Nearly all the men in Lagos are mad - Damilare Kuku

A quirky short story collection. Very much appealing to someone who like stories about women and relationships. It gave me some feels of Sex and the city - Lagos version but it was a fresh take with much diversity. Also there were solid friendships but no recurring quad set. 

I liked how the author explore the echelons of the high society and urban landscape of Lagos. A milieu of men and women exploring love, sex and romance. Many failed relationships and heart breaks and the ultimate search for the One. People are a complex set of emotions and mostly lost. Infidelities, spineless lovers, polygamy, rape, gay rights, concubines, money games, vengeful wives, the girl friend drama, international match making, the first and last loves. 

To give you a glimpse of the madness here are opening lines of the first story of the book - One night, you will calmly put a knife to your husband’s penis and promise to cut it off.

Well this is just the trailer, the stories get hotter, intense and shocking as we proceed. The zest and courage of women in these stories is truly inspiring. I wish for more brave women who dared to love and believe in themselves. Love means a lot but nothing without Trust and Respect. 

To all the mad men and even madder women, everywhere and anywhere. Love stories will always be interesting with a bit of everything - sex, romance, games, dance, song and crazy. If you didn’t have one like this then it’s hardly a story worth telling. 

Encore on the lines:

The standard Lagos-Man package comes with lying, cheating, and occasional scamming; alongside stylish kaftans, splashes of Sauvage or Ouds, and fake accents.

In this life you have to hustle for your orgasms. This is me hustling for as many orgasms as I can collect. Tonight, I die here.

She always had the gift of cutting through the bullshit. A gift you hated and loved.

Besides, I’m old and I’ve earned the right to say whatever I want.

He’d send pictures of different sexual positions he wanted us to try. I kept thinking, No, we mustn’t try everything in the catalogue. I don’t want to strain my joints to climax. And no, I can’t twerk on your dick. I’ve got weak knees. Sex should be jeje, easy.

I would also prefer my oyibo to be ugly or at least plain looking. I want him to be grateful for dating me. I’m not really sure why I want this—maybe it’s my vanity or the trauma of the infidelities