The Ties That Unbind

To have and to hold from this day forward,
for better, for worse,
for richer, for poorer,
in sickness and in health,
to love and to cherish,
until we are parted by death.

Famous last words, i say........ Famous last words.

A little over six years ago, a friend from my boarding school days got married to his sweetheart, they had known each other for years. As fate would have it they fell in love and decided to spend the rest of their lives together. I admit, i can be a little cynical on the odd occasion, but i truly was hopeful that i was observing the real thing. The wedding was for all intents and purposes a great spectacle. The flower arrangements were perfect, the catering was excellent and the overworked wedding planner truly earned her wages whilst attempting to cater to the whims and caprices of all the big men and women in attendance. They were a truly beautiful couple, he in a black suit, she in a white dress standing in a gazebo on the grounds of one of the nicest hotels i had ever seen. It truly was a sight to behold.

He gave a stirring speech about love, his hopes for the future and his gratitude to the fates for crossing his path with hers. He closed his speech with an emotional recitation of Juke Box Love Song by Langston Hughes, she appeared to wipe a tear from her left eye (considering the fact that she spent a great deal of time having her makeup done that morning, i feel that particular action was performed for dramatic effect. She smiled and hugged her husband deeply. She took the microphone, gave her speech, thanked her parents for raising her and sacrificing a great deal for her (families sure know how to put up a good act in such circumstances). She spoke of how herself and her new husband met at a dance in Sussex(in reality they knew one another in Nigeria prior to moving abroad, and were initially sworn enemies). She ended her work of fiction by reciting A Magic Moment I Remember by Alexander Pushkin.

Think about it, He recited Hughes she read Pushkin, Harlem Renaissance mixed with Romanticism, Moscow on The Hudson, like the cold war never existed. I should have read the omens and realised that their union was doomed, but i remained hopeful. Against this backdrop of hope, hope for a new beginning for them, hope for the future and hope that maybe one day we will all experience true love; we ushered them into matrimony.

The Seven Year Itch (or six in their case)

Fast forward six years, The phone rings. I pick it up.

“Boorish?” the voice says. “It's ......"

"Can we talk"?
"Definitely"
"Boorish, he cant measure up".
"How so?"
"I go out and i meet men that i have more in common with"
"You know i think you are a coquette"
"And?"
"Well maybe you should flirt less".
"Why wouldn't I"?
"He doesn't make an effort with his appearance?"
"I resent the fact that I have to support him financially".
"I was raised with money, and i am used to a certain standard of life".
"I think i am going to leave him".

Unfortunately, she made good her threat and moved on with her life, he is embittered by the whole experience and is quick to tell the world about this evil, materialistic bitch that left him high and dry, with out a pot to piss in. It is easy to vilify the woman in such circumstances, but the truth is that we all have a vision for ourselves and i am sure that if thinfgs were better for him financially and otherwise, she would have been a good wife to him. If his career has carried on its initial trajectory, chances are she would not have left him. If she didn't have to dig into her pockets to keep the home, she might not have been quite so frustrated, and if he hadn't resorted to comfort eating he would not look quite so bovine and maybe they would have some semblance of a sex life.

We all have standards, hopes and aspirations. Maybe we will achieve them and maybe we wont. The truth is that we all have one life to live, and i can see how if she didn't make the jump she would have ended up frustrated and resentful. i am not condoning her actions, i am simply experienced enough to understand where she is coming from. Love comes with conditions, they had a deal, he promised to take care of her, and unfortunately it did not work out that way. I do not see why any man should take a woman out of the relative comfort of her fathers home and make her suffer with you. She might enjoy the thought of struggling with her man, but the reality of it will most probably overwhelm her.

Her situation is a mixture of a number of factors, the seven year itch, her in inherrent narcissism, a downturn in his fortunes and her inability to compromise. As far as i am concerned, she does not deserve to be vilified, that is the person that she is, and he was well aware of it before he married her. He was on a strict time frame and unfortunately she chose to withdraw her favours.

She would have been a good wife in different circumstances, I guess she was not in an enabling environment......

What do you think?

Do What Thou Wilt.

On Self-Knowledge

Your hearts know in silence the secrets of the days and the nights.
But your ears thirst for the sound of your heart's knowledge.
You would know in words that which you have always known in thought.
You would touch with your fingers the naked body of your dreams.
Kahlil Gibran



I am a firm believer in leaving people to chose their path, would there have been a Michael Jackson if his folks had forced him to become a proctologist? How would Shakespere have fared tilling the fields of Stratford upon avon? Not very well I think, it is a waste of time attempting to turn Rudulf Nureyev into Ato Boldon, so hands off and let the youth be. For a long time I repeated this mantra, however; a recent experience made my belief somewhat shaky.


“Boorish please you have to counsel your young cousin, he has gone mad”
“What is the problem this time”
“He will not kill me o”
“Aunty I sincerely hope he doesn’t kill you” said Boorish trying hard to disguise his irritation”.
“Boorish, my son wants to become a drug addicted, womanizing singer”.
“Nothing wrong with that, in so far as it is his true calling”.
“But he cannot sing”.
“Ok aunty, I will speak to him”.

I initially thought nothing of the exchange between my aunt and myself, after all maybe she mistook his rapping for singing, or maybe he is an instrumentalist. I put a call through to him and made an appointment for us to meet for drinks at my local speakeasy. The day came, I arrived early, ordered myself a bit to eat a draught lager and a double calvados to chase it. No sooner had I settled down to eat did I hear a rather high pitched voice squeal “there you are uncle Boorish, as handsome as ever”. I do not relish being called uncle, sir, egbon, oga or any thing such thing. I turned around and much to my surprise, there stood my young cousin, looking somewhat different.

I remembered my cousin as your typical rough and tumble teen, with a whole load of mischief in him. It was rather disconcerting reconciling the creature before me. My cousin had morphed into a rather effete young man wearing skinny jeans, pointed boots, a cravat, braided hair, a Turkish chain and a pair of thumb rings. I am not one to judge; after all I was a dread at some point. I asked him to sit down and asked him what he wanted to drink.

“I’ll have a cosmo”
“A what?”
“A cosmopolitan uncle”
“Call me boorish”.
“Ok Boorish, a cosmo is a cool cocktail”.
“Look kid I was once heavy in the dating game, I know what the hell a cosmo is”.
“So there is no problem”.
“I hear you are into music now”
“Yes I am” He said as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a packet of More cigarettes.
“You smoke Mores”
“I love the way they are so slender and easy to smoke”.
“What do I care how you like your eggs fried”.
“Exactly”.
“What genre of music are you into?”
“I am into gospel music, have a listen."

He handed me his ear phones, I popped them into my ears as I noticed that his I-pod was pimped out with Swarovski crystals. I listened to three tracks and gave him my verdict.


“I am not convinced that you have a future in music”
“What do you mean”
“Gospel Makossa?”
“It is innovative”.
“I can see the innovation, but can you truly justify telling people to scatter nyansh for Jesus”?
“Do you think I should have told them to, galala instead”?

I looked at his face, and the poor boy was close to tears, I wondered if I would be right to crush his dream, and break his spirit. I was between a rock and a very hard place. I looked into his eyes and beyond the mascara and eye liner laid passion. Passion for life and for gospel makossa. The foolish passion that comes with youth, the foolish passion tells you that anything is possible. The passion that great men fight to keep all their lives. The passion that causes men to try and keep trying till they achieve their dreams. I looked into his eyes and I understood.


“Scatter nyansh for Jesus is just fine my friend”.


We drank, we ate, and I saw that the young chap was simply being himself, he has only one life to live and who am I to tell him who to be, how to think and how best to live his life. Maybe gospel makossa will one day compel young people around the world to drop down and get their eagle on. Maybe it will be the greatest flop in history. It is all in the hands of the Gods, but at least the young man gave it a shot.
Meeting him again brought it home that the future is ours to dare to invent.


If you have a dream, don’t let it die, if your heart tells you something, listen to it. Risk it all and be; be the person that you know know yourself to be and turn your back to those that say you can’t.


And to all the parents out there:

The poem below was written by Kahlil Gibran a man i consider one of Gods gifts to mankind. He was the artist that painted the work of art above.



On Children

Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children
as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,
and He bends you with His might
that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let our bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
so He loves also the bow that is stable.


Kahlil Gibran

Au Naturel

"Boorish call my cousin", said my fried.
"I think you two will get along"
OK, I'll call, give me her number".


Call I did, and the initial conversation lasted for hours, in the following week, our conversations got deeper, friendlier, more frivolous at times and laced with a fair amount of innuendo. On a Thursday, we agreed to have the our first shag session over the weekend. As we were both rather young (she was 23 and I was 21)we had THAT conversation.


"Boxers or briefs boorish"? She asked brimming with anticipation.

"Either boxers, tighty whiteys or I just let it all hang".

"Thongs or french knickers?" Asked Boorish as he wished under his breath that she would NOT say thongs.

"I wear big, cotton, granny panties."

"You are so funny" said Boorish, appreciating her sense of humour.

"What about grooming?" Boorish asked

""How so"

"Do you have a little Mohawk down there"? "Maybe a little runway?" "Or do you go for the bald eagle look?"

"I like it Au naturel" She said.

I hoped to god that she wasn't serious, and with a strange mix of anticipation and trepidation, I awaited the weekend.

The weekend came and i finally got to see her, she was attractive enough and appeared to take good care of herself. I hugged her and took a sneaky pick at her ears.

No ear wax, clean nails and her braids aren't stinky". Boorish thought as he let her into his student flat.

Boorish wasn't one to waste much time, after all she was there for a weekend long shag session; so they got to it. I could smell a trace of her shower gel, her perfume was fruity and rather delicious, her lips were soft and her touch was absolutely mind blowing. We has a twenty minute foreplay session and we dry humped each other a fair bit. The clothes were off and we were down to our underwear, I took a look and realised that she told me the truth about the granny underwear.


"Bloody hell, those panties look almost as old as I am".


I kissed her lightly from her neck down to her belly button and could not help but notice a strange bulge in her crotch.

"Looks like something isn't quite right"

I grabbed the thick elastic strings of her cheap cotton, moth eaten Mickey Mouse panties and pulled them down.

"Kai, haba, damn, shit".


I screamed as something that looked like a cross between a rat and a grizzly bear sprung forth from her underwear.

The creature jumped out at me with the eagerness of a runaway slave


Her bush was was the size of Angela Davis's Afro.

"What the hell is this?"

"I told you, I like it Au naturel".

I found out that she had never trimmed her bush in all her years on earth. It was a horrid sight and it spread every where, down her thighs, up her stomach, it looked like a huge hairy oil slick.

"This is not good enough".

"But I might get shaving bumps".

"Since you never did attempt to shave or trim, you don't know that for sure".

"You hate me, you find me disgusting, you are so mean."


I wondered if she expected me to feel sorry for her, so i left her to her own devices and went of to sleep on the couch.

She left the next morning and still speaks of how mean I was to her.

Au naturel? Now that takes the piss.

Matrimony? Maybe

Another day, another wedding.





Another victory parade for the bride.

Another groom sacrificing his liberty.

Another man submitting to the whims and caprices of an in-house dictator.

Another woman morphs into a bedroom terrorist.


Maybe I eventually will get married, maybe I'll do Vegas. Maybe it will be your typical stylised Nigerian wedding, where at the reception the dashing groom(at least in my case) dances in with the bride. The bride in her excitement at finally having her victory parade, throws all convention to the wind and proves that the stereotype of the demure bride is nothing but bullshit. She then proceeds shake her girdle supported ass whilst pretending to dance the "YAHOOZEE", but in reality she is holding her diamond ring (in reality it is a cubic zirconia, but what the hell. It looks good)up in the air in order to spite all the single women in the crowd.

"YOU CAN HATE ME BITCHES"

"BUT I HAVE A SLAVE NOW"

"I WILL CONDEMN HIS ASS TO A LIFE OF SERVITUDE"

"I WILL SEE TO IT THAT HE WORKS HIMSELF TO THE BONE TO SUPPORT ME AND MY (not his) CHILDREN".


Don't get me wrong, I have nothing against marriage, and even the brides are not quite as monstrous as I paint them. The only issue for me is that most women don't wish to be married, all they wish for is a wedding. They want to wear the white dress (even though they ought to wear any colour other than white), and partake in the pathetic, spectacle that they have reduced the marriage ceremony to.

I remember a conversation I had once.


"My friend is so lucky"

"How so?" i asked, attempting to feign interest.

"She met her husband six months ago, at a wedding reception, and he said to himself that the next good looking girl that walks through the door will be my wife. And then my friend walks in".

"What if they are not compatible?"

"Who cares?"

"Pardon me?"

"Look Boorish, it is every woman's dream to me married, and have her big day".


Her friend, did in fact have her big day, so big and tasteless it was that there were belly dancers at the reception, and famous comic rehashing some old lines. All the supposed society people were there and they all had a big ball. Unfortunately the break up of the marriage was so dramatic (more like apocalyptic)that was more talked about than their carnival of a marriage.


Happy ever afters? we'll see.


Matrimony? Maybe.

Let's Go Together

Hey, what is in a one night stand?

Much ado about nothing I say.


CIRCA 2006 DECEMBER:

"Boorish I saw you leave the party with my fiancee's friend"

"I have to stop my future wife freom associating with her"

"Put yourself underfoot my dear fiend" Said boorish as he lit up his last cigarette for the night.

"There is nothing wrong with what happened, you ought to respect her for her lack of hipocrisy".

That night, the drums were beating, copious amounts of alcohol were consumed and the passions were flowing.

We shared a few innuendo ladden conversations, flirted, laughed, smiled, danced and knew that all things being equal, we would end the night with a bit of passion. Two consenting adults deciding to sleep with one another. What could be more beautiful than that?

Alas, we are hypocritical in our views of these sorts of things. Why is it that men view all women as cheap (except the women that we chose to marry)?

I wonder wht we compell our women to lie to us about their pecaddilloes and experiences, and then we end up spitting fire and brimstone when we find our wives playing a rusty trombone on Ishiaku the maiguard.

Think my friend, it is no big deal, I'd much rather deal with a woman that makes her intentions known from the start, as opposed to playing the sweet innocent wifey.......................


so if it feels right, lets go together.


Will be back properly soon.

Something for the fellas

Hey there, how are we doing? It sure has been a while. As usual I've been keeping busy, and trying to seek clarity in this cold harsh world of ours. I try to love all of Gods creations, but I must warn you all to keep far away from the creature that threatens civilisation as we know it this evil being is known as

THE BITTER WOMAN.....

OK sweetheart, I understand that it could not have been easy growing up being so ugly in a world where beauty is so coveted. Take heart, just because your pockmarked face looks like someone danced the Charleston on it, whilst wearing a pair of golf cleats doesn't mean you have to share the pain. I know it isn't easy being ugly, you cannot help the fact that you look like a cross between sasquatch , Star Jones and Amy Winehouse on a bad hair day. does not mean that you have to be at odds with all that is fair and beautiful in this world. I am sure that underneath that unfortunate exterior lies a good heart.........

Let the bitterness go.

So what if you are unlucky in love, you wonder why you cant keep a man, you ask yourself why your friends are all married and you are stuck dealing with men that screw you, and can't wait to be far away from you not too long after the act.

According to you:

"Men are bastards"

"I don't need a man, my vibrator never fails"

"Life must be easier being gay"



Have you stopped for a minute to wonder if the problem might not be the guys? If you have failed in all attempts at relationships, do you not think that there is something wrong with you?

OK babe, when one really thinks about it, considering the standard of men today, maybe your vibrator would work best.





Don't be offended ladies, I was just kidding.........

Hey fellas, I have to ask you something. What is your obsession with thongs. I do not find them sexy at all. What is so mind blowing about the sight of that strip of gabardine (maybe even denim, khaki or nylon) riding up the crack of her shitter? When I see a thong I think wobbly squidgy butt cheeks, cellulite infested, stretch marked skin. I think skid marks, dangleberries or even worse dingleberries.

Think about it fellas........

It aint pretty.


Just some mindless rambling.................


Will be back properly soon.

Sex and The Single Bloke (On Doublethink)

"Doublethink means the power of holding two contradictory beliefs in one's mind simultaneously, and accepting both of them". - George Orwell.

The devil himself Niccolo Machiavelli once postulated that one should never enter an aliance with another more powerful than ones self. Very deep words i must say, whilst he was speaking of realpolitik I have put a spin on things and have chosen to speak of relationships (what else is new ;-).

Imagine being in a relationship with a person so much smarter than yourself, a person that read you easily from day one. A person that immediately recognised your needs, influences and biases; and then manipulated them to his or her benefit. Human beings are impressionable and deeply insecure. It is the simplest thing to influence another to hang on your every word and throw aside all logic and common sense inspite of the truth that is staring them in their face.

She loves him and would do all in her power to keep him, he is well aware of this and knows that he is all that she lives for, rather than be inspired by her devotion he becomes complacent and seeks out more exciting possibillities. He cheats openly and constantly, he plays on her emotions, makes her cry at will, does subtle things to make her jealous, keeps her mind occupied, hurts her intentionally and when she is on the verge of finally asserting herself he overwhelms her with kindness, romance and a few furious shagging sessions. Control and manipulation are the tools of is trade. She is aware that he is wrong for her, but still believes that he is her knight in shining armour. Why is this happening? She is doublethinking...............

Some might say that he is being smart, others might call him a bastard, but i contend that such people should be pitied. The way a person treats another is a reflection of the battles raging within them; ergo it is a deep insecurity that drives such a person to try to exert such control over another, and likewise insecurity makes another so impressionable as to be controlled. I have been in situations where i have been guilty of double think (i guess we all have), I too have fallen victim to manipulative women (albeit not for very long...) I have been guilty of manipulating others as well. I am truly happy that I no longer do such, however i have become rather guarded as a result of what i have done and what i have observed.

Ignorance is Bliss

I have become very observant and somewhat suspicious of ther peoples motives, due to my rather calculating nature I analyse every possible outcome before I make any move, it has it's good (i am not usually prone to being manipulated into doublethinking), ergo I prevent myself from ever truly riding the crest of a wave and letting myself go.................

Therein lies the rub.

Is anyone ever truly on your side? Or are they merely being self serving? Is it better to be a fool in love or a wise person that's lonely? She loves me, but what are her motives? Can this be love?

Maybe my efforts at not being weak or vulnerable might cost me a great deal of happiness in my life. Maybe we all need to be foolish to be in love and happy.........................

Maybe I am just as guilty of doublethink as others.





Hope your holiday was as great as mine...........

I have entered a new chapter in my life, I have come full circle and I'm back to being the gregarious boorish that is loved by many. will have to tell you about this soon.

Infinite Possibillities.

I remember the night it dawned on me.........

It was the night before I moved back to Nigeria, my friends and I went out for a few drinks and reminisced on the last twelve years. Over the years, there were a lot of firsts and experiences, we changed from being Lagos boys in the UK to being English boys with Nigerian roots. It dawned on me that I had done everything that I dreamed of as a young boy (except one thing). I came to the sad realisation that nothing was fresh, nothing was new, nothing was exciting and the joy of life was lacking was lacking.

Due to my over indulgence, women lost their mystique, the parties and the carousing lost their appeal. I slowly withdrew into myself (to a great extent I still have), and spent hours analysing myself and trying to find a new avenue to the freedom to revel in the "joie de vivre". I pondered, I worried and I longed for what I had lost, then suddenly I realised that life is in stages, I experienced what a lot of men are only just being exposed to. I feel like the Pedlar of Swaffham, my destiny is right here before me, I look forward to realising it.

There always will be infinite possibillities in life, I have rediscovered the "joie de vivre. I am totally comfortable in my own skin, no airs, no graces, no insecurities.

Damn!!!!!! It is good to be me

I am where I am, to get where I should be.

And so are you.

Sex and The Single Bloke Part 16 (The Hierarchy of Race)

LADIES........

Like it or lump it, the truth is that there exists a hierarchy amongst the races of this world. We are all aware of the economic benefits of being of a certain race, however in relationships such a hierarchy exists. Whist at university, the majority of the Nigerian women would bend over backwards to have a european on their arm, they would spend hours comparing notes on what their experiences were and would make plans on how to add more to their lists. They would debase, degrade, and display a level of desperation that shocked even me (and this is me, that has been exposed to a fair amount of strange human behaviour).

I was in the refectory once, and a Nigerian girl rushed in, hurried over to her friends and said:

"GIRLS LETS MOVE, THE GREEK GUYS ARE AT THE PEN & WIG PUB"!!!

The girls rushed into the loo, put their faces on and were seen at the pub chasing after these men, and leaving with groups of them at the end of the evening. Hey! i am all for freedom and expressing ones self as one pleases, but these same girls began treating the Nigerian guys with disdain.

The next day my Greek friend said to me:

"I WILL NEVER F**K A NIGERIAN GIRL AGAIN,

THEY HAVE BIG GAPING P****Y".

I remember seeing a video of three Nigerian girls getting gang banged by a room full of onyibo boys, yet these girls would front and make any Nigerian guy that approached them sweat and prove himself to her before even listening to him.

Case 2:

Whist at boarding school there was a girl, with an extermely large posterior. Man, that girl had booty like I had never seen! She was the German boys party favour (she shagged them all)and made no bones about it. She didn't have a problem with them smacking her on the butt in full view of everyone, she was proud to have them treat her in that was. However when a Nigerian guy that happened to like her a lot attempted to hold her hand, she cussed him out. Much to the amusement of her German boys (they were nice guys and were constantly telling us about how much of a freak that she was.). Once we were in a club and one of the German lads pulled her over to us in disgust and told her off for being racist. Why? Simply because she told him that she would never touch a black man. He washed her down, stormed off and this woman had the audacity to look at us from head to toe, hiss, and stroll off to beg her man for forgiveness.

I would love to get a Nigerian woman's view on this matter, in my view there is only one race and that is the human race, I believe that we all should respect and one another as EQUALS, the hierarchy exists only in our minds, be free and just live.

The partner you are with is not a crutch (pardon the pun) or a status symbol.....................

Just a person.

My Succubus

In my chamber she was welcome as she had been before
Her form was enchanting, like the creature of ancient lore
Her touch emboldeth me, to my depth, to my core
Alas, she departed, she is my Succubus, no more.

Sex and The Single Bloke part 15 (The Paradox of Humillity)

Is humility a virtue or a vice? I often wonder, is it in human nature to be humble or does circumstance conspire to humble us. Jesus was humble, the Prophet Mohamed was humble and boorish is humble.........................................

Can Boorish truly be humble if he places himself in such exalted company? My point exactly! This so called character trait is nothing but a paradox. I shall speak of this in the context of relationships.

Case in Point:

Boy grows up in ghetto, and has struggled from day one. He meets a girl and who has lived in the lap of luxury all her life. They fall in love and decide to get married, girl's father refuses to give his blessing to the union and holds it up for four years. He eventually relents and reluctantly allows the poor man to marry his daughter. Dude is introduced to a life of luxury, and quickly becomes accustomed to it. His father-in law never misses an opportunity to put him back in his place and he is often on the receiving end of barbs and jibes from his wife's side of the family. In their presence he displays nothing but utter humility and is grateful to his condescending father in law for changing his life.

Boy meets Boorish and regales him with tales of his good life, his car, his flat and how well he has done. Unbeknown to him; boorish has a huge network of friends and is aware the man's true. Should my friend the kept man not be humbled by his beginnings and his pitiable current situation? For some reason best known to him, the mere fact that he is slipping it to a rich man's daughter has given him the right to be arrogant. Sex must be an overwhelmingly powerful force; because it has made boy believe that he is ''rich by association" (or maybe I should say ''Rich by Copulation''). This guy might one day find himself ''humbled'' by Boorish's sharp tongue if he doesn't ''humble'' quit playing the big man.

Case 2:

I once was involved with a woman or should I say girl at university, we were broke students and she was even broker than I was. We were very different, I was this kid that left Nigeria and was transported to a British boarding school and from there set out to university, and she was transferred to the UK after five or six years at university in Nigeria only to start again from her first year. We were happy or so I thought, the boor was totally unaware that his girl was a social climber and judged him based on his broke student status.

Boorish a far far from perfect boyfriend, but they always worked their problems out or so he thought. She eventually graduated and moved elsewhere to study for her post graduate degree. Whilst at this new place she made friends with a few public school girls whose fathers were very wealthy (Nigerian military men in the corridors of power) and they made a show of their wealth. They never got involved with black men (I see nothing wrong with that if it floats their boat), and would do anything in their power to get a check from the onyibo dudes (to be honest their behaviour was quite embarrassing).

She conviently forgot that her friends orientation was not too different from mine, however, due to the fact that I didn't make a show of things, she felt that she was ''better by association''. She developed a deep desire for oyinbo public school boys, and my spies told me that she was spotted trying hard to get off with a few.

''So be it''! I thought and didn't tell her a thing.

We eventually broke up and she tried repeatedly to get back with me. I bluntly refused her overtures. Now lets analyse this; I would not humble myself and take her back. This was in spite of the fact that she made me happy, and her lack of humility caused her to lose her man (she still calls me till date). Is it a virtue of a vice? Is it a natural state of mind, or a by product of circumstance? Is it good or bad for relationships?

Women like a guy with a bit of arrogance and swagger, but in a relationship that pride might prevent him from opening up to her fully. Most men like a woman with a little front, and would dump on a woman that is somewhat self effacing.

Humility............. A paradox indeed.

All this blogging has left me hungry, I'm on my way to go eat some humble pie. I wrote this last night, about someone that was once special to me, do remind me to blog about her soon.

Sex and the Single Bloke Part 14 (The Diary of a Nigerian Dandy)

Hello boys and girls, my name is L and I am a dandy. A great deal of effort goes into what you see, I work out religiously, I go for bi-weekly facials and I am always impeccably dressed. Everyone in Lagos knows me, I am a man around town, good looking, witty, charming and most importantly a humdinger in the sack. I am great with the ladies, very good looking and can charm the pants off any woman and her mother if need be. I am single and ever ready to mingle. I am in the prime of my life and presently seeking a great woman to spend the rest of my life with.

Ok truth be told; I am not successful; I have had to tighten my belt, scrimp, save and sell a considerable part of my inheritance to give off the illusion of wealth and success. My rent is due, I can barely afford the payments on my convertible Mercedes, however when the weekend comes appearances must be kept. The champagne will flow and I will regale my supplicants with tales of fictitious multi-million Naira deals that I am presently working on. My present girlfriend will do for the time being, but the main issue I have with her is that her father is not as wealthy as I would like; plus the old bastard is a shameless skinflint. I know that he might not be willing to buy us that home in old Ikoyi, plus he has two sons, so I guess that puts paid to my hopes of him putting me on the board of one or more of his companies. This girl doesn’t quite make the grade, due to the fact that the value added to my life is not be sufficient.

I am presently on the look out for a girl with a fabulously wealthy father, dear God please don’t let it come too late. I am already 33 and my waist is getting wider, goddamn that Boorishmale I wonder how that man still looks 25 even though he will soon be 31. My looks are fading, my Mercedes hasn’t been serviced in a long time and the various club owners in Lagos are bugging me to pay for all that Cristal I bought on credit.

When I find that rich girl, I will progressively make her dependent on me, I will make her insecure and slowly erode her confidence with my well timed put downs and eventually she will feel that no other man will have her. On my wedding day I shall dance and celebrate, my crew of “friends” will join me on the dance floor and we will shake our ashy, flabby, hairy, wrinkled and blistering asses (volcanic hemorrhoids coupled with genital warts are a bitch) whilst doing the electric slide. I will be sure to wear a Cheshire cat grin as the wedding gifts are announced.


What can I say? Now that will be a “value added” relationship.


WHO SAYS GUYS AREN’T GOLD DIGGERS TOO?


What has happened to our society? The Nigeria I left is not the Nigeria I met. What happened to us? We are on the path to destruction; we have become so obsessed with wealth, status and propagating a poor imitation of a foreign class system that cannot translate to this society. The knock on effect of all this is that we are damaging the institutions that MUST be respected. What does marriage mean to us? How could we forget that marriage is the very foundation upon which any good society is built? What will become of us if we all follow this path? Why can’t we realize that we owe it not just to ourselves, but to society at large to love and respect one another? Imagine what will become of the next generation if we don’t make a change, I foresee a future of dysfunctional families and young boys and girls growing up without proper role models. I am a man, a true man and I am aware of my responsibilities and the greatest of them will be to lay a good example to my kids and all the other children in my sphere of influence. I wish to get married for the right reasons, and it dumbfounds me that so many people cannot see the damage that is being done.

Why we see that we are destroying ourselves, we are damaging our women and our women are wrecking us, so if you are a gold digging dandy, you must realize that your actions have very far reaching effects. Maybe I am just a silly idealist but my heart truly bleeds. A change must be made.

We must dare to invent the Future.

Sex and The Single Bloke Part 13 (On Mercenary Mistresses.)

On Saturday night I received a phone call from one of my good female friends and it went this way:

''Boorish what is going on?''

''I'm at home watching Pan's Labyrinth''

''Why are you at home?'' She asked. ''Shouldn't you be out in town?''

''Can't be arsed''

''Look Boorish, I hope you realise that you are very eligible and there would be so many girls out there that would love to be with a man like you.''

''Gaddemit woman, worrahell did you just call me?''

''Boorish calm down i didn't insult you''

''Kindly repeat what you just said to me''

''I called you eligible''

''Eligible?'' I asked. ''Eligible for what''

''Oh, come on Boorish don't play dumb.''

''To what do I owe the honour of this new found status."

My friend gave me a good number of reasons, but not one of them was to do with character. So what is this eligibility? Does it simply afford you the opportunity of mating with more mercenary mistresses? I am definitely not a social butterfly, I have a huge network of friends, but the last thing I want is to be a man around town, so I guess my new found eligibility will not garner me any further social points.

A recurring theme in my conversations with women is the issue of potential. I have heared it time and time again:

''I cannot marry a man who does not have the potential to be rich''.

I marvel at the arrogance of these women, they set so many standards and requirements for the man, but can they really judge the level of a man's potential? Fortune is capricious and she may smile on the most unlikely of pretenders. Can these women truly be sure that the image put forth by these men with potential might just be a charade? I could easily lie to a woman and spend large amounts of money on her and give off the illusion of wealth, and she would not be in a position to know better. All she would be taken with is the ''potential'' that is before her.

So if these women are so quick to put these conditions on their affection, I wonder why the hell they are still single. I had the misfortune of interacting with a rather crude and bush unmarried 35 year old. All she was talking about was what the man must have, the sort of family he must come from and how long his dough must be.

I don't mean to be nasty, but that chick has totally missed the boat, she mentioned family, but she had no living parents and came from a rather poor background (which generally doesn't matter, but it seemed to matter to her a great deal). She lacked sophistication, but still aspired to marry above her station, so much so that she turned down all offers from those she judges as unworthy, and is still single today.

Eligible? Worthy? I don't care about these labels....................

Simply judge me on my character.

Sex and the Single Bloke part 12

LADIES!!!!!!!!!


What ever happened to the doctrine of a good top and tail splash (or as my Yoruba brethren call it............ TAMBA)?

What has gone wrong? Why have we neglected this all important bit of knowledge that has been passed down to us by the ancients?

A good tamba never fails...........

Don't be found wanting...........

CASE IN POINT: Whilst at university, I dedicated an inordinate amount of time towards getting close to this really gorgeous Indian chick. I tried hard to win her over but my efforts were rebuffed and she wouldn't put out, being a horny young man of nineteen, I gave up and started seeing another girl.

About a week after i gave up on her, I was in a club drinking champagne.........
OK, truth be told, It was eighties night at the student union, I was dancing to Ghostbusters whilst sipping on my 80p pint of watered down Fosters Lager (how I loved the Amber Nectar) and Miss India walks up to me quite tipsy (in fact she was totally rat arsed).

One thing led to another and i was at her apartment kissing and grinding on her. I felt I was in heaven, here I was finally about to sleep with the object of my desire. I pulled off her top and kissed her nipples, she took mine off and did the same to me. I yelped, cooed, shrieked, sobbed and spanked her for being naughty.

She proceeded to un-button her jeans, took them off and laid down and begged me to lay the pipe.

I did not need another invitation, I paused for a moment and gazed at her sweet smooth skin whilst she writhed in her sparking white thong, I grabbed her thong and slowly pulled it off, as it came off, I observed that she was clean shaven, but for a little runway of hair. OK people, truth be told, it was more like a brown a Mohawk.

Much to my curiosity I made the observation that the hair seemed not to end, it extended much further than normal.

I rubbed my eyes and looked closer....................

I recoiled in terror and let out a shriek not unlike that made by a wounded animal. I cursed my luck and nearly shed tears. I still remain traumatised by the fact that the long hair i thought i saw in her little booty was actually a thin trail of poo........ What followed was that i ran to the shower, recoiled into a foetal position and attempted to wipe the tears from my eyes. Unfortunately as my hands were within sniffing distance, i realised that she had unfortunately branded me with her scent... (day old curry)!!!!!!!!



I have composed a little poem to commemorate this post:

AN ODE TO TAMBA

It feels so good when I go to the loo.

Go to the loo, sit down and poo.

From the toilet to the shower the stage is set.

To crouch down low and get my bum bum wet.

Dance, dance to the beat of the samba.

And celebrate the virtues of the tamba.

Sex and the Single Bloke part 11. The Illusion of beauty.

''Boorish when will you get married?''

''Boorish your boys are all married with kids''

''Boorish stop playing around and settle down''

Boorish have you gotten a girlfriend yet?''

I hear this shit all the time, so much so that when I see my parents and some old friends I know exactly what is coming.

Why am I not married?

None of your bloody business you nosey so and so.

Why am I not settled?

What makes you think that I am not settled?

Is marriage the single way of judging a man's state?

Are you happy in your marriage?

SPARE ME THE BULL CRAP.

Case in point: My friend has been married for a couple of years, every time we meet up for drinks, the poor blighter never wants to go home.

''That woman is driving me crazy''

''That woman is so fat''

''Yesterday I got home and she was wearing a pair of ratty tracky bottoms and was smelling of egusi''

''Oh! Man! I haven't had good sex in a year, she repulses me, I hate her''.

''I should divorce her''.

''How can I divorce a woman that has given me such a beautiful child''.

''Boorish, she bores me''.

''She is not the woman I married, she has turned into a monster''.

''Boorish have a child, but don't keep a woman in your house''.

I hear the poor bugger come out with all these complaints daily, to be perfectly honest his wife is a babe, but he was caught up in how gorgeous she was and give little thought to how compatible they were. As far as I am concerned the illusion of beauty can be the one of biggest sources of disappointment in life.



Imagine getting married to this absolutely gorgeous person, on the surface this person has everything you ever dreamed of, you date for a year, spend a lot of time together and eventually get married. A month into marriage you notice that your spouse has the habit of recycling her flaky, crusty and skid marked underwear because she is too spoilt to give them a wash (true story, my friend eventually had to load dozens of thongs into the bath tub and wash them himself........... talk about being emasculated).



Imagine getting married to a babe with what appears to have a gorgeous body, you are totally taken aback by her hips and booty, she makes you wait before you finally win her over, (in reality, she had some other dude sorting her out on the sly). You hook up and get married, then you realise that her booty that looked so inviting in those apple bottomed jeans is in fact cellulite city, her small waist was in fact enhanced by a body shaper, she wears a girdle, her breasts look like deflated rugby balls and she wears a wonder bra.

Are there really babes?

Some might look good with all that make up on, but once it all comes off, the pimple scars show, her glass eye might get a little wonky, you might not like the sight of her coffee stained false tooth soaking in cleaning solution by your bed. Her weave has the thickest, smelliest, dandruff coated thicket of undergrowth propping it up.

Is she still a babe then?

I need something more than just a pretty face or a woman that looks good on my arm, beauty is just an illusion, (but I love it so).

Sex and The Single Bloke part 10. Show some respect gaddemit.

Call me stubborn, call me stiff (no pun intended), call me conceited, call me obnoxious, hit me, spank me (oops!, kindly disregard that), have me hung drawn and quartered. I don't care, I will forever speak my mind.

Why is it that women feel that they manipulate and treat men like crap, simply because they feel they have something that he wants?

Case in point: the other day I received a phone call and it went this way:

"Boorish, I'm horny, come over and pick me up"

"What?"

"Boorish come on, I want you"

''OK lets get this clear, YOU are horny, and YOU want me to cut short my quality time and drive over to your place and sort YOU out?''

Said boorish, wondering if he was hallucinating.

"Worrashit woman are you for real?''

"What is that supposed to mean boorish? ''After all you wanted this not too long ago''.

''Yes I felt the urge ONCE, but you were fronting, probably because you had some dude slipping it to you at that point in time''. Said boorish, clearly bemused at the arrogance of his friend.

''You are nothing but an idiot boorish, an arrogant idiot''.

''Sweetheart, do you think that because you have a hole between your legs, that I will put all aside to make my way across Falomo bridge and pleasure you?''

What about my needs?''

''I am not gagging for it at present, so you should have asked nicely and maybe I MIGHT have considered it''.

She dropped the phone and didn't speak to me for a couple of days, we have since made up, and sex is most definitely not on the agenda.

Ladies, why is it that you believe that all men are rabid, sexually incontinent beasts? OK, I must admit that most are, but you must view us without prejudice. I have never and will never beg, grovel or pander to a woman to get in her pants. The reality of it is that you all need it just as much as we do. Which of you wouldn't much rather be bent over the couch with a nice stiff one in you as opposed to what you are doing now (if you are getting some, good for you)?

I have never had much trouble attracting women, admittedly I am a rather good looking fellow, I just happen to like the women that are honest, not manipulative, mature and will give a brother a fair chance without dragging him over hot coals to prove his worth. I am not saying that I like an easy shag, what I am saying is that there is no need for games. Simply keep it real and be confident enough not to get an ego boost out of the fact that he happens to like you.

As sung by New Edition: 'easily you can be left alone, tighten it up, before you find yourself by yourself''.

SHOW SOME RESPECT GODDAMIT

Sex and the Single Bloke Part 9 (Never Make Her Past an Issue)

I strongly believe that everyone deserves a second chance, the past is gone, it matters not what she has done, all that matters is what she does from the moment you choose to be together. Everyone deserves their privacy, but when it matters, honesty is of utmost importance. Neither he nor she should make the past an issue, before I tell you my story, let me tell you about Hassan. I once had a friend and flat mate (lets call him Hassan), who got involved with a girl that claimed to be a virgin (lets call her Virginia). Hassan and Virginia were the couple of the year, our very own budget Posh and Becks, in the summer they were seen feeding each other ice lollies. At the karaoke club they did irreparable damage to our eardrums whilst warbling Celine Dion hits whilst looking into each other’s eyes. One day Hassan came to my room with tears in his eyes.

“What gives?” I asked with a worried look on my face.

“I am so honoured”, he said. “Virginia has chosen me to be her first”

“I must make it special for her”

“I love her”


Hassanwas a good guy, but ever so naïve, we went out and bought scented candles, massage oil, astroglide (lube) and must surprising of all violin strings.

‘Violin strings?’ I thought to myself. ‘Freaky buggers’.


Later on that evening, Virginia came around and I went off to see a movie.


“Let them have their privacy” I thought to myself


I finished at the cinema, arrived home and to my great surprise Hassan had not drawn his curtains, and there he was playing his bloody violin, with his eyes closed and Virginia was sitting there with a bemused look on her face.

“What a bloody idiot”, I said to myself as I made my way to my local pub.

I sat down, ordered a pint of Hoegaardenand a packet of crisps. I knew I was in for a long night, so I made myself comfortable and prepared myself for consuming copious amounts of booze. A couple of hours later I heard the fishwife pub landlady screech:


“Last call for alcohol”


I passed on a further drink, as I was rather pickled after downing five pints of beer. I made my way home and much to my pleasure Hassan's curtains were drawn. I got home and made my way towards my room, and to my surprise I saw Hassan and Virginia (fully clothed) slow dancing to ‘Tonight I celebrate my love for you’, by Roberta Flack and Peebo Bryson. By this point in time I’d had enough of their stupidity, I went to my room and fell asleep.

I was suddenly awakened by a loud scream, and the entire flat was shaking and shuddering.

I ran out of my room (I sleep in the buff, and had only managed to grab my boxer shorts). As I got to the living room it occurred to me that the noises were coming from Hassan’s room. I listened closely, and much to my horror above the banging and crashing and spanking noises was Virginia’s voice:



“Screw you Hassan”

“Ride me like a pony”

“Ooh Hassan”

“Use me”

“Spank me you dirty bugger”

“I’m your bitch”

“You are the best”


“Best?” I thought to myself. “Shouldn’t she say first?”


It occurred to me that my plonker of a friend was dating a chick with a great deal more experience than he had. The next day I saw Hassan cooking scrambled eggs and singing to himself.

“Boorish did you hear us last night? “I am so lucky, for a virgin she was so damn fiery, she almost killed me”.


“Virgin?” I laughed to myself. “More like fucked”

Hassan eventually found out that Virginia had her fair share of lovers, and her lies ruined what could have been a wonderful relationship. So what if she had been around the block a few times? Why is sex such an issue? Why was she so bothered about her past that she chose to deceive the man? He would have accepted her if she hadn’t lied.

Here is my experience:

I always say forgive the past and look towards the future. I am a grown man, and I owe no one any explanations for my choices, my beliefs were tested when I had a slight disagreement with a dude and he said to me:

"I f..ked your girl the day after I met her"

I was far from happy with what happened, and a part of me wished to resent her for bringing me such embarrassment (it took place at a public gathering). However I rationalized it this way; it was not her intention to embarrass me, in fact she didn’t know me when she had the one night stand with the fool. I rose above the childishness exhibited by the man (I was six years younger than he was) and calmly walked away. I developed a great deal of respect for my girl that night because she had already told me about the guy, she was honest and that was all that mattered to me. I went to the pub to clear my head, I had a few stiff drinks, made my decision and went over to her place that night. As soon as she opened the door, I gave her a bear hug, pulled her into her room and shagged her rotten. The next time we both went out, I put my arm around her waist and held her close as we walked into the gathering. I showed them all that I will always stand by my decisions, I cared about her in spite of her failings. She was honest about her past I had no choice but to respect that.

I never told her what the man said to me........................

I understand that not every man shares my views, and there are men out there that are involved with women that they do care for, they are having a hard time dealing with her past. If you cannot handle it, let her down easily and walk away. It will be most unfair of you to keep reminding her of her 'mistakes' (to me, there are no mistakes, only research)



The past is immaterial, don’t make it an issue.

Happy Anniversary

Happy anniversary to you, Happy anniversary to you!!!!!

Happy anniversary my Valkyrie, five years of a happy marriage, two lovely kids and a great husband, I must say you have done well for yourself. It seems like almost yesterday that you called me to tell me he proposed to you, sorry I missed your wedding.

This is just to let you know that I have forgiven you for swatting me over the head with a fish slice and making me dive out of my kitchen window to escape another hit. I had just shaved my dreads off and you had such a wicked aim, you got me right on the ogo. I know it wasn't nice coming across that picture of the naked onyibo girl in my bed, I still maintain that the picture was taken after we broke up. You really ought not have been going through my stuff anyway, afterall we had stopped being an item a year before.

I have forgiven you for turning my family against me, I will never forget arriving home from work last year only to find you in a deep conversation with my mother and two of my sisters.

"Mummy would you believe that Boorish told me he was just going out to buy newspapers and he didn't come back for three days"

"Mummy would you believe that Boorish had three other girlfriends within a five minute radius of my house"

I forgive you for spiking my drink and laughing at me when I started hearing the lamposts speak , and then seeing a tartan coloured snake slither down the high street.


Happy anniversary my Valkyrie, even though we barely see each other, thanks for being my friend.

I know you read this blog, and your suspicions were right, it is me.

Have a good one!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Sex and The Single Bloke Part 8 (The law of attraction)

We instinctively know whether or not we find a person attractive enough to take them to bed. In as much as we may try to rationalise these things, we must accept that the single law governing attraction is far from rational. From the slight sway in her hips, to the curve of her neck, to the the scent of her perfume and finally to extent to which you choose to explore that person's body, these things are governed purely by instinct.

I have learned that it is an absolute waste of time chasing after members of the opposite sex. Why? You may ask, simply because if that person finds you in anyway attractive, she will make it obvious enough to you, as is said in Lagos today "no long thing". I have been in situations where women I was casually involved with have been dropped over at my place by their toasters and picked up the following morning by these same men. I have been invited over for dinner at their homes, only to be told that their toasters footed the bills for the food (I never could bring myself to eat though). I have experienced women in commited relationships inadvertently leting me know that if i was to jump them, they might not put up too much resistance (it doesn't mean they did not love their partners). Most men are under the misguided notion that time and circumstance are the ultimate arbiters of who a woman chooses to sleep with. Yes they do play a part, but in my view the ultimate arbiter of who she chooses entirely depends on who gets her juices flowing. If she says that she isn't sure, or that she needs time, then my brother she probably doesn't want you enough. Sure, she might enjoy your company, she will probably enjoy the attention and if you stick around long enough she might just sleep with you if she is horny or lonely enough, maybe if you plead with her to a great extent, her compassionate nature might compel her to administer a pity screw, but the bottom line is that you are and probably will remain way down in her pecking order.

Human beings tend to rationalise their actions following the act, a purely physical sexual encounter, may become an emotional one just because of some need to justify what has taken place. Hence, a man that a woman has kept hanging for six months (and in those six months she enjoyed the company of men she truly desired) might suddenly seem like a boyfriend following a unexpected roll in the hay. That is the way it is, it is the way it has always been and it is never going to change. Hence I make no bones about making my interest known to a woman from the very start, it is her choice. if she takes the bait, great, if not I let her be, and stay friends...........................


"No long thing".

If You Dont believe in Karma, Read This.

Last month, I blogged about the chap that worked against me (http://boorishmale.blogspot.com/2007/05/you-worked-against-me.html), I just found out that he was fired from his job this morning. Apparently he was pressuring young girls from humble homes into sleeping with him or else (according to him), they had no hope of gaining employment at the bank. Apparently his favorite words were "I hold the key to your future in my hands". Unfortunately for him he picked on the wrong girl who not only refused to play ball (or should I say balls), but had an uncle that is close friends with the MD of the bank in question.

I have a policy of not gloating or laughing at another man's downfall, but I cannot find it in my heart to feel sorry for him. I pity his children and his wife, as they had no hand in the matter, but the scumbag got what he deserved. The MD of the bank has vowed that he will not get employed anywhere in this country again...............................

God bless him.