This has been one heck of a week. The only thing to be thankful for is that it’s all over. It’s just been one drama after another… To start with, I got to work on Monday to find that Old Scarface (my boss) had left a message asking me to stop by and see him "when I had the chance." At this point, I have to ask why Americans always say you should do something at your convenience, when they really mean that you should get it done like yesterday? One thing I know about us Naijas – we are straight talkers. We say what we mean and we mean what we say, for better or for worse. Not that we don’t have our own brand of "oju aiye" but you’ll agree with me that Americans hold the patent on that particular product, so to speak. But I digress. Anyway, I promptly went in to see him (me I’ve learned how to play the game o) only for the man to tell me that there was a possibility that I might be transferred to the St. Joseph account. St. Joseph ke??!! I couldn’t even hide my outrage! I had specifically declined that "offer" last year and now it seemed like they were trying to get me on that account against my wishes. I spoke like a true Nigerian (all my American diplomacy was discarded in the heat of the moment): "Oga, I no want any queer, queer St. Joseph account o!!" OK, so those weren’t my exact words, but the sentiment was certainly the same: I wasn’t having it! St. Joseph Hospital account is the most dreaded account in the agency. First of all, the clients are out in Pittsfield, which is effectively the boondocks of Massachusetts. It’s a good 3 hours from Boston, and you have to drive out there at least once a week for stupid meetings & presentations. All that stress for a dirty, stinking hospital account with mean ass clients who think you are their personal slave? I think not! I have heard all the horror stories from the poor, hapless souls who’ve had the misfortune of being assigned to that account. I sha made it clear to Scarface that I didn’t want the assignment, and if they try to force me to take it, Lord knows I’ll quit. Life is too short for this kind of nonsense!

As if all that hoopla wasn’t bad enough already, Tunde called me on Wednesday with his own shocker. Now, Tunde and I have been talking on and off for about 3 months now, and I really felt like our "thing" might be going somewhere. But I hadn’t heard from him in over a week, so I was starting to suspect that something might be up. And my worst fears were confirmed when he told me that the reason he’d been incommunicado was because his ex-girlfriend was back in town and they’d been hanging out. Chineke! Of course, I tried to play it cool and act like I really didn’t care. Good thing the conversation was over the phone so he couldn’t see the anguish on my face. I was still trying to compose myself when he proceeded to add insult to the injury: "Reni, I hope this doesn’t change things between us. I mean, I really hope we can still kick it every once in a while." See me see trouble o. Is this boy really for real? Could he really believe that he & I could continue hanging out after he’d dropped that kind of news on me? Or maybe he was just saying that cause he didn’t know what else to say. Not that it makes a difference one way or another. I’m done. I told him I had to get off the phone, and then I proceeded to delete his name from my address book, his e-mails from my in-box and his messages from my answering machine. I was in effect, erasing him from my life. Poof! Vamoose! Be gone, son of a gun!! It’s a pity I couldn’t erase the pain quite as easily, but I’ll deal. I’ve gotten through much worse, so I know I’ll get through this as well. Hey, this girl is stronger than she looks…

Meanwhile, Funlola came to visit me the other day, and what else did she do but lament about the twit she calls a boyfriend. I don’t know why she doesn’t just kick his sorry butt to the curb, but who am I to talk? Small time now, they’ll say I’m hating because I don’t have a man of my own. So I listened to her rage on and on about his infidelity, his lack of respect for her, etc, etc. It’s always the same story week after week. And it’s funny how after she’s finished maligning him from here to California, she always ends with, "Well, maybe I’m overreacting. At least he’s not as bad as XYZ’s boyfriend." It’s like she has to console herself somehow, while rationalizing her decision to remain with a man who is clearly not good for her. Why do we women – particularly Nigerian women - do that? This idea that a trifling man is still better than no man at all, where did it come from? Probably from watching our mothers and aunts take all kinds of abuse from the men in their lives. After a while, we begin to accept that kind of dysfunction as being the norm. But I have decided that the buck stops here. In the words of Karyn White: "I won’t be a fool for love, cause I know I’d rather be alone than be unhappy." Sing it girl! Those nights alone might be tough, but at least I have peace. I won’t exchange my peace of mind for any half-baked excuse for a relationship. My Mr. Right is out there and he’s worth waiting for. Or maybe I’m just not lonely enough yet :-)

As if to test the strength of my resolve, guess who now left me a message on Saturday afternoon, "just to see how I was doing?" Yep, Richard from back in the day! I wonder what he wants… I can’t decide whether or not to call him back. That boy is nothing but trouble o, I know that from personal experience. But he’s fine as anything. Maybe I should call him back, cause it would be rude not to, right? And maybe he’s changed. People change, abi? But Richard can never change o. That one is a player for life! Hey, it’ll just be a friendly conversation between mature adults. What harm can that do? So call him. Don’t call him. Call him. Don’t. And the voices in my head just keep going back and forth. What’s a girl to do??

Find out next week….