Father Lord, its not fair o! After all my praying and fasting that I should be invisible to all no hopers, how are these people still finding me? Abi, what is wrong with you people? Can't you see a beautiful and stylish woman without finding cause to harass her? Must you all have a piece of the Mena? Really, I just can’t take it anymore. If I wasn't wanted by the British Aviation police for assaulting a cabin crew member over the minuscule portion the dared to serve me on the flight over here (Come on! She no look me before she bring the food? How is someone my size supposed to survive on prison rations for crying out loud?), I would so be winging my way back to the rainy shores of England. I haven't had a decent nights sleep in 2 weeks (that's my excuse for not blogging by the way) and my once dewy skin is now looking drained and ashy. My enemies who don't want me to marry and leave my insane mothers house, I know this your doing and all I will say is “Back to sender”. Even if it means taking 10 minute naps in the loo at work all day (which is what I suspect Boli Lover does or the man has a serious digestion problem), I will regain my youthful glow and once again be the babe that I am.
Anyway maybe I shouldn't be so hard on all of you, after all this new development is just proving what I've always said…I'm totally irresistible to the opposite sex. Yes, Mena has become a Lagos celebrity by acquiring her very own stalker
Excuse me! I lie about my weight, my age and how many cookies were really left in the box before I started eating. I do not lie about being stalked. It all started with a midnight text when I went to a family do outside Lagos. The darn beeping wakes me up and let me tell you after enduring a 3 hour service in Yoruba followed by a meet the members of the family we never invite over for Christmas dinner session (You know those people you are somehow related to but your mother beats the living daylights out of you if you ever let them touch you or eat any of the candy they bring over), The last thing I want to be is awake. I immediately curse Glo thinking its one of their infernal promotions. I am very grateful that they want me to win a Kia Rio but why can't they send people messages at a reasonable hour of the day instead of scaring the bejesus out of them at 3am? I shall be writing a very stern email to their Head of Business Development.
Don’t you mean Customer Services?
Don't tell me what I mean smarty pants. I happen to have seen the Head of Business Development in a piccie and I know he's a major hottie. Tall and lean, just the way I like em. Although the newspaper picture was a tad grainy, with the aid of my trusty magnifying glass, I was able to determine that he wasn’t wearing a ring (not a totally reliable way of telling if someone is really single around here but it will have to do). So unless the Head of Customer relations happens to be a major hottie as well, all my complaints will be directed to my Glo Boy. Naturally, the letter will be strictly business and nothing to do with me having his love child or anything like that. However if that's what it takes to improve Glo's customer satisfaction levels then I'm willing to take one for the team. You guys can thank me later.
Anyway before I get carried away let's get back to the issue at hand. The text obviously wasn't from Glo (Will still be sending a letter with a picture of me in my sexy wonder woman pyjamas sha. You know give him some eye candy to soften the blow of my harsh, critical words.)But some weirdo, whose name I obviously can't tell u lot just in case he reads my blog. So in order to protect my secret identity(hear that Smug Married chick & her hubby, Market Boy! SECRET identity...Alakoba’s. Until dey sack me finish and I have to move into your BQ, you guys won't be happy) let's just call him Wannabe because he fancies himself quiet a poet.
He begins his 3 text epistle by telling me that despite my height and my fatness(he’s exact words people. Ain't he a charmer?) He thinks I'm hot and has paid someone to get my number. Paid someone to get my number? What is the going rate for a girl's number these day? Is it a flat rate or does it fluctuate with the girl's level of hotness(Gee! Almost feel sorry for the poor guy. He must be broke because I'm bound to be top tier number material)? Anyway he then proceeds to tell me that even though I am from a higher social status, he’s willing to overlook that because love conquers all.
Hehehehehehehehehehehe…Oh Lord please make the pain stop! Someone help me off the floor. I think I might have damaged some internal organs from all the laughing. Brother pleeeeasseee. How dumb do you think I am? You're not looking for love. You're looking for an investment opportunity. Unfortunately Mena Investments is not looking for minority shareholders but major investors and your credentials just don't come up to par mate.
Anyway he sends me texts everyday. Initially Ignored them but since he's a broke ass brother he can only call or text after midnight(Thanks again Glo for creating another brilliant way to keep people up at all hours. What are you guys? The Army of the Living Dead or why can’t you lot do anything between the hours of 9-5pm). So I am constantly being woken up around 1am. I have sent him a polite text to let him know I am not interested but his literacy skills obviously don’t extend to reading either, as he's still at it. What annoys me the most is I have no idea who the prat is?
I initially suspected someone from my ibi ise but who? Ladies Man or Boli Lover? Possibly but they’ve both already made a move so they know I’m not interested. Chipmunk? Highly unlikely. Not sure he can tell the difference between men and women. We’re all just a blur too him. Could it be a member of staff at the house? The Washer man has been grinning at me quite a bit after I made the mistake of leaving rather racy pair lace knickers in the laundry hamper. Or could it be Tony, the driver after he glimpsed a bit too much leg as I was getting out of the car? Oh gee. I’m so confused. The list of men lusting after me is probably endless. Am I to spend all my time looking over my shoulder to make sure I’m not being followed? I need to get me some help. I want my mummy.
“Mum I need help. Some strange man has been calling and sending me texts at all hours and I’m starting to get worried”.
My mother lowers her newspaper and looks at me like I just told her that I was about to forsake the church and become a fetish priestess worshipping Hugh Hefner.
“I’m sorry. I fail to see your exact problem here. A MAN is calling and sending you text and you are worried? Abi you are gay ni? You better kuku kill me and your father and confess now” she says as she starts to roll her newspaper into a weapon of mass destruction.
I know its time to speak fast or risk losing my head in a smacking attack.
“Before you say anything mum, he can’t speak English properly and probably doesn’t have two 100 naira notes to rub together”.
“Oh ho! Afi bế. You should have said that before”
Phew! That was close. If there are 2 things my mother can’t stand it’s not having money and bad grammar. I honestly don’t know……
“Are you sure you like boys”?
“Confess now o”.
“I say confess”.
“Mum stop hitting me with the paper”.
“I said tell the truth. Do you like boys?”
“Stop being silly Mummy”.
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
Owwww! Yes! Yes! I like boys. Now please for the love of all things decent stop hitting me with the paper.
“So where did this illiterate get your number?” She says settling back into her seat like she hasn't just been whacking her 30 something year old daughter with the entertainment section of This day.
Men I'm going to need serious therapy if I stay here much longer.
“I don't know. He says he bought it.”
“Next time he calls, tell him you would like to meet him.”
“Mum are you trying to get me killed?”
“Just do as I say. I will have MOPO waiting for him when turns up. By the time they finish with him he will not know if he's male or female. Now stop disturbing me I’m busy.”
Hmm…Is violence really the answer to this little dilemma of mine? Yep! on this occasion I agree with my mum. Nothing like a good trashing to sort out an annoying love sick man. I think my nights of uninterrupted sleep are about to return. Wannabe you have been warned.