Hello, friends!
My name is Awelewa Daisi and I love to TALK! In fact, I think it was inborn, because the custodians of history a.k.a. my grandma (who calls me Atawewe), my mother and my two-year-older sister (who likes to form big sis.) told me I had been a talker from the day I popped out of my mum’s belly. Okay, I did not literally pop out, but anyways I came talking.
I also love to write! I write about anything that comes to my mind, especially the drama going on in my life, a reason for the two-year-old journal sitting on my laps as I lounged on the couch in my bedroom.
My heart is full of joy today and I am very excited that I find it hard to do anything, so I have decided to indulge myself this weekend and just rest.
Because guess what? By this time next week, I would be married! Yes, I am leaving spinsterhood forever and moving up to join the club of the married. Somebody say yaay!
I knew this day would come, which was why I decided to record my journey as a spinster in the last two years, when I rented a three-bedroom apartment in Ashi, Ibadan with my two closest friends and began to live on my own. I did it to preserve the memories—some very sweet, some not so sweet and some out rightly bitter. However, through it all, joy came to stay.
I know a part of me is going to miss being single. Nevertheless, I am going to love being married, because of the man I am marrying. *winks*
Well, I have decided to share these memories with you to celebrate this unspeakable joy in my heart, with the hope and prayer that you take something away with you—something that will make you laugh, ponder and make better decisions.
I hope you will stay with me until the end.
Enjoy!
And the Journey from 2013 begins…

I am Awelewa Daisi, a beautiful twenty-six-year-old single woman, customer service officer at a reputable bank, living with two weird girls (well, I think only one of them is actually really weird) in a brand-new three-bedroom apartment we were favoured to rent at a surprisingly affordable price in an area like Ashi-Bodija, and my most prized possessions are my Bible and my car (because I just bought it some weeks ago).
I was not being vain when I said I was beautiful. Many of my friends, male and female, usually affirm it. Why else do you think my mama named me Awelewa (the one with multiple beauties)?
And yes, I am still single at twenty-six—a status many have come to associate with desperation, pity, raised eyebrows, shaking of head and many other negativity—but I am not bothered anymore.
You are asking me, “Did you just say it doesn’t bother you anymore?”
Yes, I said no more because it used to bother me a lot, especially when my close friends and classmates from school began to get married immediately after Youth Service, have babies and post their happy moments on Facebook and Instagram.
It bothered me because that was the time the brother I was engaged to decided he had seen another lady more spiritual than I was, and who would fit properly by his side when he becomes a minister. This was someone I had courted for two years after serious prayers and conviction from both sides!
I had wondered for months after the break up about the time I had gotten less spiritual in the course of our relationship. For Christ’s sake, I was the prayer secretary of my departmental Christian association then and if not anything, that position had made me more serious about my walk with God.
It bothered me when Lara, my once-very-close friend stated in an offhand manner, “You are not married, you don’t understand my situation,” when I asked why she did not pick or return my calls anymore.
It bothered me when my mum would subtly ask, “Awelewa, are you bringing a male friend to our Christmas party this year? Your younger sister said we should be expecting her male guest o!”
She would say it with a smile on her face that suggested she was teasing me. However, beneath that smile was a curiosity short of anxiety about the fact that I was getting close to the big three-zero and I had not ever told her to expect any male guest for our festive gatherings.
It bothered me when I saw Sara, my closest friend and flat mate settle for less in the name of relationship.
“Babe, I don’t want to ever enter grace mode, it’s not a pleasant condition. A man in hand is worth thousands in the streets,” she would say.
‘Grace mode’ is a state when a lady is no longer hot stuff in the marriage market, biological clock is ticking like crazy, ready to make its way home and it will only take the special grace of God for Prince Charming to locate such a lady in time.
I told Sara no woman ever wants to enter ‘grace mode’ either.
Being single bothered me when some months after my break up, two guys approached me separately—one with alcohol stench living in his breath and the other with a cup overflowing with male ego and pride…“Awe, I’m a guy and you are a girl. When I’m talking, you don’t talk.”
Please, don’t get this twisted, both went to church and were workers in different units.
That was what made me have a long talk with myself and I came to this conclusion—it is better for me to marry late than for me to marry wrong. Better is the end of a thing than the beginning thereof and patience is better than pride.
This patience brought my darling into my life, and right now, we are really taking our time to know each other with marriage in view. I am not going to rush into anything in life, especially marriage.
The plans of God for me are good and not evil to give me a better end. I don’t see the end now but I desire to be happily married and when you hope for something like that, you have to wait for it with patience.
So that when it’s my time to post my family pictures on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and whatever social media platform happens to arise at that time, I will do so with a genuine smile and joy in my heart.
I hate the concept of suffering and smiling.
…to be continued.