Pinky's Diaries

And he said “Babe, write me a love letter this Valentine. That’s all I want” I blame myself for being in love with someone who is weird. What ever happened to asking for PS5 like I see other men do? Where am I meant to start from? Do I say “Dear boo or what”? I am too playful to know how to write a love letter but I’ll try. So. . . Dear babe, How are you doing today? How’s your family? Hope everyone is in good health. If so, doxology! I do joke a lot. I love you, babe. I love you just because you are kind, warm, playful, thoughtful, generous, talented, good and cheesy. I love you just because you never hide that you love me. You say it in different ways, show it every opportunity you get. You are simply amazing. You understand friendship and I am glad you are my friend. You know that love, just like faith, without good work is dead. You don’t talk a lot. Sometimes I wish I can open your mind and read what goes on in there like a book. You listen to me always, my

I got back to my desk to find a query from the HR with subject SEXUAL HARRASSMENT. It ended with “Kindly explain why disciplinary action won’t be taken out on you...” I sat back on my seat for a moment. Whew! I hate queries! “Dear All” I wrote “In order to properly explain myself, I need to tell you a story. I’d like to believe I’m normal. Nothing special. And this is not me being modest. I think, behave and talk normal which is why I find it really abnormal when I’m sitting in a toilet doing toilet business, sleeping, watching a movie, reading a book, waiting for an anger to pass or doing whatever and someone knock and keeps knocking. Ordinarily, I’d answer or make a noise just so whoever is knocking knows that the toilet is occupied. Let’s say you are this person and you hear someone inside speak, you would walk away and try the next door right? Because you are normal, yes! But there are abnormal people who roam the streets daily. People who may have been dropped on thei

I went for crossover service. I haven’t done that since I came to Lagos. The vibe of crossover service in the village is way better than what you see here. In the village, I get a different high from the cold, having to trek a long distance through a sandy path to get to church and running from people throwing fireworks recklessly. In church, we danced into the new year. We dance for hours with no care in the world. What I’ve seen in my parish in Lagos was a different level of boring. People wore heels, agbada and heavy make up to crossover mass. The first and only time I went, mass started by 10pm and sermon ended by 11:45pm. The priest asked us to sit solemnly and wait for 12am. I wanted to ask “Father, what the fuck do you mean?” but I didn’t. I sat quietly and waited like a meek lamb with the rest of the congregation. It was more like a wake keep and I blame all the misfortunes of that year on that crossover mass. When the new year finally came, we all said “Happy new year” grudg