25 was when everything was supposed to happen! 2 degrees, working for a top fortune 500 company, married with at least 1 kid. I’m not sure if we were taught this same script at Uni, but everyone seemed to have almost-similar drawn out lists… or is it just my imagination…?
30 came with a bang and I was scared shitless. I had imagined what the 30s would be like while in my 20s. Blame it on the exotic magazines of the time. Ovation magazine was the “ish” before social media became the King! Images of exotic parties with themes from “Coming to America” to Michael Jackson’s “Beat It”. The first birthday party I ever planned was for my 25th. It wasn’t exactly exotic; classic house party with jollof rice made with fire word, fried chicken, 2 cakes (one I ordered myself & the other from the bestie) – and oh alcohol! Nothing extreme, I went with the Smirnoff ice trend least my party would only have Coca-cola and water. I could barely go more than a bottle of Smirnoff without feely woozy. I knew I didn’t have the head for alcohol.
If I’m being apt, I probably started everything late. It was the classic case of the late bloomer! First kiss at 23 (and it was the worst kiss ever. Not what I imagined from all the Mills & Boon novels I had read) first real relationship at 24 (technically, my training ground relationship), first heartbreak at 25 (oh did it hurt so bad & guess there’s no age for when this is “supposed” to happen!). I had read so many romance novels in college that my expectations about a relationship was a picture of a fairy tale, so when I got reality, it was a bit difficult to swallow!
Oops where was I? Back to 30! So for my 30th I decided I didn’t want to be in the country. Having a party here would only make it worse. Questions of what next and when! So it was easier to run away. I almost had a panic attack when Tola put up on her PM;“Welcome to the Big 30” How dare she advertise my worst fear? I didn’t feel older or wiser, just sad! Don’t get me wrong, I probably had my sh*t together, but it wasn’t exactly the “sh*t” I had dreamt of.
The love interests at the time weren’t encouraging. Maybe because I had drawn up a script of the way I wanted to be court. No questions of “have you eaten today?” or “what are you wearing?” They held no depth whatsoever. My principles had classic go-getter, charming enough to get my attention, witty enough to engage in a conversation, and adventurous enough to pull me out of the doldrums that was once my life! I remember saying to the ex that I wanted ADVENTURE! His definition of this was movie nights and long drives through traffic in Lagos. Oh and weddings! It was easier to attend with an arm candy!
I had once dreamt of owning a salon and then it changed to a restaurant, then the focus moved to services, before I finally got the hint. Writing was something I loved. But I was too afraid. My first public attempt to write was turned down with a bang. They said it lacked depth and coherence and that my thoughts were all over the place. Blame it on my raging mind. Once I was in church and I was dreaming of my crush and all we would do while making out. Don’t ask me how I went from divinity to obscenity! I myself could not tell how and why my thoughts derailed… You can even tell from this piece *chuckles* too many details in one paragraph…
At first I had thought call it “Naked” and do one piece, or a series or a book! But then again I said “nah, I’ll start with this and if you like it enough I’ll do a comeback, or maybe not…” I still don’t have all my sh*t together, but then the first sh*t I decided to fix was me!
To be continued (maybe)…