If you skimmed the earlier entry, please understand that I did not say that Nigerians have the monopoly on cheating, nor did I say that a Nigerian man will definitely cheat. The entry is about cheating among Nigerians because I’m Nigerian, and it was a fellow blogger who stated that in her opinion, Nigerian men will cheat, that’s it’s only a matter of time.

Also, talking about cheating doesn’t mean I’m wishing it upon myself or saying it will happen; it’s a topic that I think couples should discuss, not in a “when you cheat” way as if it’s inevitable, but in a “Let’s make sure we’re clear on what our views on infidelity are, what we consider infidelity and how we will prevent such a thing from touching our marriage.” In a perfect world these things would be intuitively understood, but this world is far from perfect. Talking once or twice about scenarios that you hope never happen isn’t a bad thing in my opinion; bringing it up constantly is another matter.

Themes that came out from your comments:

Society allows Nigerian men to cheat
This is a comment that came up over and over again. Society and what it considers acceptable is a huge part of why cheating is so rampant. Many commenters think Nigerian men cheat because they are taught it’s their right, that they can get away with it, while women were (are?) taught to forgive and remain in the relationship if the man cheats, especially, as taynement mentioned, when the woman is financially dependent on the man.

Sting mentioned polygamy. The polygamous histories of many families (both of my grandfathers had two wives each, for example) doesn’t help: men were (are?) brought up to think that they can be with more than one woman at a time without feeling guilty, and without having to explain themselves.

An anonymous commenter mentioned a double standard: while Nigerian women who are cheated on were (are?) generally told to remain in relationship by family and friends, if the woman is the unfaithful one, the treatment she would receive from her own family, not to mention the larger community, would be quite different: she would be called all sorts of unflattering names and ridiculed, and her husband would not be expected to take her back following her betrayal.

But for every man who thinks cheating is not a big deal, there are men like NBB who make declarations such as “I’m Nigerian Man. I do not cheat and would never cheat. so help me God.”

Generational differences in responses to cheating
As commenters Eniola and Angel007 mentioned, it seems the older generation (our mothers and grandmothers) are more willing to turn the other cheek when it comes to cheating than the younger generation, and while part of me bristles at the thought, I can accept that their approach for a man who cheats only once may make sense. The problem is that I don’t believe a man can cheat “just once”!

I was happy to discover that many of the commenters considered cheating a deal breaker too, though as sting said, who knows if it would remain a deal breaker in reality. We may talk a good game but when push comes to shove, would we really kick a cheater out of our lives for good? My head is screaming YES!!! Whether you know your answer to that question or not, it’s definitely food for thought.

The idea that cheating is a form of abuse and a sign of disrespect
Some commenters mentioned sexually transmitted diseases (STDs) and how wives of cheating men can end up contracting them from a man who brings the STD home. As a witty fool mentioned, it would be terrible to get an STD, but imagine having to deal with an incurable STD like genital herpes, or an STD that will reduce your life expectancy, such as HIV? It would add insult to injury! I had not discussed the issue but it doesn’t take much thinking to realize that this is a huge fallout from cheating. There’s the betrayal inherent in the act, but when you add the chance that one could physically suffer for the rest of their life because of the cheater’s acts? Well, let’s not think about it!

There are worse things than cheating
I believe those sharing this opinion are trying to say that infidelity might not be the big deal I have made it because a marriage without infidelity does not automatically mean a good marriage, a loving marriage, a healthy marriage or a solid marriage. I definitely agree, but the entry was about infidelity. Also, I don’t think anyone should feel they must accept infidelity in their marriage because “It could be worse!” How about we take a stand and make sure it’s clear that in addition to infidelity, there are other things that are unacceptable in our marriages?

Not all men cheat
To end on a positive note, not all Nigerian men will cheat, and that’s good news. Many of the married women and some of the unmarried women stated that (with God’s help) their marriage will not be touched by infidelity, and I truly believe that if both of the people in the relationship are committed to the mindset that cheating is not an option, it will not happen. Again, I may be naive.

Chichi made a point that there are usually steps leading to the cheating act(s), and because of that, couples must invest time in their relationship and protect the relationship. Does this mean that a person bent on cheating can be stopped from cheating? No, but we all owe it to our relationships to work with our partner to make it as strong as possible. No one, in my opinion, has the right to cheat.

• you don’t often hear the opposite being articulated (men abstaining from sex for their future wives)
• most of the guys saying this are lying through their teeth because if they were actually dating one of these women who wanted to save sex for marriage, they either wouldn’t be able to date her longer than a few days weeks months because not having sex is a deal breaker for them, or they’d try to use their “persuasive powers” to change the girl’s view on sex out of wedlock (I don’t blame blame them and I know that a man who wants a little somethin’ somethin’ can be quite persuasive, and temptation would be a big problem. The average woman (me included) would probably be tempted to become putty in his hands).

(Am I wrong?)

(We won’t bring in the Christianity aspect since none of us who claim to be Christians can say we adhere perfectly to all parts of the bible, so I can’t say I’m “such a good Christian” for not having sex while I’m busy sinning in others ways.)

So what’s my point? Well, I may not have one. Maybe I want more guys to say what they’re really thinking on the matter, that they think waiting until marriage to have sex with a woman is something they are not prepared to do, though they admire the decision in principle. Maybe I want to hear more guys talking about abstaining (it’s possible I’m just not in contact with such guys. Ekene Agabu is the only guy I know who actually has it out there). Maybe I want to believe that it’s possible in my 30s to meet a guy who will respect my decision and honour it along with me. I’d like to think the right guy would (and not run screaming, certain that I will be a frigid woman in bed). I’d also like to deal with reality.

I don’t mind if my future boyfriend or husband has had other partners, mostly because I’m practical and if a 30 year old female who has not yet had sex is rare, the male version is even rarer. However, I will care about the number he’s sharing. If he’s in his 30s and had lost count, or passes his age when counting up his past partners, that is too many for me.

Ok, enough out of me:

1. What are your thoughts on premarital sex?
2. Is there a number of partners that you find acceptable for your future spouse to have had?
3. Will you share your number (with your partner)?
4. Are male virgins in their late 20s and beyond as rare as a solid week of constant electricity in Nigeria?

To me, the most compelling reason to change your surname is to signify that you and your spouse are a unit, one family. I like the idea of everyone in the family having the same last name, even more so if children are part of the plan. This is more an outward demonstration of the union, I suppose, since the act of taking the name of another cannot make you into a family, any more than putting on running shoes makes you into Usain Bolt.

Some arguments I’ve seen against changing your name include:

• your name (for you) is an important part of your identity (you’ve been Miss/Ms. X for 20, 30, 40 years, how can you change your name after so much of who you are has already been formed under this other name?)
• professional reasons (if you have built your career under a certain name, and have built your reputation, perhaps you’re published under a certain name — changing your name might be a setback career-wise, and may require you to re-establish yourself.)
• changing your name doesn’t magically make your marriage better or stronger so what’s the point?
• her last name is dying out (maybe she’s an only child in the immediate or extended family and she’s the only one left to carry on the family name)
• his last name is incompatible with her first name aesthetically (maybe it looks or sounds strange with her first name, or it’s far too long)

In my personal circle of contacts, I know coworkers (current and former) in their late 20s and 30s who decided to keep their surname upon marriage. Another woman in her late 40s, a family friend, also kept her surname. Two friends in their early 30s were torn about changing their name and as far as I know, neither one has legally changed her name.

I asked one former coworker what she and her husband decided to do for the last name of their children, and their solution was actually quite cool: her surname is three letters long and is Japanese in origin and its pronunciation works perfectly as either a boy or girl’s middle name, so both her daughter and son have the same middle name, which is like having the surnames of both parents. I told her that her case is the exception for women who choose to keep their surname yet want to have a way of uniting themselves with their children (who often take their father’s surname).

I don’t know any African friends or other acquaintances (I don’t have any African coworkers) who decided to keep their surname, or struggled with the decision of changing their name. Is this because African women are more traditional, and less inclined to have “offbeat” weddings? Not necessarily; I just happen to know and be closer to more non-Africans than Africans. At the same time, maybe Africans are more traditional. I say this as I remember all the elements of a traditional engagement in Yorubaland (and I know other Nigerians have specific traditions or elements in their engagement or wedding celebrations). As I watched my cousin go through the different steps, I wanted to know if certain things were specific to the Yoruba engagement ceremony, or just done in my cousin’s own engagement. It turned out most things are things I was curious about are things that are “traditionally done”.

So what will I do? As much as I love my initials, I’m pretty sure I’ll be changing my surname.

For the ladies:

1. How do you feel about changing your name (for those planning to get married)? Do you think you’ll change your name?
2. Do you think Africans are more or less likely (than non-Africans) to feel torn at the thought of changing their last name? Why/Why not?

For the men:

1. How would you react if your fiancée told you she would not be changing her surname?
2. Do you think African men are more or less likely than their non-African counterparts to have a problem with their spouse keeping her maiden name? Why/Why not?

I was pleasantly surprised: there were actually a lot of people in their 20s, and early 30s in attendance. The program was good too (and the open bar and refreshments didn’t hurt either!). The invitation said that the event was from 6:30-8:30pm, but the party kept going for a few hours after that, and there was even a live band for part of it. If this is a sign of what is to come under the new high commissioner, I won’t complain one bit, and I won’t miss an event!

For some of the night, I observed how Nigerian men behave when faced with a lovely woman. The lovely woman in question was my friend, and I introduced her to two (male) family friends. Both guys are professionals, and perhaps that was part of it, but to me they came across as confident and pretty direct guys, which I was happy to see. One told her he had noticed her from the time she entered the room (and she told me later that she had noticed him noticing her), while the other made it clear that he wanted to dance with her, and he did. I wonder if they would have made the first move and gone up to her if they had not been introduced. Or, perhaps, they were on their way to do just that when I got in between them. Anyway, I was impressed the confident and self assured manner of the guys, and the fact that they didn’t seem to be fronting. I’m sure that they will be able to find nice women to settle down with when the time is right.

As I watched the women in the room, I noticed a confidence in them too that I lacked. These women appeared comfortable in their own skin and behaved like they felt they looked their best and were worthy of attention (in a good way). What a contrast to me! I am very self conscious and awkward around guys my age, and perhaps as a result, in social events I think guys automatically dismiss me as a potential anything other than the friend of the girl they are interested in. It’s a role I’m used to and comfortable in, but I would like to move beyond that.

Although I didn’t mind introducing my friend to guys I knew (after I got over forgetting their names—they’re twins sha, and I couldn’t remember which one was older), I gave her a “deer caught in the headlights” look at the prospect of her doing the same for me. I seriously think that step 1 to being a good Nigerian woman is to have confidence in myself or if I don’t, find a way to fake it.

My scalp. It gets burned. Every time.

Yes, I once made the rookie mistake of booking a hair appointment first thing in the morning, right after I had showered for the day, and the resulting pain around my hairline was understandable and almost unbearable. But even when I make my appointment for the evening, I still get burned badly. My scalp scabs and I have this compulsion where I must pick.my.scabs. I don’t even know how it happens, I just do. I have plenty of scars to show for it.

I take all the proper precautions yet still I suffer: I make sure I haven’t washed my hair for days (usually at least three) before my appointment, even though going that long without washing makes me crazy and paranoid because I’m sure my hair smells and I avoid standing in front of people and anywhere where a breeze might waft some unpleasant odour from my hair towards an unsuspecting person. I make sure my hair is dry and not the least bit wet. Sometimes I add some extra grease to my hairline the night before my appointment for protection’s sake (but admittedly, I’m not diligent about this). I’m not a fan of those petroleum-based hair products because I want my hair to be touchable but perhaps that’s the secret? My sister has been relaxing her hair for as long as I have and she rarely gets burned (and she loves her grease). Sometimes I request a gentler relaxer (but then my hair doesn’t get fully relaxed). I can’t win!

I don’t hear anyone else complaining about scabs or burning on their scalp but is that just because you’ve accepted that one must suffer for beauty and you guys suffer silently while I whine and behave like a three-year-old?

I’ve already determined that I can never shave my head because all the currently hidden scars would scare passersby-woe is me!

Anyways, I don’t want to give the impression that the alternative was bad, because it wasn’t. It was just different. For the most part my friends have been oyinbos, with a few visible minorities from countries in Asia, and a friend from Jamaica. In grade school my closest friends were oyinbo, and for the first part of highschool, I hung out with oyinbos too. They were born and raised in Canada, and their parents and grandparents were too. But then I became closer to some girls who were oyinbo but had emigrated from Europe to Canada in recent years and we found we had a lot in common and could even share stories of our parents’ belief in corporal punishment at least in our early years. It was nice to have friend who understood what it meant to know you were going to have to work to pay your own way through university, who wouldn’t say “Can’t you ask your parents for money?” when you tell them that you don’t have money to do this or that activity, who knew that you wouldn’t be getting a car for your 16th, 18th or 21st birthday, and understood that you might not be able to just hang out at the mall after school because you might have to go home and babysit your siblings for an hour or so, or that you actually want to chip in financially with the family when you can because you know what your parents are going through (or have gone through).

I was lucky: my close friends from highschool and I went to the same local university, so we were able to stick together and keep building our friendship, and to this day two of them are my closest friends ever, and know a whole lot about me.

While in university, I met other Nigerians: not very many, but there were at least three or four in my classes. I had a crush on one guy, Chibuzo, who I had a habit of running into only when I was dressed like crap but that’s a story for another day. I met one girl in particular, let’s call her Nike, who I knew was a fellow Nigerian (and she knew the same of me) but we both had our own group of friends and really didn’t connect enough to exchange more than the usual pleasantries.

I would later find out that we have a very similar family life and that our parents are friends, and we eventually started to run into each other at Nigerian parties. Since we’ve finished university, we’ve tried to get closer and gone out for dinner a few times, but we both have our busy and conflicting schedules, not to mention our longtime friendships with our non-Nigerian friends that take precedence.

In the last few years, I’ve wanted to become closer friends with Nigerians, but when you are trying to make friends when you’re older, it can be harder, since most people have established groups of friends. I have been lucky in the last year to meet some bloggers who I know I’d love to hang out with in person and gist with, but most of them live far away. Don’t cry for me though: I have met one really cool Naija girl right here in my city (not a blogger but she reads blogs) and now we hang out and are good friends (at least from my side sha).

What are your friends like? Are they from all over the world? Mostly Nigerian? Mostly non-Nigerian? A mix? Share!

I’m generalizing again, but I know a lot of Nigerian women who are proud of their bodies: big or small, stick thin with no breasts or voluptuous with gravity-defying cleavage, I have talked to women who like their bodies.

How have I determined that they like their bodies? Well, they dress in ways that highlight their (best) features, they spend a lot of time doing things to ensure their body looks its best, from getting their hair “did”, keeping the eyebrows groomed, refusing to leave the house without makeup, dressing in clothing that is sharp…you get the idea.

And then there’s me: I dress like a 40 year old woman whose primary goal is to hover in the background and who wears clothing because she lives in a country where the cold will kill you if you don’t dress for it. My criteria for buying an article of clothing is: does it fit? and does it cover up my cleavage/flabby arms/stomach? When I was younger I spent time searching for the perfect fitting jeans (do they exist?) and I used to dream of wearing shoes that combine sexy and comfort, but my feet are size 11 and wide so with the exception of Payless Shoes, I’m generally out of luck when it comes to wearing sexy shoes. I shouldn’t even confess this but I have worn my father’s winter boots out because they were comfortable!

(I know, call Stacy and Clinton already!)

All of that to say that I dress like someone who just doesn’t care. Admittedly, there aren’t many shops in my area that make stylish clothing and cater to plus size women but I could at least try, right?

So, I resolve to care. I resolve to put all those accessories I can’t stop buying—hair bands, earrings, rings, necklaces—to good use. I resolve to wear the minimum in makeup—mascara or lip gloss at the very least—every day. I resolve to select my clothing the night before to avoid looking like I threw something together five minutes before I have to leave the house (which is in fact what I do). I should get fitted for a bra. I resolve to get some pants that fit well and don’t just look baggy.

And shoes! God knows how much I need shoes that aren’t mens hiking boots (blame the winter o! I have nice warmer weather shoes.)

What else must a stylish Naija girl have at her disposal? This is your chance to help out the fashionably challenged!

First off, I am using the idea of what makes someone “good” or “bad” somewhat tongue-in-cheek. How convenient that I seem to have the qualities of the good Nigerian girl while qualities that I don’t have get put in the “bad” category!

What I know of the “bad” Nigerian women is exactly what I’ve said. I only see them at social events and what I see is the dressing that seems to lowcut (tops or dresses) and highcut (skirts or dresses) to me, and they generally have on far too much makeup. I hear the loud voices and have made the assumption that the reason for it is the desire to attract attention. I myself am loud when I’m with friends, and perhaps I only notice these loud girls because I don’t usually have a bunch of friends at these events to be loud with.

I don’t really talk to these girls, so I don’t know anything about who they are as people. Perhaps they are quieter when they are not at a party, maybe they don’t view their clothing the same way I view it and they think the way I dress is ultra conservative and boring.

I could learn a number of things from the “bad” girls too: how to be confident, how to have a sense of adventure and relax, and how (to appear) not to care what others think of your actions. In the right doses, these are all great things to learn.

When I said that I tend to gravitate toward quieter women who are smart and elegant, the implication is not that “bad” girls aren’t smart, just that when I see them at a party, their intelligence is not the first thing that comes to mind—I’m usually focused on how they manage to keep their top up without it falling off, or wondering how they can avoid flashing their butts in something so short. I am basing my judgment on their appearance alone, and not on the whole package, something a good girl wouldn’t do.

The ones who:

• wear a ton of makeup
• have bubble butts
• are super skinny or super curvy with minimal body fat
• talk “Black” (African Americans)
• have men chasing them from day one
• have had a sexual partner or twothree, and discuss sexual activities a bit too freely
• dress in low cut tops and high cut skirts, pants and bottoms
• wear high heels confidently
• are really loud at events so you know they’re there

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying that I’m not loud when I’m with friends, but these girls are almost obnoxiously so. They seem to think that every social event revolves around them. When they are on the dancefloor, they aren’t dancing because they love the song or the act of dancing, but because they’re trying to impress someone. I love makeup as much as the next girl but when their faces look like masks, that’s a bit too much for me. And hey, I’d love to have more of a bubble butt, and less of the body fat, so those aren’t all bad things.

The Nigerian girls that I am friends with are generally quieter women who I admire because of their smarts, their personalities or their elegance/sense of style. These women don’t have to do anything to attract males but at social events: the men always want to get to know them. That’s the group I want to identify with.