Tosan.

Death.

Death.

The finality of death.

It hurts like hell, Tosan...It hurts to talk about you in past tense. If tears could bring you back, you'd be here right now showing off one of your designs...I would be critiquing right now and you'd be telling me how you didn't get much sleep.

I remember the first day we met. Sy's birthday party. The definition of a gentleman. I never heard you raise your voice, man. That smile was always on your face...even when you were mad. The day you explained why you preferred to be called "Tosan" instead of "Tosin". I remember laughing so hard.

Talent.

Taught me everything I know about graphic design...enough to get me out of scrapes. I remember how you gushed about my work and told me I could get good at it.

Damn.

The days when I'd walk into the boardroom at the office and you would be there 'coz you worked overnight on some design or the other...How we both had those "Don't disturb" SIM Cards and would cover for each other...How you'd say "Calm down" when I was having one of my moments.

Memories.

Dead. DEAD.

Final.

Rest in Peace, my dear friend, brother, colleague...you were one of a kind.

Rest in Peace.

Mr Not Exactly Right

I hate hook ups. Absolutely hate them. Not just because they hardly ever work for me but more because it takes away the excitement of...of what though? I don't know right now but I know I somehow, always have to find a way to shut it down.

See, half the time, folks are trying to set me up with men they think will be "good for me"...really...I won't be mad If y'all are setting me up with the kind of men y'all have seen me with na. Is that too much to ask?

In the last 4 months, 3 people have tried to set me up with someone "fabulous" and trust me, this thing isn't funny.

1. A 40 something year old man who after the first few messages starts to compare me with "Nkem" whom he should have married but was "too blind" to see her worth at the time. Sigh. The things I see. Need I mention that he has "zilchero" sense of humour.

2. Heelarious 40 something year old who about 20 minutes into our first phone conversation asked me what kinda underwear I like and If I shaved clean or...I didn't wait for the rest of the question.

3. Turned out this very hot 30 something year old has a glistening 4th finger band and was just tryna "score". He's lucky we never met.

The crap singletons have to go through. Like being single is now a crime punishable by horrible match making!
Seriously, why can't folks just leave me?  I mean, If they are going to find me a man, can you at least get it right? WTH? Mscheeew.