Guest-blogged by Adeola Opeyemi Salau
*For sisters alone and a few guys
who dare to peek
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| Opeyemi (right) and her friends. |
So you think your heart is broken? You think you have been
hurt, betrayed and would probably not fall in love again? Oh, please, stop
being a drama queen and grow up! Those whose hearts are truly broken are in the
chilling room of a
morgue.
I know by now you are probably wondering who I am to judge
you.
Yes!
I’ve been there before, I’ve seen Amanda; my roommate of half
a decade university sessions cried most nights, and swore to stay off men for
life. After two years though, her tears no longer meant anything to me. Oh yes,
I did give her a bucket twice or thrice to fill with her tears. I’m not heartless;
I just got tired of hearing her curse the generations of men; dead, living and
the unborn.
Yes, I’ve seen my elder sisters crumble at Mama’s feet to
cry their beautiful eyes to sleep when a man walked out or a cheating husband
refused to change his ways. I’ve endured the advices from single aunts and
other relatives who felt they were experts on relationship issues and their
advices were priceless. I’ve held my younger sister at night while tears of
rejection racked her young body and she asked questions I couldn’t answer. And
yes, I’ve watched Mama quietly gave all to Papa and shifted for another woman
to share her bed.
These are women who have been hurt like you; these are
survivors!
So you think I still don’t know how it feels? Well, hear
this! I’ve emptied my account for a boy I fancied to take another lady out,
I’ve been left stranded on dinner dates, I’ve been cheated on, screamed at,
lied to, I’ve been into unrequited love, I’ve buried a lover who doubled as a
best friend, I’ve watched myself wasted away pinning for a man who was never
coming back. I’ve locked myself up in little public toilets in restaurants and
overcrowded hostels and cried myself to semi-coma. Most times, I’ve had to use
sunshades because my eyes were too heavy to show the world. Like you, I’ve lied
and attributed my swollen eyes to cold or sleepless nights of after-work hours.
I’ve had to abandon my favourite albums of Celein Dion, Aaron Neville, Don Williams
and Dolly Parton’s Yellow Roses because they reminded me of love and someone
that left. I’ve sworn off love, I’ve found myself in the arms of someone who
betrayed me often; I’ve been pushed around one time-too-much!
Like you, I’ve been a fool before. I was once a follower of
the misquote saying – love is blind!
So sister, grab a stool and come let’s talk.
First, wipe those tears and mucus running into your mouth. So
you think your tears will soften him? Breaking news: men don’t like women who
whine. Believe me; he doesn’t want to see you crying like a river all the time,
that’s meant for gnomes in the jungle!
Wipe those tears; it’s the first step to healing.
If he doesn’t want you anymore, please don’t forget you are a
woman, therefore you are priceless. Gather your courage, reapply that smeared
mascara, touch those sexy lips with gloss and move on!
Now, don’t snort at me, I know it hurts, but self confidence
has been recorded by experts as the best sex appeal anyone can possess.
You don’t believe me?
Ask Robert Greene.
And please, please and please, don’t go looking for water to
rinse blood, get a bandage, plaster or a thick clothe to stop the flow. Meaning
– don’t go picking a new man immediately, thinking the attention of the new one
will heal the emotional wound, naaaahhhhh, it wouldn’t! Give the poor battered
heart a break! Relax, take your time and window shop!
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| Opeyemi in her chilling self |
Yes, I mean do a window shopping of the guys-store. Go on
simple dates with lot of guys, meet
the tall and the short, have lunch with the gallant and the chauvinist, hang out
with the model and the bookworm, the politrickcians and the liar, oh, I mean
the lawyers. Meet the doctor with the
knowing hands and the musician with his seductive lyrics. Get a life, you are
not yet dead!
Oh! A tidbit here…
‘Meet’, I say, not ‘Fuck!’
Chill out with friends and family; go to the movies with
them; the dance clubs; the comedy shows; lounge around with girlfriends and
talk about guys and their miserable lives. Yes, talk about their dirty smelly
socks and their disorderliness. Agree with your friends that men can’t do
without being jerks, assholes, whatever.
Give the brothers some credits gals; they just can’t help
being assholes.
What is a hero without the antagonist and the odds of life?
Okay, so maybe you need to cry a lil’ in the corner of your
room; so what? Open the dam and heal your pains but please don’t get used to it.
Smile through your tears, it doesn’t mean you are losing it, you are just
thinking about how funny some teary scenes would look later in the future when
you want to tell the story, and believe me, you will tell the story someday
when it stops aching.
But if most of my suggestions sound like Hollywood/Nollywood
advices, then this wouldn’t – GET A MAKE OVER!!!
Now I don’t want you to start thinking I mean the
dye-your-hair, get-a-manicure kind of makeover. No, sister, Beauty is in the
heart, and so does that expensive feeling we call HAPPINESS. Remember, when you
are the source of your own happiness, nothing and nobody can take it away from
you. Be, your own centre, rule your own life, learn from past drowning
experiences and learn how to swim the world, get a life, a career, get a new
hobby, make friends who don’t need to fuck you or fuck you up. And
pleeeeaaaaasssssseeee, LOVE AGAIN; you are not yet dead!!!
Only those who quit are losers.
I’m neither a shrink nor a preacher; I’m just a lady like
you.
And please, my sister’s friend’s cousin’s brother’s aunt’s
uncle’s son’s dog tore off the ‘F’ part of my dictionary, so I don’t know the
meaning of Feminism, I just know when to stand up and say ‘No!’
*******
