Daddy Issues

I once witnessed a new dad, pick up his new baby-boy and stare at him in the most unusual way. He didn’t smile or coo at his baby. He didn’t try to put his forefinger in baby’s vice-clenched fist. He just stared at him, expressionless. It wasn’t a stolen moment between father and progeny. It was an unrestricted instant of unguarded fellowship, to which I was a welcome intruder, nothing was exclusive, it wasn’t a bonding moment; nothing was intimate. 

Dad’s eyes were glazed over and distant as he held in his arms the proof of his fear; a fear which he had nurtured all these months. The fear of being cast away like an old antiquated doll. He had long been thrown out of their bed unto the sofa because his pregnant wife couldn’t quite get the right sleeping position. She had kicked and slapped during the night, lost in her pursuit for rest. She was sad when he moved to the sofa but quickly he was replaced with seven pillows. 

She didn’t want to go out anymore; more because she felt too “fat” and unfit for social escapades than anything else. He had come to see that one thing did get her out the door though….. shopping for baby. She already did that all day from the sofa, anyway. She typed and scrolled on her phone incessantly. She “added to cart” and “proceeded to check out” at least five times a day, comfortable in her large Ankara caftan (which he planned to burn soon). 

She had stopped making dinner and in fact all the other meals of the day. He had decided that wasn’t so bad, he wasn’t much of an eater anyway. 

All that mattered now was the baby and the baby’s meal plan, the baby’s closet and how they needed to move into a bigger apartment because of the baby. 

The baby. Hmmph! He remembered when he was her "baby”".

She seemed like all the world had to be stilled because of the incumbent. But not in a calming way, more like a muted frenzy. Almost like the day baby arrived, her life would start. All she had before that was just the stand-by life awaiting the arrival of baby. That’s what she called the incumbent; "Baby". And what did she call him, her husband, who she formerly called "Baby", "cupcake" and all variations of sweets: Daddy. She now called him "Daddy". She had read somewhere that calling him "Daddy" would set the tone for his new paternal duties and status. Also the baby would hear the word often and be aware from an early stage that the vibrations and phonetics in the word would make him certain of the security a father provided. Bull.

As daddy held baby in his arms, he seemed far away, stranded somewhere away from hope, floating somewhere so far below his expectations. 

Then baby cooed. As he opened his heavy eyelids to reveal the purest form of inquisitiveness, i watched daddy's expression melt like wax. The straight line in between his lips angled slowly, then unable to hold back, his lips drew back to reveal a toothy grin. This wasn't so bad. How could anyone complain with all this wonder emanating from one little being! He would gladly give up the name "Baby" for "Daddy" any day. 

******** 

A lot of men never admit it but they feel a bit left out when a baby is on the way or has just arrived. It's really not just because they feel ignored, it's more of a culmination of various changes that happen all at once and stand a chance of never returning to the way it was. For example, the way she wakes up and now reaches for baby first, who now sleeps in between them. The way she looks at baby. How sex is so far off the menu. How she no longer shops at Ann Summers but stands in line at Hamley’s. The lacy Victoria Secret’s have been shoved into the back closet and all she wears now are something that clearly has no secrets. It sounds a little selfish but who isn’t a little selfish with their partner. It's not like they aren't stoked becoming a dad but still they can’t help feeling like they have to scoot over from wife’s favorite chair. Plus, everyone tells them to be "Man about it". Being a man also requires getting some attention and affection too, right? 

Get over it and be like this guy! I'm kidding. But seriously though, this guy.

Long Distance Relationships: That Sweet Safe Spot

About 10 minutes into your long distance relationship (LDR), you’d quickly come to realize that your new location seems to be inundated with exceptionally attractive members of the opposite sex! There's one next door, one standing next to you on the bus, one at work, church too, one in class, one at the store, one at someone's 70th birthday celebration (they are everywhere, especially the most unexpected, dull places). Some of these people you probably wouldn’t notice if your significant other (sig-other for short) was near. Well, sig-other is not near and you do notice. 

This sudden awareness of other people, might be just a heightened sensitivity to the void left by sig-other. In other words, you are lonely and probably a little needy……physically, which is totally expected. 

However, let's just put it out there, you are expected to remain within the bounds of honesty, which is required by your relationship and also to remain within the bounds of your clothing, if you know what i mean. It's easy to say and much less easy to achieve. 

So imagine, you are at your friend's aunt's 70th birthday party (beware of those "harmless" parties). You were willing to go because, well, you had absolutely nothing else to do or because you are miserable about your new LDR status and this couldn't be any worse. Anyway, whatever your reason, there you are at this elderly gathering and then you see this really good-looking girl (who we can call I.D). You notice I.D and move on. After the party, your friend tells you he gave I.D your number because she asked for it. 

 You panic a little, being the careful boyfriend that you are. And then you self-pacify and tell yourself I.D won't call. Surprise!

 I.D calls. It's friendly and casual. You tell her you will keep in touch but you tell yourself you won't. You also conveniently forget to tell her you have girlfriend because it's "too much information" for a first "friendly" conversation. You

do

keep in touch with I.D (if you haven't figured it out yet, I.D is short for Inevitable Disaster). 

Something tells you you should tell your sig-other but you consider this trivial. Nothing dramatic ever comes out of casual acquaintanceship. An LDR is not prison, you are allowed to have friends, friends like I.D, you tell yourself.

In our LDR, we did have a sizable number of I.Ds. Aware that we were both human and admitting that promptly, we faced reality squarely. No one is immuned to slip ups, least of all LDRers. Also let me say this now, there will be attractions, like i said, heightened sensitivity to the void and all, and also because you are human and you don't live in a cave as a hermit. I tried living as a hermit once to avoid attractions but that didn't work out. These things have a way of finding you even in hiding. Lol! 

So how did we deal with crushes and attractions in a long distance relationship? One word. 

Transparency; 

the quality of being transparent. 

Transparent

/transˈperənt/ 

adjective

Having thoughts , feelings or motives that are easily perceived.

Being easily perceived is a little difficult in an LDR, so being transparent needs a little bit of effort here. It's more active than passive and it requires a certain amount of vulnerability and honesty.

So here's the fun part.

What we did was to be honest about developing attractions and crushes, if there were any at all. And there might have been one or two.

“Are you crazy?” I hear you saying, “Why would I tell sig-other that I am attracted to someone else? That's LDR suicide.”

And

 you are right! It is suicide if not managed properly. Which brings me to constructive transparency. It's not just ok to be transparent but rather

 to be

constructively transparent.

This would mean being verbally honest with your motives and actions with your sig-other, with the intent of ensuring your relationship is successful both on the long run and short run. Of course, this includes being open to each other about I.Ds and undercover I.Ds (the ones who pose as your friends) and any other new happenings that might impact the relationship  adversely or otherwise. Doing this creates a safe spot in your relationship that fosters honesty and pinches off budding insecurities. 

As you eat your take-away cake from the 70th birthday celebration, you contemplate telling sig-other about I.D. There is  60% chance this would end in a fight, but isn't it worth it on the long run?

 What would you do? Would you tell sig-other?  

Please drop your comments below!

P.s : This is a safe spot! Say it as it is.  x

Disclaimer: not every relationship is nuts enough to do this but every relationship should ensure the purest form of honesty it has the ability to attain.

Ten things (plus one) you didn't know About Men!!!!

A couple of weeks back, I wrote  a post about ten things (plus one) to know about girls with different body types (read here). Who knew skinny girls were less fussy about size. Hehe. 
Today, it's the guys' turn! Men, these are just pure scientific fun findings, let those guards down. You may even love science just a little bit more after this. Girls, prepare to be shocked by #1(if you didn't already know) and #3. Everyone should read this list........you know, just in case you get dumped because of #9 or #3 is your reality.
Here goes......



1.Men with big bellies last longer!

Girls, Yes indeed. Think about all the men you turned down because they bore no resemblance to Idris Elba or Adam Levine or the Hemsworth brothers. Haha. The bellies scorn thee.
Men with big bellies have a higher level of a hormone known as estradiol, which helps them last longer than their ripped compadres.



2.Short men (shorter than 5"7) tend to have stable marriages

Way to go, Short men!!! They also have a lower chance of getting cancer. However, they tend to do less house chores. Tut-tut-tut, short men, just when you were becoming our favorite.

3. The average age of his boxers is eight years!

Lol! Eight years. That's like two presidential terms!!! Men, if you have underwear from the time  Blair, Bush, Chirac, Obasanjo were in power....do the needful.



4. Men who prefer big bums tend to be business majors

....And so it's no longer a mystery what those  business-major guys are doodling on their notes during Accounting class. Men who like big bums (and they can not lie) are also seen to be organized and tidy. They are dependent in their relationships.....


5. .....While men who prefer smaller bums are great project executioners

This men see their projects through. Good job, men who prefer smaller bums! They do not to seek public approval and are less fanatical about sports. 



6.  Men with mustaches are more likely to be hired 

Studies show that men with mustaches tend to be more reliable.  Employers therefore, hire them 8.2% more than their beardy mates and 4.3% more than their clean shaven pals. 
Tell that to Frank Donga. 


7. Men with beards are perceived to be the epitome of masculinity.

Little wonder that men who struggled with growing a beard since the beginning of the NO SHAVE November rave, have opted for beard transplants!
I didn't even know that was a thing.
Bearded men are associated with power, leadership, maturity and women see them as better providers. In fact, a study shows that women tend to associate beards with the ability to provide for them during pregnancy [Women sure think light years ahead].


8. How to get the girl? Wear a pink shirt!

Men who are comfortable wearing pink happen to be better educated, make more money and get the girls' attention! Who knew? So to really get the girl, grow a huge beard, grow a belly and wear a pink shirt. And throw out old underwear. Please. 


9. Poor men like bigger breasts

Studies suggest they may be trying to compensate for any "resource insecurity" they might have. I think I'll let the scientists have the final words here. Oh, yeah they also love sports.

10. Men who wear briefs might be stuck in their childhood
  

Briefs. Superheroes. Superman. Ninja Turtles. Don't. Why? Tight. Heat. Daddy-pants. Wear boxer briefs instead. It's close enough. 



11. Men who prefer small breasts tend to be Engineers! 

This study showed that men who preferred smaller frontal lady-lumps were nuturant in their relationships and indefinite about their careers paths.
They also happen to be mainly engineers.  

Gotta love Science......

Share with someone who you are certain would laugh first and then protest to these findings an hour later.

Have a great weekend! x



















Sources

http://www.inquisitr.com/1865600/scientific-study-characteristics-of-men-breasts-butts/http://thoughtcatalog.com/amanda-chatel/2015/04/sorry-guys-studies-show-beards-may-be-going-out-of-style/

http://www.webmd.com

http://www.menshealth.com

http://www.salon.com/2010/09/08/turkish_sex_study_bmi_male_performance_open2010/

http://www.salon.com/2013/08/17/9_weird_facts_about_breasts/

http://www.thegloss.com

1: The Tale of the Gidi Prince (Inspired by True Life Events)

Once upon a time, in the year 2015, on a coastal metropolitan city far far away, known as Lagos (aka Gidi), lived a wealthy prince. The prince was the most handsome in the land (or so he thought) and had slain many a foe and fought many battles (on his PS 4). 

The prince was not actually from Gidi but had relocated from his kingdom which was a couple of hours away, to look for a day job. Being a prince was no longer as prestigious as it once was. All he had to show for his royal heritage, was a name and strange tribal praises from toothless old women during family festivities.  He now had to actually work for his pay and luxury. 

Nevertheless, he did pretty well (because he had family connections). He worked in oil and gas. The ultimate chic-magnet.

His noble stead; a BMW hybrid (2014) complete with a 3.0L I6 engine. 

His loft apartment towered above life below on the island,  overlooking the Ocean on one side and the mainland in the distance from another. 

He had three scheduled meal times, daily, complete with a tea break at 4pm, which Effiong, the chef, catered to.

Life was good for this modern-day prince. He had everything. Everything, but a princess. The prince knew the time had come to find a suitable bride.

All his friends were engaged or married or paying child support. O yes, the time had come. The Queen (his mum) could not stress this enough. The time had come for her to be a grandmother, a statement she made as she rolled theatrically on the ground and crying whenever he went home to visit (which was why he didn't visit very often). 

Soon, he gave into the Queen’s emotional blackmail and decided to find a worthy maiden on the streets of Gidi. At least, he didn't have to endure the plight of the real fairytale princes who had to ride out on horses for months, looking for some princess in a castle with a giant moat. With a sore butt, he would have to slay some psycho dragon and then on occasion, kiss the princess who had been sleeping for years (the breath on that one. Pheeew!)  Not in this fairytale. He would ride out in his coupe and the girls would flock, he'd buy one a drink and in three months they'd be wed. Life had become so much more easier. 

Now, the prince wasn't looking for some Gold digger. Gold diggers were to be avoided like a plague according to page 23 of "The Handbook of Successful Prince-ing”. Luckily, he had Instagram and could do his research before he ventured out into the wilderness and cross the seven seas to find his princess.

 By the seven seas, he meant third mainland bridge.

He had a knowing that his bride was on the other side. He had heard the mainland was the land of “wife-material” and equally the land of “gold-digging”.  It was the land where brains conquered brawn and cunning ruled the kingdom. He hardly had any business on the mainland except when he went to the airport. This was a new land and an adventure he was eager to embark on.

 How could he get a girl who loved him for who he was? How could he avoid the temptations of the gold-diggers and stay true to his mission? 

Was it true there was a Debonaires on the mainland? Maybe this adventure wouldn't be so bad after all.

 Dear readers, this is an SOS call! Please help the prince as he begins his journey to find a fair maiden on the streets of Lagos. 

How do you spot a gold digger? Where do you find "wife material"? Your guidance and advice would be much appreciated.....

{Please note that the prince is an actual person* but has been moderately adjusted for our purposes and his anonymity.}

Psych 1: Big cat sage

 I will write this in no particular order, touching on the fragments that make up that pivotal moment of attraction.

 The first thing I would talk about happens to be my personal favorite and I'd say it is the cornerstone upon which everything involved in reeling in a female builds on. 

Psychology.

 The study of mind and behavior.  

 Let me tell you the fascinating story of how old lions hunt. Genius predators. Old and spent, they no longer have all the vigor of youth but they have what young lions lack; experience, wisdom.....patience. When the old lion spots a prey, he stays out of sight, stalking the prey and sprays a swathe of his urine in a wide circle around the area where prey is peacefully grazing... And then it roars.

 If you have not heard a lion roar in real life (not on TV), it's hard to understand the event. When I first met my wife, one of our first few dates was to a zoo (she has a thing for zoos). We walked into the zoo, and after walking a few feet in I saw this guy run past us with a crazy look in his eyes, following closely behind him was a girl (his date maybe). I stopped and looked around trying to figure out what was happening. Another disbanded group hurried past us to the exit.

 For a second I was sure one of the animals had escaped. And then I heard it; it was one of the scariest things I would ever hear. I could swear it came from behind me. A roar. Deep, menacing, confident, encompassing.  I had never heard one before in real life, but I was sure without doubt it was a lion and it WAS right behind me.

 My wife-then-girlfriend who was a couple of feet ahead of me turned around, and as if on cue, we proceeded to run into each other, comically bouncing apart and continued running in opposite directions. I later had to endure mumbling an apology at the speed at which I moved, this was one of the few times I lost my cool.

 After some research, I found out the sound of a lion’s roar envelopes you and and there is almost no way to detect the direction it's coming from. And so the prey reacts instinctively in fear by running for its life. However, every time it smells the lion's pee, it turns back and runs in the opposite direction till it runs right into the waiting arms, or jaws of the lion. Dinner is served. 

Now this is the old lion. 

The young lion is what we see on Television, running, chasing, panting, exerting energy, in a bid to capture its prey. 

The old lion or the young lion; brains or brawn? Which will you be?

Rule 1

: As a businessman, never do the chasing.

Psych, to be continued… 

The bartender series: The Rouse of the Dance

I have hung up my proverbial “boot”.

And I say this emphatically as some folks are still in doubt. To be honest I sometimes long for the old days when I was the absolute bachelor, but on the flip-side, I love-love my new domesticated life. Ok, it is not so domesticated. I hit the night scene with my smoking hot wife often enough. We still manage to swing the dancefloor in dizzying circles, have a wild night and spends days recovering (weekdays inclusive).

Back in the days before I got all loved up, I was quite the businessman; I don’t like to use the word player, because I’d like to think what I did was actually serious business and not just games. I had two buddies with whom I would sit for hours and strategize, plotting how to go about executing our plans. Plans on “how to get the girl”. Some of our plots worked like clockwork, and some did not, but most importantly, we learnt.

What I would like to do here is share my wealth of experience and derived knowledge with fellow “businessmen”. There are a lot of single guys out there in the business, and sometimes they might goof at the whole affair of closing a deal, or as I like to say “doing the dance”.

The dance:

that elaborate and exquisitely beautiful process that goes on from the moment a guy sets his eyes on an object of his desire, all played out (as though in slow mo) to the sound of Pachelbel’s Canon in D. From the sighting, to the watch, 1st contact, the waltz, and from there on, whatever twist things take, the music swells, the steps tap to a faster tempo. Through it all one thing is certain, there is always a climax; it either implodes, explodes, rockets out to space, or sputters out like a burnt out fire cracker. Nothing remains the same after the dance.

Most guys I know do the dance for the Kandahar (\ˈkən-də-ˌhär\), the delicious cookie in the jar. They live and breathe it. For them the dance is all about getting into the cookie jar and nothing else. But in my opinion that gets old, gets messy, and on several occasions, you get some “takeaway” from it. I on the other hand, did the dance for the sport, the sheer thrill of the chase, the euphoria and the adrenaline pumping through my body, knowing and not knowing how things would play out, but knowing that when I win, my ownership is complete.

But this series is not about the Kandahar, or how to get Kandahar. If that is what you are looking out for here, I can't help you {plus, the thing about Kandahar is; it is easy, like everything in our generation is}. This is about reawakening the long forgotten art of courting a lady and engaging her in the dance. I would take you on a path that explores the very essence of the female mind and try to understand how to get inside it by very basic techniques that has worked for me time and again.

Enjoy,

The Bartender.