My sista, you must marry for money o – Viola Okolie

My sista, you must marry for money o – Viola Okolie
 There is this advert I saw on TV once…

This lady goes to visit a guy, a first time visit. As he opens the door and she looks past him into the house and sees his furniture, she falls in love.

With him or the furniture? Who knows? I guess even the advert executives who thought it up were slightly confused as to what purpose the snake oil they were selling with that advert, would be applied.

Anyway, the more the girl gets into the house, the deeper in love she falls. Again, don’t ask me what she was falling in love with o, the guy in question looked uncomfortable being in the advert and at a point when she picked up a picture frame, I would have clapped and run around my sitting room in glee if the real owner of the house was in the picture surrounded by his family; and the guy in the advert turned out to be just his houseboy or  nephew from the village trying to pull a fast one.

I don’t know if commercials are designed to pass messages across. If yes, MY ending would have perfectly brought the foolishness in that advert to a befitting end.

No such luck.

black wedding

We end with the boy and girl bouncing (fully clothed mind you), on the bed. She looking extremely enthusiastic and planning how to move in the next day and he looking constipated. Wishing he were anywhere else but in that commercial.

If I had written that commercial, there would have been a part two. Where she returns the next day with all her earthly possessions in two big boxes and he would have said something like, “babe, calm down. I think you are moving too fast. What “us”? There is no us babe, I had one night of passion with you and I enjoyed it. You did too. Now shove off, my brother will be back anytime soon and I don’t want him to see you hanging around HIS house and creaming your panties over HIS furniture”.

Perfect ending. Oscar worthy.

But no such luck. The advertisers and their clients were in earnest. We spend all this time telling young ladies that the key to reduced emotional and psychological brouhaha is to NOT answer “Hello”, with “Yes I do”. We tell them not to plan a wedding the minute a guy asks their number but to enjoy relationships for what they are worth and allow them develop slowly or die a natural death if need be…

… Then Universal Furnitures spoils all that effort with a clueless advert that encourages young women to think from the wrong end of their anatomies?

Ihe nke a gwuru ike o, e tire person.

Kind of reminds me of the time I almost married for money. Rich, young, Igbo dude with plenty of crisp cash. He had only one odd against him, this guy was ugly like last night excreta.

No, my village people do not mould humans and I am not THAT fine myself so should not be sitting in judgement over my kindred in looks but biko, let us tell ourselves a little bit of truth: If you are not looking to produce a candidate for a zoo, please mate with someone a little bit finer than you.

Aside from the looks, I also got tired of hearing money talks. Bros let’s talk politics, current affairs, international affairs, anything but money and container and demurrage. Whossai? Once you bring those kind of talk, bobo’s eyes would glaze over but just mention dollar and he would spring up again like the energiser bunny and bend your ear with money talks.

Anyway, this bobo spared nothing in his bid to woo me over. Money was not an object, he spent it and lavished time and attention on me and trust me attention whore that I am, I lapped it all up but… I just couldn’t bring myself to date him, how much less consider marriage.

See, I was smoking hot a few years ago o, truth!

I kept turning him down nicely and explaining how I was not ready for marriage, did not want a relationship, blablabla… anything but the truth. Eventually, his ardour cooled down, we remained friends and I even got a special invite to his wedding. It was a Disney Princess wedding, I was reasonably jealous.

That, but for my strong head, would have been me!

Anyway ooooo, fast forward to five years later when time and chance had happened to us all, I was in the office one day when a security guard brought up a visitor’s form to me. I looked at it and it was Bobo.

I excitedly asked them to let him in and then got the shock of my life when I watched this spectre of the past walk in. It was unbelievable. Life had taken this man, and run him twice through its spin cycle and then a third time for good measure.

He looked like what the cat dragged in after the dog had played with it.

He sat uncomfortably for a few minutes as we exchanged uneasy pleasantries. I have never been one to pry, I allow people get around to sharing with me if they want to. If they don’t, I would still understand and still care as much as they would allow.

Bottom line, he needed a lifeline. Had exhausted his credit lines with all his friends. Needed to put food on the table for his family and I was the only one he could think of. He couldn’t find my number again, but took a chance on my still being in that office I worked in when we were friends.

He was lucky, I was there and I had grown through the ranks.

He needed a loan of 5k, I gave him 20k to keep.

See, life happens to all of us. I have also been down to my last kobo and needed the kindness of friends to see the next meal happen, c’est la vie. I still haven’t located my pot of gold yet so seriously, this life is pawpaw mehn!

But I sincerely, honestly and untongue-in-cheekingly think that it is a good idea for people to marry for furniture or for money.

Nothing else matters.

*my self imposed vacation from Naija politics will soon be over, get ready to be bored by my anti-Buhari rants once again*

*sticks tongue out*

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