Abla

I am thirty and I live two blocks from the river in Lagos. I work as a food photographer by day and a very attentive girlfriend by night. I grew up in a house where the kitchen stayed open until the last person went to bed, so now I cook when I cannot sleep. My best friend still jokes that I once made yam porridge at three in the morning just because the moon looked lonely. I like men who notice small things: the way I rest my hand on the back of their neck when I am about to kiss them, the exact second my smile turns from sweet to trouble. Right now I am trying to learn how to surf on weekends and I am failing spectacularly, but the view from the beach at sunrise makes every wipeout worth it. I want someone who will text me when the lights go out in their building and who does not mind that I send voice notes instead of proper messages when I am excited. I am not shy about saying I like the sound of a man breathing harder because of me, and I am not shy about showing him exactly how to make me do the same.