn't wants she has set for HERSELF regarding the opposite sex?

I mean, I've seen women say they want to date a multimillionaire, and although I'm not a multimillionaire myself, I don't go to the post to fight them over their choices. Standards are nice and normal until a woman has them.

The best thing you'll do for yourself as a woman is to be rude, uncouth and, when necessary, wicked. Strip yourself of shame and set your standards as high as Mountain Everest.

Don't date them if they're poor because they wouldn't date you if you looked like Obasanjo.

P.S.: I noticed that my feminism is not as bitter as I want it to be, so I'm trying to rectify that. Be mindful of your comment as I won't hesitate to use the block button.