Darling Uloma Love Letters from a Secret Admirer - Book Cover

Happy Tuesday! And while we’re at it, Happy June too!

Today, I will be sharing Episode 2 of Darling Uloma: Love Letters from a Secret Admirer, with you.  In this episode, we discover what happens when a man likes a woman, and how the woman responds to all this attention.  😀


Episode 2: When a Man Likes a Woman


12 Cupid Lane
Victoria Island, Lagos

April 17, 2017

Darling Uloma:

You wrote back!

I could just drop my pen here and say nothing else.  You actually took the time to write back.  I have been on Cloud 9 since I received your letter.  Thank you for not dismissing me, for not torturing me with silence.

You wrote back!  She wrote back!  My Darling Uloma wrote to me! Ah! There’s hope.  Hope for us.  And who can live without hope? No man.  Certainly not me.

In your letter, you asked me why I chose to write to you, rather than sit down and chat with you face-to-face.  I have a million and one reasons for this approach, but I’ll share just one with you:

Writing is personal.  It is love wrapped in words, laid bare on a paper, propelled by a pen, driven by the heart.  A letter takes effort, determination, strength of will and a decent amount of courage.  It is custom-made for the reader, i.e. you.

I wrote a letter to you, Uloma, because pushing a pen across paper, crafting words for an audience of one* is a sacrifice.  It forces the brain to concentrate on just one thing, or in your case, just one subject: Uloma.  There are no emoticons, no spell check, no auto-correct, no auto-complete, and all those fancy trappings of modern day texting that are now standard, things we take for granted.

To me, Uloma, you are worth the effort and so much more.

Writing a letter is the instrumental intro that precedes that luscious R & B song.  This letter is better than any R & B song, yes, even better than the music video.  There is no corny man dressed in satin, bare-chested, glistening with oil, with a diamond stud in one ear, and a questionable haircut.  I can do all that, be all that (yes, even glisten with oil) if you want.  We’ll get there.

But first, I will write.

And I am encouraged, knowing you will reply.

Uloma, ask yourself a simple question:

When was the last time a man wrote me a letter?

You’re racking your brain, ba?  Now, you get it.  I hope.

Uloma, it is not a lack of courage that drives me to write.  No, I have studied you, observed your character from a distance, and determined that to woo you, I must do something different.

To me, you’re not just another mgbeke, another notch on my belt, another name to add to the list of “conquered females,” so that I feel like a champion.

Uloma, you are a wife material.  100 yards of Uloma?  They don’t sell that one in the market.  When a man sees a good thing, an unusual beauty, a character that is stable, a woman he can see himself in a future with, he doesn’t just toast her like a teenage boy testing his skills on the girl selling mangoes.

No, you are different.

In short, Uloma, when a man likes a woman and sees a future with her, he pulls out his swiss army knife of wife wooing moves, and selects a special one for her.

You want to chat, Skype, Face Time, Real Time?  Darling, we’ll do all that.

But first, let’s get to know each other in this “old-fashioned” way.  So, in your next letter, tell me:

  • What’s your favorite color?
  • What’s your favorite meal?
  • How many kids do you think we’ll have?

You can answer them in any order.  I won’t take offense to your answers.  I’m a patient man.  Feel free to ask me anything you like.  Anything.  I’m an open book.

I look forward to reading your response.  Oh, more questions:

  • What do you like to do for fun?
  • What kinds of books do you like to read? Movies?
  • Where do you see yourself in a year? 5 years? 10 years?

I know this isn’t a job interview, but I’m curious to know what makes you, you.  I’ll answer these questions too, but like the gentleman I am . . . Ladies first.

Lady Uloma, you are special.  We will eventually meet, chat, hang out and do so much more, but this is the prelude.  If you really think about it, these letters are no different from chatting on social media.  Except that we have to wait longer to read each other’s replies.

I’m just warming up.  Enjoy the appetizer.  The main course is still coming.

Till next time, I remain . . .

Your Secret Admirer,

*P. S.  I’m assuming that you’re the only one reading these letters.  Please don’t pull a Bolanle on me and show it to your mother and other female members of your family.  I don’t mind if they all fall in love with me, but it’s only you I want, Uloma.  No one else.


14 Deinde Aliyu Street
Off Adeniran Ogunsanya Street
Surulere, Lagos

April 18, 2017


Who put you up to this? I feel like someone is standing in the shadows, watching this drama unfold, and having a big laugh at my expense.  Is this a joke to you?  I am not laughing.

Writing letters reeks of secondary school boy sturves.  Are you a boy or a man? If you are a man, step up and introduce yourself.  Properly.  Don’t hide behind pen and paper, crafting what you suppose are flowery, tender words to woo me.

Before you start posing questions to me, here’s a question for you:

Are you a real man?

I’ll tell you who a real man is.

A real man is bold, courageous, but not reckless.  He is focused on the object of his desire, and nothing, not even NIPOST, can stand in his way or slow him down.

A real man pursues his goal with laser focus, without wavering.  He does not let a pen speak for him because his voice has a strength of its own, a powerful force of nature.

A real man stands gidigba and approaches a woman he likes.  He does not write to her, letting the post waste valuable “wooing time” just waiting for her reply.

I’m not that type of girl.  I don’t like to waste time with frivolities, and that is what your letters are.

Before you ask what type of girl I am, let me tell you.

I am a direct person, and therefore, I want to be approached directly.  I don’t like this your corner-corner style, where you are busy concocting reasons for not turning up in person.  Are you a corner-corner love kinda guy?

If you are, abeg waka. I am not not your girl.  Your “darling” is waiting for you at the next bus-stop.

In fact, I’m beginning to suspect you, seriously.  I hope you’re not that obioma who comes to our street every Monday and Wednesday, and who mysteriously always happens to be mending our neighbor’s trousers when I’m around.

If it is you, Mr. Obioma, let me be clear: the answer is No.  And forever and ever, it will be No.


Because God did not send me to this world to be an obioma’s wife.  Oga, please find your size (excuse the pun).

I don’t believe in love at first sight.  Which is why I am very skeptical about this letter writing business.  If love at first sight does not exist (in my world, at least), then it means you cannot love a person you don’t know, a person you’ve never met.  Until you’ve met me and gotten to know me, and I mean, really know me, warts and all, faults, weaknesses, good, bad, ugly … all join … Until then, you cannot claim to like me, talk less of loving me.

You haven’t professed love yet, but it sounds like that’s where you’re going with these letters.

As for your questions … Hey! See me, see trouble o!  Kuku ask me for my date of birth and bank account number now.  And while we’re at it, kuku collect all my sensitive details too, ehn, secret admirer!

Me, I’m still disputing this your so-called approach.  Yet, here you are asking me exam questions.  Bros, answer them yourself.  Don’t worry about conventions or being a gentleman.  Answer the questions first.  Then, maybe, just maybe, I will reciprocate.  Me too, I won’t take offense.  Don’t worry, my feelings are hidden behind a steel armor.  You can’t hurt them.

When was the last time a man wrote me a letter?  You’re the first.  But that doesn’t mean anything.  The jury is still out over why you’re really writing letters in this day and age.  Do you perhaps have gag-inducing body odor? Eye-watering mouth odor? Or are you one of those people who type with their two fore-fingers like a hen dancing on a keyboard?  I’m leaning towards that last option because then it would make sense that you would prefer to write than type.  And for all the words you crammed into a letter, you could have just sent me an e-mail.

Bros, technology is your friend.  Please, upgrade.

And whatever you choose to write next, don’t flat-out lie that I’m the most beautiful girl in the world.  We both know that’s not true.  So, please come up with something more original, okay?


Uloma the Skeptical

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Read Episode 1: I Like You


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