My name is Vivian Ovigwe Emuakpor. Yep, I am a complete Urhobo babe with the juice and all.

I work in one of the top advertising agencies in Lagos as a Marketing Manager. That’s one position I literally worked my butt off to attain.

I live in a plush apartment in Lekki, drive a 2016 Ford Escape and I am a big girl in every sense of the word even if I do say so myself. I’ve got curves where they matter and I must say, God really does love me. I’m 35 and I finally have everything I’ve ever wanted.

Being Vivian is a weekly series that will run on Bounce News

Except, a man of my own. Which I really don’t care about, but everyone seems to think I’m miserable because of that.

Like seriously, with all of my achievements! And no, I am not a lesbian nor am I bisexual. I’m just enjoying my independence and I wish everyone would just back off and stop harping at me about getting a man.

Na by force?

Imagine my mom telling me the other weekend when I went home to see everyone, that I need to be humble if I want any man to take me seriously.

“Humble? As how now?” I asked her in mild confusion.

“Ehn, all this your big car and flashy house will make some men think you have one old man somewhere financing your lifestyle,” she replied as she added more spice to the banga soup she was cooking.

“Mommy abeg. Am I not working? What kind of man would think such rubbish?”

“Well, me I’m just telling you that you need to tone down your flashy lifestyle small small,” she said adamantly.

“Which one is all this ‘flashy’ sef?” I muttered impatiently.

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She turned to face me, her expression stormy. “Look here, young woman. You are not getting any younger. Florence your younger sister is already married and expecting her first child. Your baby sister, Esther is already in a relationship that might lead to marriage when she graduates from the university. 

“But you, their elder sister has refused to settle down and start your own family. And I am here trying to tell you how to fix that, and you’re arguing with me.”

I sighed. “I am not arguing with you. I’m just tired of hearing this same talk each time I come home. It’s exhausting.”

“I don’t understand why there’s so much talking in that kitchen and the food is still not coming out!” My father yelled from the living room.

“It’s almost ready o!” Mom yells back. To me she said, “We will continue this conversation later. Oya, come and help me serve your father his food before he enters here with a cutlass to slice our mouths off.”

“So this is what you want me to get married and be doing every day abi? I'd rather serve myself abeg.”

“Mm… The way that your ashawo friend, Esohe, is serving herself to different men up and down” my mother retorted.

I was too stunned to reply. 

As if on cue, my phone rang and it turned out to be the devil herself.

I answered the call. “Hello.”

“Babe,” Esohe breathed into the phone. “Abeg I need your help o. Kasala don burst for my head. Na where you dey?”  


** To be continued in episode 2 **