Have you ever wondered why things aren’t going the way they should or the way you expected when you decided to hook up with your spouse? I mean, it’s been like ages since you saw the sun rise on your hitherto rosy, perfectly romantic relationship…or maybe it was never that good, and you can’t just place your fingers on the WHY! Do you find it hard to point out where things started off wrong, and even when you seriously wish it all goes back fine, you find your hands so tied you can’t even make any move? If you do, then you need to stick your eyes on your screen for a few minutes more…I think I can help you with some good tips.
First, I need you to ask yourself the following questions:
1. What got me into this relationship?
2. Why was I so convinced I could get the above from this relationship?
3. What was I willing to share with or sacrifice for my spouse when I decided to hook up with him or her?
4. How much have I done to fulfill these things in 3 above?
5. What do I want from my spouse now?
6. What does my spouse want from me now?
7. Does my spouse have what it takes to give me what I want now?
8. Do I have what my spouse wants from me now?
9. Have I told my spouse what I want from him or her presently?
10. Does my spouse know what I want from him or her presently?
You don’t have to rush these questions, just be sincere with yourself and get the answers written down.
However let me point out that you need a more defined answer for each question, for instance in the first question; it will not be helpful to say you got into your present relationship because of ‘love’ – I tell you almost everybody do or at least – think they do! You need to define instead, what you thought finding love will do for you.
The second item on my menu is a simple task;
I need you to send a copy of these questions to your spouse, tell them your purpose first and then, invite them to discuss your answers and theirs with you. You will be surprised at how much you never knew about yourselves and very possibly, you could set a stage for a better and more matured relationship with your Romeo or Juliet.
Good Luck Guys and Gals!
Sunday 24 October 2010
Friday 22 October 2010
FOUR NIGHTMARES THAT CAN KEEP A WOMAN AWAKE FOR NIGHTS
1. She: “Is my bikini Beautiful, Musa?”
Almost every woman will rather choose to wake up from a Dracula nightmare and meet Obasanjo giggling beside her in bed than not hear her man tell her how cute she looks, after she had done well to make him wonder at how lucky he is to have a woman with her looks. Some guys self????? They are just too blunt; they can’t feel it and they can’t even see it. She needs you to tell her she is beautiful; she probably spent hours at the mirror…she didn’t mind – it was all about you, her man and baby. Then you come up just mopping or probably pretending not to see what God had placed in your hands, until she had to ask for your opinion!
2. Emeka: “But I love you more than I love her!”
Some women can get their hearts “jacked” with the faintest thought of sharing their man. Any woman (not sure of Muma G oh!) could share their makeup kit and even wears; some can even give up their jewelry to an enemy; but very few (if they exists at all) can bear the thought of borrowing their man even to a sister – whether of the womb or in the lord; talk more of share him. However, when shit happens – like it always does, (a) they rather pretend it never did, (b) decide not to believe, (c) better still, believe it won’t happen again or (d) more complicated, all of the above. Those options are better (for some) than accepting they are sharing their man – a very scary fate. It doesn’t change much even when you try to get to understand how much better you love them.
3. Jude: “Baby! [Yes!], You don’t cook well”
Somebody once told me that you could make a fantastic cook out of a woman-concoctionist (need the word for a second please) if you just find something good to say about her pot art, which would normally pass for a poison-of-a-meal. Now, I have observed that irrespective of an infamous disposition towards the pot and its content, no woman wants to be labeled a bad cook. I don’t think you want to keep telling her how bad she cooks. You don’t want her thinking that living with you was a nightmare, do you?
4. Brother: “Sister please Meet Mr. Wrong”
Meeting Mr. Right use to be something of an obsession for girls; In fact, back then when women were girls, any girl could describe to you a digital picture of her dream dude even if she had just been woken up. They are very good at that – just as they as so bad at meeting Mr. Wrong. If you just said “Permit me to introduce you to Mr. Wrong!” and then peep into her mind to see what was cooking, you will almost knock over a portrait with lucifer’s horns, Busta’s Mouth, Mr. Beans eyes, Great Khali’s leg, Mr. Ibu’s belly…I mean you could just bump into a beast in her mind when she hears you say Mr. Wrong; even if you had mentioned wrong without the ‘r’. Funny enough some girls grow up still having the “my-prince-to-the-rescue’s” picture in their mind.
Almost every woman will rather choose to wake up from a Dracula nightmare and meet Obasanjo giggling beside her in bed than not hear her man tell her how cute she looks, after she had done well to make him wonder at how lucky he is to have a woman with her looks. Some guys self????? They are just too blunt; they can’t feel it and they can’t even see it. She needs you to tell her she is beautiful; she probably spent hours at the mirror…she didn’t mind – it was all about you, her man and baby. Then you come up just mopping or probably pretending not to see what God had placed in your hands, until she had to ask for your opinion!
2. Emeka: “But I love you more than I love her!”
Some women can get their hearts “jacked” with the faintest thought of sharing their man. Any woman (not sure of Muma G oh!) could share their makeup kit and even wears; some can even give up their jewelry to an enemy; but very few (if they exists at all) can bear the thought of borrowing their man even to a sister – whether of the womb or in the lord; talk more of share him. However, when shit happens – like it always does, (a) they rather pretend it never did, (b) decide not to believe, (c) better still, believe it won’t happen again or (d) more complicated, all of the above. Those options are better (for some) than accepting they are sharing their man – a very scary fate. It doesn’t change much even when you try to get to understand how much better you love them.
3. Jude: “Baby! [Yes!], You don’t cook well”
Somebody once told me that you could make a fantastic cook out of a woman-concoctionist (need the word for a second please) if you just find something good to say about her pot art, which would normally pass for a poison-of-a-meal. Now, I have observed that irrespective of an infamous disposition towards the pot and its content, no woman wants to be labeled a bad cook. I don’t think you want to keep telling her how bad she cooks. You don’t want her thinking that living with you was a nightmare, do you?
4. Brother: “Sister please Meet Mr. Wrong”
Meeting Mr. Right use to be something of an obsession for girls; In fact, back then when women were girls, any girl could describe to you a digital picture of her dream dude even if she had just been woken up. They are very good at that – just as they as so bad at meeting Mr. Wrong. If you just said “Permit me to introduce you to Mr. Wrong!” and then peep into her mind to see what was cooking, you will almost knock over a portrait with lucifer’s horns, Busta’s Mouth, Mr. Beans eyes, Great Khali’s leg, Mr. Ibu’s belly…I mean you could just bump into a beast in her mind when she hears you say Mr. Wrong; even if you had mentioned wrong without the ‘r’. Funny enough some girls grow up still having the “my-prince-to-the-rescue’s” picture in their mind.
Monday 18 October 2010
Why I called It Quit with Debie, My Fiancee
Sometimes it is difficult to let go someone you love but what if you had enough reasons to? Or what if someone thinks you don't, after you did? Read this short story and tell lovebirdsguide what you think.
Debie was everything I could ever ask for in a woman. But that was what I thought few years ago when we met in U/rimi Kaduna. It was at a friend’s book launch. It wasn’t long before our relationship steamed up. We had all the good times couples with our means could afford, but little did I know that it was all going to end so soon. For starters, I am the commitment-type of guy and I respect relationships a lot.
I thought that attitude would keep us flying, since she was also in for the relationship (or so I thought). We got down to real business months later when I told her I wanted to settle down and raise a family with her. A couple of weeks before I engaged her I discovered she had taken in even though we hadn’t seen each other in a long while.
When I asked her how she got the ‘life’ forming in her stomach, she told me she was raped two months before. I was shocked! She hadn’t told me of the incidence before then and I thought that was very unusual; we always shared our bad and good. However, I tried to excuse her silence on her unstable mind. She told me it happened while she was in school and that the boys were cultists. I was sad and guilty. She must have gone through hell. I kept biting my conscience especially when I didn’t share her pains with her. So we decided on what to do – we agreed to keep the baby but not until she had ran some tests.
Life continued as usual until one very sad day. I woke up happy and feeling good; she was about 6 weeks pregnant. I never knew the day was going to be a nightmare. When I got a call from a colleague at work, who had just been promoted, to attend his emergency thanksgiving party I looked forward to a happier day. The party was to hold in his family house very close to the Obalande slum – a popular hangout for sex workers in Kaduna.
That evening, I drove with Kelechi – my club mate – to the venue. On our way there we decided it was going to be a good idea to stop close by for a drink. We got to a bar, just adjacent the obalande main street and that was when I saw a sight I still can’t believe wasn’t a dream. My honey and fiancée-in-wait was hovering over a small but rich-looking Alhaji. The world and even the gulp of cold Heineken flowing down my throat stood still. I spitted some drink and pointed towards her like a child who just saw a ghost.
“KC...KC”, I called looking for the right word.
“What’s that; why did you spit out your drink like that?” He asked embarrassed. I didn’t have to answer that as he followed my fingers and as his eyes settled on the target; he dropped his glass so had the owner of the bar had to shout
“Make una no Break my cup oh!”
“Williams, isn’t that your Fiancée?” It was his turn to shout.
I didn’t have an answer to his question; I stood up and walked towards the two. My honey was three-quarter necked and she clang to the Alhaji as though if he left her for her peers, she would drop dead that night.
KC called on me to come back, but that was what I thought he was saying; I couldn’t even hear the flow of my breath. I didn’t even know what I was going to do when I met the two. Few steps before them, she turned and the fear in her eyes was in itself scary.
“Baby!” She shouted.
“Baby!!” I was just walking towards her and before she shouted my pet-name the third time, she fainted. The Alhaji slipped into his Xj jaguar and zoomed off. I rushed to pick her up; as I held her in my arms I knew it would be the last time to feel her soft skin. KC came to join me and we drove her back to my apartment. She was ok before we got home but we couldn’t discuss the shock. I woke up the next morning and that was when I knew it was never going to work between us. I called off the engagement; I called it quit.
Debie was everything I could ever ask for in a woman. But that was what I thought few years ago when we met in U/rimi Kaduna. It was at a friend’s book launch. It wasn’t long before our relationship steamed up. We had all the good times couples with our means could afford, but little did I know that it was all going to end so soon. For starters, I am the commitment-type of guy and I respect relationships a lot.
I thought that attitude would keep us flying, since she was also in for the relationship (or so I thought). We got down to real business months later when I told her I wanted to settle down and raise a family with her. A couple of weeks before I engaged her I discovered she had taken in even though we hadn’t seen each other in a long while.
When I asked her how she got the ‘life’ forming in her stomach, she told me she was raped two months before. I was shocked! She hadn’t told me of the incidence before then and I thought that was very unusual; we always shared our bad and good. However, I tried to excuse her silence on her unstable mind. She told me it happened while she was in school and that the boys were cultists. I was sad and guilty. She must have gone through hell. I kept biting my conscience especially when I didn’t share her pains with her. So we decided on what to do – we agreed to keep the baby but not until she had ran some tests.
Life continued as usual until one very sad day. I woke up happy and feeling good; she was about 6 weeks pregnant. I never knew the day was going to be a nightmare. When I got a call from a colleague at work, who had just been promoted, to attend his emergency thanksgiving party I looked forward to a happier day. The party was to hold in his family house very close to the Obalande slum – a popular hangout for sex workers in Kaduna.
That evening, I drove with Kelechi – my club mate – to the venue. On our way there we decided it was going to be a good idea to stop close by for a drink. We got to a bar, just adjacent the obalande main street and that was when I saw a sight I still can’t believe wasn’t a dream. My honey and fiancée-in-wait was hovering over a small but rich-looking Alhaji. The world and even the gulp of cold Heineken flowing down my throat stood still. I spitted some drink and pointed towards her like a child who just saw a ghost.
“KC...KC”, I called looking for the right word.
“What’s that; why did you spit out your drink like that?” He asked embarrassed. I didn’t have to answer that as he followed my fingers and as his eyes settled on the target; he dropped his glass so had the owner of the bar had to shout
“Make una no Break my cup oh!”
“Williams, isn’t that your Fiancée?” It was his turn to shout.
I didn’t have an answer to his question; I stood up and walked towards the two. My honey was three-quarter necked and she clang to the Alhaji as though if he left her for her peers, she would drop dead that night.
KC called on me to come back, but that was what I thought he was saying; I couldn’t even hear the flow of my breath. I didn’t even know what I was going to do when I met the two. Few steps before them, she turned and the fear in her eyes was in itself scary.
“Baby!” She shouted.
“Baby!!” I was just walking towards her and before she shouted my pet-name the third time, she fainted. The Alhaji slipped into his Xj jaguar and zoomed off. I rushed to pick her up; as I held her in my arms I knew it would be the last time to feel her soft skin. KC came to join me and we drove her back to my apartment. She was ok before we got home but we couldn’t discuss the shock. I woke up the next morning and that was when I knew it was never going to work between us. I called off the engagement; I called it quit.
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