WHAT YOU WANT IN A MAN

Don’t look at this title and think it doesn’t refer to you. If you are married, use it to remember how you were before you got hitched, if you are single use it as a comparison for your past and future relationships, and if you are in a relationship use it to compare it with how it is now. O! and if you are a lesbian please replace man with woman and handsome with beautiful. Whenever any of my friends tell me they are looking for a man, or they arent happy with the one they are with now, or that all the men around them seem unsuitable. I ask them what are you looking for in a man?

There is nothing they wont say. Some very simply say, tall, rich and handsome. They make me laugh. Alright, are you so fine yourself. Some are more realistic they say I need a man who is taller than I am, fairly good looking, ambitious, rich (or at least is going to be) and with the same religious beliefs as me. Notice that money is often a deciding factor.

Well to all those ladies out there who are still single because they are too tall or too rich for most men, think again. Do you want a man who is so handsome he knows it and so does every other girl who sees his fine face plus he is relaly empty inside. Or if he is so tall you are left staring at his belly button every time you want have a serious discussion. Or if he is of the same religion as you but is the most evil monster around.

Well I think growing older has made me change my ideas and perceptions. I stoppped looking at guys as not good looking enough and smart enough to be with me, instead I started to see them for their inner beauty and lo and behold all sorts of guys started coming after me. I wasn’t any different looking but I think I felt more at ease with myelf and it showed in a new confidence I acquired. I could see through the kind of guys that would be put off by self confidence, ambition and open mindedness. I could also see through guys who could just sweet talk,,,, and talk mainly about themselves even. I could see better what it took to make a man a man.

Next time someone asks you what you want in a man, don’t you think you should be saying things like, someone who will love you for you no matter what. I mean we all change as we grow older, what happens if you become boring and not as attractive anymore. Someone who is kind and thoughtful, it doesn’t take money to show kindness and generosity, words and actions will do. Someone who is understanding and wise, who will advise you to make decisions that will only do you good in life. Someone honest, who will never lie to you even if other people do. Someone who will be supportive and strong when your world seems to be coming down around you. Because it ell you my friends, the older we become the harder life gets. If your life stays the same then you aren't progressing. So if you are looking for someone to share life trials and tribulations with, make sure its someone who is worth it.

Height doesn’t matter!

WHEN IS IT TIME?

My dad in the fear that I was getting too serious (i.e. always getting upset) with my boyfriend once told me, “Girls your age now usually finish school at 22/23 say finish a masters at 25/26, then they get a good job at 27/28, they work for a few years till they are say 32/33 do an MBA or get promoted and finally reach where they ought to be career wise at the age of 35 then they meet a nice guy and by the time they are 40 they may be married. I said yes dad, thank you dad. The poor man was just trying to cheer me up. He hates it when I get upset and will say anything….and I mean anything to make me feel better.

Dad, I would like to get married one day. But I do not want to get married when my ovaries have expired, be in danger of having a downs baby and be too old to change nappies. I hope I get married before I start getting wrinkles and I mean serious ones.

I hope I get married before the only bachelors left have been twice divorced are gay (and claiming to be straight) or are just too experienced for my liking, if you know what I mean. And anyway marriage wasn’t the problem. My boyfriend and I had probably had a misunderstanding. Albeit a small one and as usual I confess I was sulking and feeling sorry for myself. OK! I should grow up but I think I’ve always been a daddy's girl.

When I said good bye to my dad I laughed. The next time my boyfriend called I told him what my dad had said and we had a good laugh again. At least it had served to cheer me us up.

If I was in Nigeria now, I think everyone would be looking at me with frustration, your sister is married, what about you? You aren't getting any younger you know. etc. etc.. I can imagine the torture. So it would probably make them happy if I brought a baboon home and named it Bobo, told them he worked for a vet and came from a very nice family.

To all those mills and boons readers out there. I still believe M&Bs are the crappiest books ever written, sorry if I offend its fans. But I have to agree that there is someone out there for u who will at least make u feel important and loved and if there isn't, it isn't the end of the world. If u haven't met your Mr. Right u don’t have to go and marry Mr. Wrong who will just make you totally miserable for………..THE REST OF YOUR LIFE!!!!!!. Some of you with hot tempers don't want to be in the docks for committing murder man. Because some men can be really terrible. Don’t get me wrong I am not a feminist, women can be just as bad but we usually have more at stake. Like kids, a reputation and stability. Especially if you are a Nigerian woman. If you are unfortunate to be wholly reliant on your husband he can take the kids, house from you and make sure everyone else knows its your fault for being such a slag.

So when is the right time? If there is such a time for you, because not all of us are designed to marry and have babies, it has to be Gods time. So take chill and if anyone is harassing you don’t tell them you are not ready yet. That will just give them more reason to talk. Just tell them to take it easy, God is looking for the man for you.

The Room

In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the room. There were no distinguishing features except for the one wall covered with small index card files. They were like the ones in libraries that list titles by author or subject in alphabetical order. But these files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly endlessly in either direction, had very different headings.

As I drew near the wall of files, the first to catch my attention was one that read "Girls I have liked."  I opened it and began flipping through the cards.  I quickly shut it, shocked to realize that I recognized the names written on each one.  And then without being told, I knew exactly where I was.  This lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalog system for my life. Here were written the actions of my every moment, big and small, in a detail my memory couldn't match. A sense of wonder and curiosity, coupled with horror, stirred within me as I began randomly opening files and exploring their content. Some brought joy and sweet memories; others a sense of shame and regret so intense that I would look over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching.

A file named "Friends" was next to one marked "Friends I have betrayed." The titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird. "Books I Have Read," "Lies I Have Told," "Comfort I have Given," "Jokes I Have Laughed at." Some were almost hilarious in their exactness: "Things I've yelled at my brothers". Others I couldn't laugh at: "Things I Have Done in My Anger","Things I Have Muttered Under My Breath at My Parents."

I never ceased to be surprised by the contents. Often there were many more cards than I expected. Sometimes fewer than I hoped. The sheer volume of the life I had lived overwhelmed me. Could it be possible that I had the time in my years to write each of these thousands or even millions of cards? But each card confirmed this truth. Each was written in my own handwriting. Each signed with my signature. When I pulled out the file marked "Songs I have listened to," I realized the files grew to contain their contents. The cards were packed tightly, and yet after two or three yards, I hadn't found the end of the file.

I shut it, shamed, not so much by the quality of music but more by the vast time I knew that file represented. When I came to a file marked "Lustful Thoughts," I felt a chill run through my body. I pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to test its size, and drew out a card. I shuddered at its detailed content. I felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded. An almost animal rage broke on me. One thought dominated my mind: "No one must ever see these cards! No one must ever see this room! I have to destroy them!" In insane frenzy I yanked the file out. Its size didn't matter now. I had to empty it and burn the cards. But as I took it at one end and began pounding it on the floor, I could not dislodge a single card.

I became desperate and pulled out a card, only to find it as strong as steel when I tried to tear it. Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the file to its slot. Leaning my forehead against the wall, I let out a long, self-pitying sigh. And then I saw it. The title bore "People I Have Shared the Gospel With." The handle was brighter than those around it, newer, almost unused. I pulled on its handle and a small box not more than three inches long fell into my hands. I could count the cards it contained on one hand. And then the tears came. I began to weep. Sobs so deep that they hurt. They started in my stomach and shook through me. I fell on my knees and cried. I cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of it all.

The rows of file shelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes. No one must ever, ever know of this room. I must lock it up and hide the key. But then as I pushed away the tears, I saw Him. No, please not Him. Not here. Oh,anyone but Jesus. I watched helplessly as He began to open the files and read the cards. I couldn't bear to watch His response. And in the moments I could bring myself to look at His face, I saw a sorrow deeper than my own. He seemed to intuitively go to the worst boxes. Why did He have to read every one? Finally He turned and looked at me from across the room. He looked at me with pity in His eyes. But this was a pity that didn't anger me. I dropped my head, covered my face with my hands and began to cry again. He walked over and put His arm around me. He could have said so many things. But He didn't say a word. He just cried with me. Then He got up and walked back to the wall of files. Starting at one end of the room, He took out a file and, one by one, began to sign His name over mine on each card.

"No!" I shouted rushing to Him. All I could find to say was "No, no," as I pulled the card from Him. His name shouldn't be on these cards. But there it was, written in red so rich, so dark, and so alive. The name of Jesus covered mine. It was written with His blood. He gently took the card back. He smiled a sad smile and began to sign the cards. I don't think I'll ever understand how He did it so quickly, but the next instant it seemed I heard Him close the last file and walk back to my side. He placed His hand on my shoulder and said, "It is finished." I stood up, and He led me out of the room. There was no lock on its door. There were still cards to be written. "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me." (Phil. 4:13). "For God so loved the world that He gave His only son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life." 

A new day has come,

But the difference is clear

Today is a good day

My job is still the same

I did not get a raise

Today is a good day

My body is weary

My car is filthy

Today is a good day

My cash flow is low,

My bill flow is high

Today is a good day

Where there was weakness

I’ve found strength

Memories of your smile

Linger on like a stretched mile

You made today a good day,

and you need not even try…“Thanks”