Not a playsuit...

Esther Quek. Photo courtesy of Tommy Ton

I came across this photo today and I am inspired. Her look is so fresh and different and even though I promised myself not to run out and buy anything, I have been (window) shopping... ☺

Whimsy

The other Saturday night I stayed home and ironed my sheets.

The pillowcases too.

I ironed my 600 thread count sheets, spent a good amount of time making my bed perfectly, climbed into bed and watched a DVR'd Rom-Coms until I fell asleep. But that's not the sad part. What's sad is that I did not realize how sad it was until I was at brunch the next day and got asked what I did on Saturday.

It's not like I'm big on night life in the first place, and I do have my moments when I just want to lay back and do nothing all weekend. But I cannot remember a time when I was so comfortable being away from people and so content with it. When I allow myself to think I about it I worry that something is wrong.

Maybe it is, maybe it's not.

Champagne Nights, Cocaine Mornings

Whenever I'm working a late night or over a rare weekend, I get lots of sympathetic messages from my friends and family. I can tell they worry about me. "Where do you get time to live, to do stuff?" "How will you meet guys?" "How will you maintain your relationship?" "Will you ever marry???????" And etc...

Sometimes I think about it too. And even I wonder why I do it.

What do I really do anyway?

A few months ago, we took on a new, interesting client. The story starts in Hollywood...

When studios, actors, directors, producers, writers and everyone else come together to make movies, they expect to make a lot of money on it at the box office, and then even more when your favorite stations show them over and over and over again. When they make TV shows, they hope to get into syndication and stay on your television for as long as possible. This means lots of checks for everyone for a long time to come. But people in Hollywood do not like to wait for their money. There are multi-bathroom homes in Bel Air to buy and upgrade, personal trainers and personal shoppers to pay and new diets and religions to explore. So enter our clients. They go out and raise a ton of money from people who want to send their money on a growing mission, and then they buy the rights to these movies and shows from anyone who wants to sell so Hollywood can get her money now when she wants it. And then they take the monthly checks for years to come.

My job is to help my team prepare documents and information to convince investors that the client is someone they can trust with their investment. We have to understand what they do, investigate the team and their performance, analyze the industry, be satisfied that they can reproduce the great returns they have been showing in past investments and then guide investors to the same conclusion. Investors are pension plans, insurance companies, banks, rich people, any "qualified individual" by SEC laws that has a checkbook that we can tap.

Our investors are all over the world, so every second of every day, one of them is awake at their desk, doing diligence on our client and needing answers to a pressing question. They can ask at 7am New York time, or 7am in Singapore which is almost bedtime in New York. Or they could be working on Sunday, the first day of the week in the Middle East. And what our clients pay us for is to have the information needed out of the door as soon as possible.

Which is why I have no control over my work hours.

And when we are not working for our clients, we are out meeting new clients. Managers whose funds own companies like Burlington Coat Factory, Mary Kay, Neiman Marcus and much more, and seeing how we can work together to raise the next set of funds so they can go out and do what they do best. And add that to other things that pop up, and 24 hours may not be enough for a day.

So why do I do it?

To be honest I think my job picked me. In college I was bored out of my mind. It wasn't that all my courses were easy all the time, but there wasn't a lot that gave me sleepless nights or challenged me to knuckle-gripping determination. And from the first day I knew I needed a job that would push me in every way, and this seemed interesting. Plus the people who work in investment banking are really, really, really interesting people.

For a self-proclaimed introvert, I truly enjoy people. I like meeting people, exploring their minds, and all that stuff. My job exposes me to so many different personalities from day to day and no matter how frustrating and tiring the hours get sometimes, the people I work with make it fun and that all makes it bearable. Today, my work husband (the Russian one. I also have an Argentinian work boyfriend, and an American work crush) went back to Texas after a 2-day training session for all first-year analysts in New York. As we always do, we started out with drinks at the work-sponsored happy hour session and then went out into the world. By 2am yesterday, we had been to about 4 bars and I had become a huge fan of Sake (first time ever. The Japs are killing with that one, by the way). And we were just getting started. Somehow we all made it home eventually and managed to get back to the office for training at 8am today, all mostly drunk but pretty much alive. Usually, regular night life for us is on a slightly smaller scale, but you get the general idea.

Besides all the fun and really great intellectual stimulation I get at work, the perks are pretty ok too. Compensation is nice, the occasional box seats at concerts and games make up for some dreadful weeks, and when I'm really down in the dumps about missing a date or a party, I remind myself that it only gets better from here and it won't last forever. :)

The Anatomy of a Breakup

The word hit me like a good dousing of ice cold water. I groped for a seat at the breakfast table, the rest of the note forgotten.

Divorce.

We haven't even been married 3 years, I thought with sudden panic. Ironically today marks the 7th year we have been together a couple. We have not been 'together' in a long time, I mused, a dull ache in my chest.

My phone vibrates over and over. "PING!!!" "PING!!!" It must be Bade again. We were in the middle of making plans for tonight, I remember typing up a message to him as I bounded up the steps to our apartment and sauntered in to meet the note in the center of our breakfast table, the note that has shattered my world. The thought of partying it up with the guys is the furthest thing from my mind. The Lagos scene that I enjoy so much, the boys, the ladies, the endless teasing about my married status, is worlds away. "His name is look but don't touch", my friends would tease when they introduced me to girls. That was me, the faithful married guy.

Except for that one time with Tolani...

Every time I think about those months with her I cringe inside, the shame threatens to overwhelm me. I went from the man who was in control and proud of himself to a despicable, lying, cheating bastard, the exact words my mother would use to describe my father. The lies I told my wife and friends were flimsy at best, my actions utterly shameful. It was like an animal I never knew existed inside of me was let loose. Even now, I try to make sense of my actions then and I come up short: I had only been married about a year. And while we had the little issues married people are bound to have, the sex was still amazing, and amazingly constant. She wasn't nagging, she wasn't uninteresting, she was still the hottest girl I knew. But somehow, a teasing smile from the girl at the other table at a business lunch became a secret that I hope to take to my grave.

 Divorce.

The end of our marriage. Telling the world that we could not love and cherish forever like we promised. And God. I don't kid myself or pretend to be more spiritual than the next guy, but when I said those vows I meant them with all my heart. I never for one second thought that we would ever even consider a divorce.

More importantly, the end of our love story. Before things got so messed up she was my solace, my best friend, my treasure and the center of my world. Joyin. Every thing I did, all that I tried to achieve, was so I could lay the world at her feet because somehow I hoped it would almost measure up to all that she gives me.

We were introduced at a friend's party only eight years ago, and as soon as I met her I knew there was something about her. "Eat honey?" I had teased her in reference to the short form of her Yoruba name. "Mojoyinoluwa (I have tasted honey from God's hands)", she replied with a twinkle in her eyes, "or, in my case, Omodunjoyinlo (the girl is sweeter than honey)". She stayed on my mind from that night, but it would be many months before we would eventually form a friendship that I knew from the start was leading us to the altar.

We were the ideal couple, young, successful, ambitious and very much in love. The first snag came when the company she had worked hard for years moved operations away from Lagos to Abuja only a few months after we got married. She was offered a promotion to sweeten the offer to move but we had decided together that we did not want to spend the first year of our marriage apart. Living together and working full time was challenging enough. We decided together to remain in Lagos because I earned more, and because a move to Abuja would cost us much more in the long run. Our families and friends were in Lagos, it was where we always wanted to live and raise our kids.

However, we were both surprised at how hard it was for Joyin to find another job in her field. After months of marathon interviews and getting groped and propositioned by men she decided to start a business of her own. In those months, I got a promotion and a pay raise, and Joyin got resentful. In her frustration she went from being my biggest supporter to an indifferent observer. I could not share my achievements with her because I only reminded her of how her career was suffering. All the gifts and trips I shared with her were not enough to fill the void. She regretted giving away a promising position, and the reasons that we decided together that were more important than a career we believed was easily replaceable began to fade from her memory.

I began to stay out more, and later into the night, it was just easier being with friends who celebrated me than at home where things were 'off'. It was hard to keep up the appearance of a happy couple when we were drifting so far apart, but we did it for family and friends. And then the fights began. We fought about everything: my late nights, money even though we had enough of it, her trips out of town, making plans without the other's approval, her business she never wanted to discuss with me, her new friends who I felt were bitter and unhappy and bad news, my friends who she thought were good-for-nothing and misleading, her refusal to conceive.

That hurt me the most, and she knew it. She took the one thing I wanted as much as I wanted her and held it from me. It was true we were not ready, but she refused to make any efforts to mend our broken bridges.

So I became cruel. My words were no longer kind, my attitude became worse. I knew I became impossible to live with but I could not stop myself. Like a wounded animal I fought back emotionally, trying to hurt as much as I had been hurt. And it worked. She has been drinking, out and alone in her room. Sometimes I hear her crying through the thin walls. I have been sleeping in the guest room for weeks, and pretending that I was having the time of my life. And today she has packed her things and walked away, asking me not to come after her. We were too broken to be fixed.

I picked up my phone and keys, and I made a decision. Joyin is not just my wife, she's my best friend and my partner. I know deep down that there will never be another woman like her in my life. She understands me and for some reason she likes me in spite of me and she has loved me and stayed by me for many years. The past years have been hard on both of us, but if I let her slip away without fighting I  could not live with myself. I need to make her happy again, like I promised 7 years ago, and love her like I vowed, in spite of everything.

If I can just keep the one secret that will surely end us...

Walking in Bigger Shoes

When my dad opened his Facebook account a few months ago and joined my list of friends I jokingly tweeted that I should have blocked him before he found my very well-hidden account. Afterwards, there were jokes here and there about the funny things he said or did. But eventually, we (I) found a good rhythm that worked for both of us: I hardly ever interact with him on there, and when I post a picture/album/anything that I know will pique his curiosity I just make sure I exclude him from friends who are able to see it. It works pretty well (you all should try those customized settings). Anyway, I was a bit surprised when he asked me a few days ago why I am always on Facebook. Ok, not surprised, seriously exasperated.

Sidebar: Those who knew me on Facebook when Facebook was IT would probably laugh at that. These days I log in to check birthdays, respond to messages, report spam, decline Farmville invites, decline friend requests from people I don't personally know, unfriend people who invite me to parties 3 times in a row, and ocassionaly post a photo or two to show I'm still alive. Twitter, now that is a different story.

Back to dad, I was a little bit irritated that he was bugging me again. But this time, I thought about it differently...

If life works out the way I have pretended not to have planned it, when I am about 50 like my dad is I will have my own two children in their mid-to-late teens with a loving husband by my side. But I am sensible enough to know that life does not always work out the way we plan it or wish it would. Whatever the situation I am in when that time comes, I know for a fact that I would want my children to share my life with me. But more importantly, I would want, more than anything in the world, to share their lives with them and be a part of their adult lives.

Many of us are not from homes where both parents are alive, or even together, and lately I have been thinking about those parents and how they get by. I know they have their friends, but having only been in the rat race of having a career and corporate living for seven long months, I can only imagine just how few and far between those interactions with even the closest friends are. As young as I am, I have become just a tiny bit jaded about many of my friendships, and I imagine it probably gets worse as we all get older. In the end, we all will most likely turn to our children too...

Once when I was complaining about my dad and his MANY MANY MANY MANY OH MY GOD MANY questions on BBM a friend asked me to be nice, to think about the reason every parent is suddenly using our methods of communication. Picture this: half the time you are in the same room as your parents you are on that thing (as they all call it), you're smiling at it, maybe even laughing at it, and you never ever seem to put it down. For most parents I know, they are now on those things because they know it is the way to get to their kids, and maybe get us to smile at them like that. Lord knows I can't remember the last time I called my dad just to say hi. I even get annoyed when he calls me at odd hours of the day, selfishly ignoring the 6-hour time difference that makes it difficult for him as well.

I have often said to my friends when they quarrel with or complain about their mothers that I would give anything in the world, and I mean anything, to have my mother here today. But in the same way, I am guilty of taking my dad for granted even though I know many who would give anything to spend just one day with their father (or even just to know who he is)...

In the spirit of this season of (commercial) Love, I am making a promise to my first superhero, my Number One man (for now)...

Daddy, if you are reading this (and I know you are) here a few things I would like to say to you:

1) Go to Facebook> Account Settings> Notifications> and disable those email notifications. I am not as active as I would like to be on Facebook, you should see my Twitter (you never will though. I made sure) but no one receives email notifications on Facebook anymore because then we would all go crazy and Yahoo would shut down from the traffic.

2) For the 60-plus years that we have left together on earth, I promise to not only be a great daughter, but to be your friend. Your best friend, if possible. You are a pretty cool dude and it would be an honor to get to know you as a friend and share (most parts of) my life with you as well. Maybe even get you to start drinking... ☺

Just one condition: Please do not ever ask me if I'm "Painting the town red" on a Friday night. Only old people say that ☺

I love you Daddy.

To the rest of you, please be kind to your parents.

Paix et amour ♥

Dont forget to check out my personal (daily) journal