The Thickeness..

So all week I've been listening to Robin Thicke ([sarcasm]shocking huh?[/sarcasm]) and I can't help but think how much he must love his wife. I try to remind myself that when people write, it isn't necessarily a reflection of how they feel. Things are inspired by things we see, things we hear about and don't jave to have anything at all to do with what is going on in our lives.

I still can't shake that "Lucky woman to be loved this much" feeling.

Love breaks.

And somehow, every time it happens, we're shocked.

You sit there and you think, this is just a rough patch, we love each other, so obviously its going to work out. Then you remember that conversation with your friend where she told you on the phone tearfully, "I just *knew* I'd found my own. I was settled. Done. And then it fell apart." And you realize that now, 3 years later, it didn't magically fix itself. They were perfect for each other (even in their own eyes), yet they aren't together. So you pause on those drastic measures you had in your head of just leaving him with nothing but a note, as the realization dawns that the thought of him tracking you down and standing out in the rain telling you how you complete him might actually happen, but probably won't end with the kiss that says and forgives and erases everything.

And so you watch it break and you can't do a thing about it, and you're pissed off that, as usual, John Mayer put it perfectly. Slow dancing in a burning room. And then you wonder, wouldn't we all just be FINE in love and not make dumb mistakes if we just took a class on "Continuum"?

Happy Valentines week, y'all.

The Independent Woman ... sorta.

Inspired by Mgbeks.

So I am an independent woman. Sort of. No I didn't have a job till I had been here a year and daddy definitely paid my rent for the first two years, but tuition was paid by my grades. After that, I managed to get a full scholarship that paid room and board also, and a nice cushy campus job for shopping money. Independent-ish, no?

Anyhoo, 5 years post grad (jay-soo, how times flies), I'm definitely on that "car and a crib [err, no crib. Apartment, thank you very much], she bout to pay em both off, and her bills are paid on time" ish. No help from Daddy. In fact, when I went to Naija self, my father quietly reminded him that I owed him $400 for the local flights he helped me book for my trips while I was at home. Omo, the recession was tough on retirees too.

Trust me, I agree with Mgbeks. Bill paying is NOT fun. Every other day, I look at my bills and wonder why I'm not an I-Banker. Just yesterdayI looked at my credit card bills, and after I paid off all my credit cards last month , balance is back up to $3k. All expenses incurred in a week and a half (wisdom tooth extractions plus car wahala = gbese).

So why then did I, as I got out of my nearly paid off car and walked into my office that provided me the freedom to be "fly effortlessly", pray to God that I want to be able to go out clubbing with the girls and BUY MY OWN BOTTLES without worrying about rent or my down-payment savings?

And it has to be before I marry, and before I'm wearing some mans ring. Because I don't want anyone to so much as hint at the money coming from some dude. Everytime I hear "I got Money to Blow" by Young Money I remind God that I NEED to be rich someday soon, while I'm young. There is no sexier image in my head than me in Tribeca or some club, sitting at an all girls table, everyone with a champagne glass and bottles just making their way over. All the dudes looking and wondering "ah ah! who are those babes now?" End of the night, I just hand the bartender my Amex from my well manicured hand without even bothering to look at the "damages".

....Then, some young strapping man can wife me and make me a trophy for all eternity. Amen.