I was minding Mark Zuckerberg’s entire Meta business on Instagram a few days ago when I saw this post.
Now, as a seasoned journalist (Lol. Maggi in the mud), I tried to “peruse” Google to confirm if this indeed happened. Momma Vanzant has been married thrice; once to a Y̶o̶r̶u̶b̶a̶ ̶D̶e̶m̶o̶n̶ ̶ Nigerian so I guess it was hard to confirm exactly who the cookie culprit was.
Or maybe it wasn’t. Maybe I was just too hungry to embark on an extensive research into failed celebrity marriages. It’s not my own, abeg. I don’t want stress.
If you don’t know who Iyanla Vanzant is, well, look her up. Damn. This generation. So lazy. Want to be spoon-fed. All the time. So you were expecting me to bring you a bio? So rude. In fact, where are your parents?
So, here’s what we’re going to do: We’re going to move on with this piece with the conviction that this happened; that this was the last straw that decapitated the camel’s back; that this happens a lot more than we like to think it does.
How do I know? I *could be Iyanla in certain situations. Not in the, “I was once married to a cookie hoodlum” way but in the “I understand that nothing is ever really little in the scheme of things” way, especially when you love having people you care about show you they always have you in mind.
I like to think that I’m a selfless human being. In fact, so selfless I just might be the real life version of that character from Squid Game that subjected herself to cold murderousness so that her bestie of 5 minutes could survive.
Lol. Lori iro.
I am always thinking about my people though, factoring them into my plans. When I’m cooking, I’m cooking to feed myself and mouths that aren’t mine. Call me a philanthropist. When I’m trying to buy stuff — anything at all — I’m thinking, “I should prolly get for this big head too…and that other big head and maybe one more for that last big head.” It’s just who I am. I am friendly with a lot of people but before you’re done saying Beyoncé Giselle Knowles-Carter, I’d have named all my close friends. That’s how I can afford to be Santa. It’s not like I have plenty money.
So imagine that one day, I run out of gas (which is very possible these days because WTH are these gas prices?) Now, because I do not have gas and I cannot get breakfast sorted, I do the usual, selfless Abdullahi thing; I call my guy who usually grabs breakfast at my place before cabbing to work that pe, “gas don finish o, we no fit see food chop for here this morning o!”
Now, imagine again pe, this bro, as he approaches my abode, spots a buka nearby and purchases rice, beans and plantain. Hehe. He did not just purchase it o, he balances his body inside the canteen and swallows everything, wipes his mouth clean and proceeds to my place.
Bro gets to my flat. Says hello and keeps mum. As an Aroma Inspector that I am, I immediately clock Iya Rihanna’s signature peppered stew smell.
Well, hello from the other side MF.
“Ahn ahn, bro how far na? You branch Iya Riri buka ni?”
“Omo, I just quickly down small rice ni jare”
“Soft. Soft. Why you no buy my own join nauuu?” *Tears already gathering in the backyard of my eyes*
“Bro, I no know say you go wan chop nau. You for don tell me”
Tears of GRIEF immediately swell up inna me eyes because I’m about to go through the first four stages in 30 seconds:
1. Shock and Denial: “No, bro didn’t just do that to me.”
2. Pain & Guilt: “Na so hunger go take wire me today? Why I no call am, tell am sef?”
3. Anger & Bargaining: “But brooo, you suppose at least, call me na, ask me if I go wan chop. You know say if na me, I no go air you like this na.”
4. Depression: “I don’t have anyone in this life. No one loves me. Ordinary rice, they cannot buy for me. God, why me? How am I going to make it through the day, not to talk of this long life? Beware, beware. Fake friends everywhere.”
You get the idea? The thing could be very painful o! Really heartbreaking. Could as well reassess the relationship at that very moment.
“What are we doing, bro? This whole thing is clearly not working anymore.”
This is not to excuse all of the good things that said bro represents. I have come to realise, but not accept…yet that some people don’t just know how to show love in other ways that matter. Some might even think all it takes is to show up when needed or to provide when asked. To simply “be there.” But how about taking initiative? Why are you comfortable playing the passive role? How can you show a loved one you care about them before they ask you for anything?
Why is it so hard to buy the type of cookie your lover loves? Why can’t you buy me Iya Riri’s rice?
Iyanla’s situation was a lot different. The dude was probably a hoodlum in many other areas and hoarding cookies was the deal breaker. It was like the other things he had (allegedly) done wasn’t enough to set the house on fire until the cookie mishap occurred.
I guess I want to ask, do you notice these “little things” in your relationships? Be it platonic or romantic? If you do, do they bother you? If they do, how do you handle these situations? Do you address them head on or just let them slide? Please, let me know!
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