I’m a single Nigerian girl. Forget the fact that my command of Nigerian pidgin is shaky at best and I couldn’t find my way to my village to save my life; all that is by the way. I think… English is the only language I’m fluent in; it what we speak at home and what I speak with my friends. That doesn’t make me any less Nigerian; I love my country. It helps that it’s the only country I know.
As for being single, hmmm. that aspect is purely my fault o. Sure, I know lotsa guys with at least some of the traits I seek, but the thing is, I refuse to “manage” any of them. No way. As a girlfriend of mine recently said, “I’m waiting for my Mr. Right o, no one else will do.” I agree and will hold on for that one dude who can crack my code (no innuendo intended), who will understand me and all my weird (cute) ways.
And so I find myself single, not necessarily looking to mingle, but not left with much of a choice either. Sure, there are always guys hanging around, they have a sixth sense for unattached females and girls in stable relationships. Frankly, I find their attempts to impress highly entertaining. Choosing not to grant any of their more incriminating requests is the definition of being single.
The life of a singleton is similar to being let loose in a crowded, rowdy market. Schlepping from shop to shop looking for the perfect outfit. So many great possibilities, but always with one unforgivable shortcoming or other. I have never been a girly girl. This, coupled with the panic of a fast-approaching unwanted birthday, make for a very long, tiring shopping experience for me.
Good thing I don’t wear heels, then.