The Anatomy of a Single Girl

When life threw me back into the singles club, the second question I asked myself was, “Under ideal conditions, what kind of man would I like to be with?” The first was “Am I ever really going to date again because it seems I’ve run out of love to give?”

Anyways, I launched my mental PowerPoint and started to make slides on what my ideal man would be like. I made notes on physical looks, his persona, social circle, career and all that. I mean, we are talking un homme très sophistiqué. I can’t even pronounce that but whatever.

After all was thought out, I closed my presentation, stared at my ceiling and started laughing. I was laughing at how ridiculous it was for me to think a man who ticked all those boxes would be attracted to someone as plain as me. I mean, there is nothing particularly interesting or attractive about me. Add that with the fact that I almost never leave my house, reducing my chances to less than 1%.

Look, I’m not trying to claim Ayobo Cinderella or anything. It’s not like I’m waiting around to bump into my prince charming in the aisle of a supermarket or save him from a falling couch. Again, I’d have to actually leave my house for this to happen. And the only place stuffs like these do happen are in cheesy Korean series. I mean, I live in an area that is probably not on the map of Lagos. Lol. Don’t come for me, I’m only stating the truth as it is.

But then, by fate or by will, it is actually possible for me to end up with the crown prince to an Arab throne. Wait…I’m reaching, aren’t I? Fine. Let’s start with a Governor’s son. Seems that’s more realistic. But the issue I have with myself is, why did I put myself down in the first place? Why did I feel like I didn’t deserve to be with a man from a different social and economic class from me? When it comes to love and dating, why have we demonized the super-rich vs average girl narrative? “She’s a gold digger” is all people would probably talk about, right? I get it.  

I remember how back in college, I broke up with my older rich boyfriend for a fellow suffer-head student like me. I had romanticized the idea of “building together.” You know, “we started from the bottom, now we are here”. Isn’t that the supposed Nigerian ideal? We did build together but Oga eventually ejected me from the construction site and replaced me with another. I guess Nollywood was right after all.  

I think I speak for a lot of women when I say we put ourselves in way too many boxes. We don’t say it but we think it. And we may be too proud to even admit it. I know I am. I grew up telling myself I’d do what I can to make a name for myself, rake in my millions and live a chilled life independent of anybody. Set awon “self-made”. For this reason, I’ve been really hard on myself over the years. Considering I’m currently not tied to a defined job and I’m sleeping on my parent’s couch, I’d say that plan is working out just fine. I’m only #999,980 from making my first million. Way to go girl!

With all the individuality and gender emancipation going on out there, a lot of women feel like they have to be strong. Like they need to prove a point by figuring out everything all by themselves or they would fail the almighty goddess of feminism. Lewl. A sense of independence is great but can we all agree that having someone on our team to relieve us of a little work load isn’t so bad either? Imagine being with a man who has his connections and resources at your disposal for your business plans or amazing ideas. Or to be whisked away on his helicopter for lunch in the middle of a work day. That’s like intimo-romatinco. If you think it’s gold-digging, that’s for you and your village people to argue edaakun.

Please o, I’m not trying to diss brothers on my end of the spectrum. We all are legit trying to make a headway in this life and make life better for ourselves and those we love. I respect the hustle. I really do. And I still intend to make my many, many millions. But woh, if I’m being honest with myself, I’d go for both. I’d go to where there is money and date for love. Best of both worlds. So yeah, while I’m still out here working my hustle, I hope to bump into my Arab Prince at a supermarket sometime soon.

What? A girl is not allowed to dream big? Oh please.

Let me know what you think about this. Are you Team Love, Team Money, Team Both or Team None?

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