“If another house could make a man less of a bastard
And another car could make a woman less of a bitch
Then everyone would be better off richer
Unfortunately, your inner demons don’t respond to retail therapy”
I am a one-of-a-kind, super-fine queen who will accept nothing less than the best from any man. I was born beautiful. In fact the Queen of Sheba has nothing on me. Being treated like the goddess that I am is simply my birthright and all the aunts and uncles in my family can attest to this because they pampered me relentlessly much to the dismay of my darker siblings. Once I became a teenager, I was at the peak of my sexuality. Just a look from me would send the males into a frenzy. Everyone vied for my affection and it became widespread knowledge that I would only entertain the idea of a relationship provided that the person could treat me to the very best. So while the boys and men constantly tried to outmatch each other, I was being smothered in gifts week after week. You name it, I had it. Offers of overseas trips, money, new clothes and hairdos, free grocery, ready assistance to carry my things or do my house chores, new phones, tuition fees prepaid etc.
Of course, the competition would be so intense that sometimes fights would break out. I would either watch these conflicts from a distance (or get wind of it through the grapevine) which inevitably would result in me erupting in laughter. I was hated by the females especially the ones whose husbands and boyfriends shamelessly engaged in this game but I simply ignored their vicious stares and cutting words. Very few would dare to fight me since I had enough practice fighting my siblings. So as much as I was a beauty, I could fight just as viciously as any lioness. However, despite all these different men who offered me gifts, the person I ultimately chose was an African businessman – Ade – who managed to buy me a car. At the age of 16, I had no idea about how to drive and even less about how to begin applying for a driver’s licence and yet, I was already a car owner. Even the adults in my family didn’t manage to own their first car until they reached their late 20s. If I was hated before, I was certainly despised now. This time, by both the men who vied for my affection but were ultimately rejected and the women who continued to swell the ranks of my existing ‘haters’………………….