Dear Diary – by @EkyShirley
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
If he’s always busy,
The side chic is YOU…”
Mogbe. I nearly died with laughter upon seeing the meme with those words. Ordinarily, it should speak to me, but that would be speaking to a girl who didn’t know she’s a side chic; wouldn’t it? Me, I know my own brand of vice; I’m well aware of my poison.
Men like the guy in the quote above? SO NOT MY CUP OF TEA! And am not much given to second thoughts myself; particularly after I have decided on a course of action. I am a proud assistant girlfriend, by choice. Okay, not so much by my own intentions in the beginning; but after I discovered the goodies of being one, I am sure not going back to being miss goody two shoes. “Her days are overrrrrrrrr” (in my best imitation of Rita Ora’s “RIP”).
I totally forgot to introduce myself. My name is Bimbo and I am a SIDE CHIC (insert response here) Ahn ahn, did you guys not watch oyinbo film when growing up? Search alcoholics anonymous and watch their greetings. Thank me later. Yes, that’s my relationship status; gladly too. Now, you may abhor me for being someone’s husband’s piece of tail on the side; I totally understand. However, if you have walked in my shoes, you may not be so quick to cast aspersions. But please, do your thing.
I used to be a faithful, one-man woman until 4 years ago; when the love of my life ditched me during marriage preparations for another girl. I was your model, Nigerian homely raised woman; so you can imagine what that experience did to me. For all of 15 months, I could not stand the sight of men, even my dad. Then in a bid to pick up the pieces of my life while job hunting, I met Ini. Now, Ini was not the first married or single man to become interested in me; I think the timing made the difference. I was on my way for a job interview when a car splashed water on my clothes. I just burst into tears, like everything that had happened to me prior to that time dawned on me in that instant. Think totally inconsolable, gut wrenching sobs that emanate from the belly. In Ikoyi, no less; I had just alighted from the cab in front of the interview venue when this happened. It literally seemed like my life was over; my will power was gone.
Luckily, the owner of the car was a gentleman. I was in no state of mind to attend the interview anymore. He made me comfortable and watched me as I wailed like a banshee for a long while. He wasn’t condemning or condescending. After a while, he took me to get a replacement for my dress in an exclusive clothes store (so these places described in my novels existed in this Lagos?). That day began a friendship, one that changed my very existence as it were. We were friends first, then lovers; before I knew about his marital status. And while I was disappointed, I was also relieved. It meant I did not have to be in a relationship with its conventional requirements. I could sleep easy, as he would not call me wanting to pass the night with me at mine. I would not be at his beck and call 24/7, like in a normal relationship. Plus, did I mention the perks? I have never been so well taken care of. See, curse me all you want; bring out the morality brigade if you like. But you and I know that every woman deep down dreams of a man who will make her feel like a princess in every way, not just financially. And the heavy pocket is a plus, like it or yes. Afterall, on those days when it gets cold at night and I don’t have a man to hug, my silk beddings help nicely. YES, I said SILK. And the fact that I can hop on a flight and travel where I want, when I want makes up for the impromptu meetings and clandestine trysts. Shey you wey dey curse me ni, if them flex like Ini dey flex me, you go reject am ba? Yes o, you go return the millions wey dey account. Iranu.
Abegi, face your front and let me go to the spa in this hotel o jare. My cookie is arriving in a few hours and I want to arrange him a special session for us both with the masseuse. I have to bring my a-game today; as that trip to Maldives I plan to embark on will not pay for itself *Reaches for waist bead pouch*
Eky Shirley is an unrepentant Liverpool FC Lover. A girl who loves words, books, and good music. She blogs at Eky’s Corner.