NO LOVE IN LASGIDI

My name is Halima. In this city of Lagos, my name carries weight, but my heart feels as light as a dried leaf blowing across the Third Mainland Bridge. I am twenty-six years old, the prime age where a Nigerian mother starts looking at your womb like it’s a ticking time bomb. I am the only daughter of Alhaji and Alhaja Adeniyi, names that open doors in high places and get us the best seats at every party from Ikoyi to Victoria Island. We have money, the kind of money that smells like expensive perfume and clean laundry even when the humidity in Lagos is trying to choke everyone else. I grew up with drivers, cooks, and a silver spoon that sometimes felt like it was gagging me. I am tall, dark-skinned, and I carry my body with the kind of grace that makes people stop and stare. My hair is always laid, my nails are always done, and my clothes are straight from the boutiques in London and Dubai. To the world, I am the girl who has everything. But if you look closely at my eyes when the camera flash isn't hitting them, you will see a girl who is tired. I am tired of the Lagos game. I am tired of the lies told in tinted SUVs. My family is the definition of "A-list." My father is a man of few words and many properties. He believes that everything has a price and a proper place. To him, I am a project that is nearly finished. The final step is a wedding. Not just any wedding, but a merger of two powerful families. My mother is even worse. She spends her days at gold markets and lace shops, picking out fabrics for a marriage that doesn't even have a groom yet. Every morning, she enters my room without knocking, her wrapper tied tight, asking me if I’ve spoken to "that Senator’s son" or "that young CEO" she met at the last wedding. They don’t want a man who loves me, they want a man who matches the decor of our living room. But let’s talk about my relationship life, or what I like to call my "History of Shege". In Lagos, love is a business, and I have been bankrupted too many times. My relationship life has been one long, loud "Shege." I have dated the "Rich Boys" who think their father’s money gives them the right to treat women like dirt. I have dated the "Good Boys" who turned out to be the biggest liars of them all. My heart has been broken so many times that I’ve started to lose count. Each time it happens, I cry until my eyes are swollen, but the next morning, I still have to put on my makeup and pretend I am fine. My parents don't help. Every Sunday brunch is a lecture. My father will look at me over his newspaper and ask when I am going to bring a "serious" man home. My mother will show me photos of sons of her friends, men with big degrees and bigger egos, telling me that I am getting old. They don't ask if I am happy. They don't ask if I am lonely. They just want a wedding that will be the talk of the town for three months or more. The pressure is starting to make me do things I never thought I would do. Lately, I’ve stopped looking for "the one." I am tired of the interviews, the fake dates, and the lies. Now, I just want to feel something, anything. I’ve started going out more, meeting men I would never usually talk to, and just letting things happen. I am having s*x with men I don't even like, just to fill the silence in my soul. I cry after they leave, but then I do it again the next weekend. It’s a cycle I can’t seem to break. I feel like a stranger in my own life. I live in a mansion, but I don't feel at home. I have thousands of followers on social media, but I don't have anyone I can really talk to. I am Halima, the girl who has everything, but the one thing I actually want, someone to love me for me, not for my father’s name, feels like it’s a million miles away. In this city, everyone is hustling for something. Some are hustling for money, some for fame, and some for power. Me? I’m just hustling for a reason to stop crying every night. I am Halima, and this is my life in Lasgidi. It looks perfect from the outside, but inside, the engine is smoking and I don't know how to fix it. I’m standing at the edge of something, and I don’t know if I’m about to fly or fall. All I know is that I can’t keep living like this. Lagos is a wild beast, and right now, it feels like it’s eating me alive. I am ready for a change, even if I don’t know what that change looks like yet. I just want peace. I just want to be Halima, not the "Alhaji Adebiyi's Daughter." But in Lagos, you are always someone’s something. And I am tired of being a "something." I'm the only daughter. Then there is Hassan Adebiyi, my twenty-three-year-old brother. Unlike me, Hassan is the family’s golden boy who can do no wrong. He works as a high-flying investment trader, making millions before lunch. His life is smooth, he is currently dating a sweet girl from another wealthy family, and my parents already adore her. Lagos is a wild ocean, and I'm tired of just treading water. I am ready to dive in, even if the current takes me somewhere dangerous. I am Halima, and this is my reality.