Please insert foot here

I’ve been having a very steamy affair with the guy in the office across the hall. Welllllllll, technically, it’s not really an affair. Can’t even call it a friendship since I’m not sure he knows I exist. It’s more like a sordid, x-rated daydream on my part. You can’t blame me people because this guy is hunkalicious! He is very hot, tall and as bald as Kojak. Just the way I like em.


Don’t know if I’ve ever pointed this out before but all those with excessive amounts of body hair, please don’t bother applying for the position of Mr.Mena. I refuse to spend at least 5 minutes everyday looking for my wedding ring, earrings or anything else that decides to get tangled in your unruly body hair during cuddle time. Yes Gentlemen! There will be cuddle time. Lots of cuddle time. I don’t want to hear any of that “REAL AFRICAN MEN” don’t cuddle rubbish. No cuddling. No getting happy. Comprende? Really! Men are just selfish. The expect us to get their initials trimmed into our pumpum hair but will they wax their backs for us? No, of course not because that’s not “Manly”. Yeah! Well, if the Lord wanted my pumpum to be well trimmed at all times, then he would have sent a tiny little gardener to live down there salary free. Nonsense. In fact don’t get me started on male vs. female grooming or we’ll be here all night.

I mean life is just unfair. On many occasions I’ve spent hours getting myself waxed, salt scrubbed and pummeled for a date only to get there and find my date has hair coming out of his nostrils and has something that looks like a mushroom growing on his toenails. Its like you guys think you can turn up naked with nothing covering your bits but body hair and we would still want you (Some of you ladies look like you might be thinking that’s not too bad an option. Please just hook up with your driver if you are that desperate). We spend a fortune primping and preening ourselves and the least we expect in return is a little appreciation for the time and effort this takes but do we get that ladies? Like hell we do. All we get is nagging and questions.



You spent how much on what?

To answer your question. We spend that much on clothes because we’ve seen the Bubu’s your mama wears and whilst they might be cost effective and environmentally friendly, they are also probably the reason your father has 3 concubines, 14 illegitimate children and a bad back from getting his jiggy on every other minute with everyone but your mother. So excuse me if I choose not follow in her footsteps by spending a small fortune on a Deola Sagoe corset which I promise you will enjoy taking off later on(That’s the secret to getting him to pay the bills ladies. Find a way to incorporate S.E.X. into the sentence when discussing your spending and Bobs your uncle).

Why do you always take so long to get ready?

I take that long to get ready so your friends wont spend the next beer fest they have without you discussing how I used to be hot before I started dating/married your impatient ass. Also, I need you to see other men’s jaws drop when I enter a room, so you know to get your lucky ass home every night and stop wasting time in the office with that big boobed akpati mama you call a secretary.



Why must you do your hair every other day?

I HAVE to do my hair every other day because your kinky ass self won’t let me wear my night cap to bed because it apparently spoils your mood when you’re trying to make happy. You make happy without the hairnet you pay for the cost of pimping up my Mexican, Peruvian or whatever country is bloody well charging us obscene amounts of money for hair at the moment.

So please guys, have a little more consideration for us ladies and try to make an effort. Get some sandpaper and work on those crusty feet. Pluck the excess hair around your eyebrows so we know where the right one ends and the left one begins because it sure beats looking like a hairy ass caterpillar crawled up your face and died. I think I have managed to impart some life changing words of wisdom to you all. No need to thank me just giving back to the needy.

Anyway, let’s get back to my Fantasy Guy, who by the looks of him will not be needing any of my male grooming tips.

Saw him for the first time last week, when he came running into the stairwell from the rainstorm outside. His wet shirt was plastered to his very firm abs…

Oh that’s another thing I forget to mention. Future Mr.Mena, I need abs. Only one of us is allowed to have a food baby growing in their midsection and since I have already started nurturing one (Yes my little food induced preggy belly, mama’s gonna feed you in a minute. That’s a good food baby! Coochi coochi Koo), I believe it is only fair that you take on the responsibility of maintaining firm abs and tight buns in the relationship.

Back to my Fantasy Guy, who had raindrops glistening on his shiny bald head. I think I actually tingled when I saw him and that hasn’t happened in a while. He’s walking up the stairs and I knew I just couldn’t let him get away without speaking to him. So as he draws up next to me on the staircase, I say the first thing that comes to my mind…

“Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens”

What the hell? Where did that come from? Why am I singing “Favorite Things” from Sound of Music? Damn my persistent obsession with musicals and show tunes! Knew it was going come back and bite me in the ass some day.

Fantasy Guy looks at me and says “Sorry did you say something?”

A normal person would just have stopped and composed themselves before the said anything to cause further embarrassment but no, not Mena.

Instead I replied

“You know the song they sing when it’s raining in Sound of Music don’t you? I always think of it when it rains.” And I then continued on my path to utter and complete self destruction by finishing off the rest of the 1st verse just so he could see how crazy I really was.



“Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens


Brown paper packages tied up with strings


These are a few of my favorite things”

All the time I was singing, a voice in my head kept telling me to shut up but my brain obviously wasn’t processing the signals. Thanks a lot brain. Trust you to pack up in a moment of crisis.No books for you for a month. Lets see how you like watching Ellen Degeneres for the next 30days. So 1 slow, painful minute later, I stood there as Fantasy Guy looked at me like I had just escaped from Aro and started to inch past me up the stairs without saying a word.

Sigh, I tend to avoid him now as I am too embarrassed to face him again. I have nothing but my lustful thoughts to keep warm at night. Maybe I need lessons on how to win over the opposite sex? Anyone willing to teach me?