Almost True Tales

02/03/2026

01/03/2026

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31/01/2026

WHY MY FRIENDS ARE SINGLE

A few days ago, I had a very long phone conversation with my friend.
One of those casual calls that somehow stretches into hours. We weren’t even talking about anything particularly spicy, just life, stress, other people, and future plans that always feel both close and far with every passing year.

When the call ended, I sat for a while, thinking about how strange it was. Two grown men talking for hours, not about business or work or other manly stuff… just talking. It felt odd.
That kind of emotional dumping is only supposed to happen in a relationship, with a partner. But there we were, going at it for hours, because neither of us had anyone else to do it with.
Not just the two of us. All of us.

The more I thought about it, it became clear that we all shared the same pattern, and that pattern explained why my friends and I are still single. Here’s how.

1. Some of my friends are Builders.
They’re looking for a teammate to build a life with—someone to split the rent, grow a career, and navigate the struggle of the 2020s. However, due to fear of wasting your best years on someone who might leave once they’ve used you to get ahead, many people now refuse to date someone who isn’t already a “finished product” (stable job, own place, healed trauma), leaving my builders stranded.

2. Some of my friends are Successful.
Wealthy young people often need genuine emotional support and a safe space to be vulnerable away from the pressures of their work, but the fear of “gold digging,” not just for money but for status and clout, makes them hyper-cynical. They would rather be lonely and secure than “chosen” and exploited.

3. Some of my friends are Broke.
Not just financially, though that’s part of it. Many of my friends feel they need to “catch up” in life before they can catch someone else. Being single is safer than dragging someone into instability or struggle. So they wait until they feel they have something tangible to offer.

4. Some of my friends are Gen Zs.
They want connection and intimacy, but they aren’t willing to sacrifice their autonomy for it. They have realized that being single is actually quite peaceful compared to the “work” of a relationship. A lot of them see a partner as an added burden or a “second job,” and with the rise of “single-positivity,” my young friends are choosing their hobbies, sleep schedules, and career goals over the compromise required to live with someone else. They don’t want to be accountable to anyone else’s bad mood or schedule.

5. Some of my friends are Too Emotionally Intelligent.
They are always looking for a “healthy” connection, which, apparently, is scarce these days, so they stay single because they feel everyone else is too broken. Conversely, some stay single because they feel they aren’t healed or emotionally mature enough yet to be a good partner, leading to a cycle of “waiting until I’m perfect” that never ends.

6. Some of my friends are Shallow.
It’s a little absurd for their age, I know; I tell them that too. They want organic, Instagram-worthy sparks and meet-cute moments.
Because they spend most of their time these days on social apps, people start to feel like disposable commodities to them. When you have “infinite choice,” you never want to commit because you’re afraid of missing out on a slightly better option. This illusion of more makes everyone feel like a placeholder rather than a person.

7. Some of my friends are Tired.
Not lazy. Not unmotivated. Just exhausted in a very modern way. They’ve been hustling, healing, self-improving, and surviving terrible jobs and bad economies. By the time romance comes up, they don’t have the emotional bandwidth to start something new. Dating feels like another task on an already overflowing to-do list, so they postpone it indefinitely.

8. Some of my friends are Guarded.
They’ve loved deeply before and paid for it. Trust, once broken, doesn’t grow back easily. They now analyze red flags like detectives and exit at the first sign of discomfort. They tell themselves it’s “standards,” but sometimes it’s just ‘fear’ wearing a smarter outfit.

9. Some of my friends are Too Self-Aware.
They overthink every interaction. They question their feelings in real time. They wonder if they’re projecting, settling, or forcing chemistry. Nothing is allowed to simply happen anymore. Everything must be processed, labeled, and understood, which leaves very little room for spontaneity or romance.

10. Some of my friends are Waiting For Certainty.
They want guarantees. That this will last. That this person won’t change. That the effort will be worth it. But relationships don’t come with warranties, and in a world that punishes mistakes loudly, many people would rather wait forever than risk choosing wrong.

And me? I’m probably some combination of all of these. I rotate through the excuses, depending on the day, and I won’t lie, they all seem pretty rational to me considering we live in a time that teaches us to protect ourselves first, hesitate often, and expect the worst.

We’ve gotten really good at surviving alone—so good, in fact, that we’ve almost forgotten how to let someone in. And that’s why we’re still here, still single, still talking late into the night, trying to convince ourselves that this is enough.

But it’s not.

04/01/2026

Into The Hot Tarmac: The Last Debate

My name is Darray—Lieutenant Darray back then, in the Shookuna Movement Army. I was twelve years old when my brother brought me into the camp and told me this was where we belonged now. I didn’t understand the rules or the politics, only the fear in his eyes when he said we had to stay.

And today… a man died.

It was a scorching Tuesday of January 12th, 2022, the air above the Kwirishi Bypass was thick and shimmering, not just from the brutal 36°C midday harmattan heat, but from the collective furnace of ten thousand enraged lungs in the nearby Korasha City, where protests against corruption had shaken the streets into a wild heartbeat.

The smell was a harsh blend of sweat, burnt rubber, and the metallic tang of tear gas residue. I stayed hidden behind a burnt-out civilian bus, the last piece of cover separating me from the men, trying to look brave, but my eyes were fixed on my brother, Kai.

Unlike me, Kai was a man of the people, fearless in the face of danger and our father’s favourite. He was dressed in his usual faded, torn buba and sokoto, clothes that barely clung to his thin, stubborn frame. He looked tired, but his gaze was steady and unwavering. He stood a respectful distance from the man in uniform, Assistant Superintendent Bukinna Roggers.

The ASP, in his pristine but sweat-soaked dark-blue uniform, looked like a monument of duty. His rifle, a frightening, futuristic thing called a Tavor X95, was held casually, pointed at the ground between them, less a threat and more a heavy piece of equipment. I hated its black shine.

“We finally meet outside of Twitter, Mr. police officer,” Kai called out, his voice raw but calm.
“Why don’t you choose the side of the people for once?”

Bukinna adjusted his grip, his face hard but earnest. “Ah, the side of the people,” he said, wiping sweat off his brow. “How about I choose the side of order, Kai, eehn, how about that? The side that stops this nation, this city, from sliding into the abyss. You call whatever it is you and your little minions think you’re doing freedom; I call it for what it is, a prelude to civil war.”

I listened, eyes darting between them, trying to make sense of the big words.

“I am the servant of the law,” the policeman thundered, aggressively beating his chest, sounding sure of himself. “That man you seek to destroy is an elected official. He represents a constitutional order, and you, Kai, are operating outside the legal framework. You are a criminal, and I wish there was a way I could make you understand that I am the one on the right side of this. I uphold the structure, I believe in the possibility of change within the system, and I also believe in achieving that change in a peaceful and lawful way.”

Kai simply sighed, a sound of profound disappointment.

“Structure, you say? What structure? Structure built on mud? You call it law; we call it a sophisticated system of theft that launders evil into legitimacy. Your so-called law protects the right of politicians to loot. An unjust law is an act of violence, not an act of order. The only law I agree with is the moral law, the one etched onto the faces of the children whose future that man you protect is stealing. You are simply an accomplice defending thieves with your rifle.”

I almost clapped. The money Papa spent on Kai’s secondary education hadn’t gone to waste, I thought, and then Bukinna continued making his case.

“You speak of morality, but we both know your actions only guarantee instability. Look at the chaos you cause, what is the moral in that? Who takes over when you bring down this government? You? Your Commander? The military?! My loyalty is to the stability of this nation. I ensure there is still a nation left to fix. I am doing the good, necessary work of holding the line so the whole city doesn’t collapse.”

I understood the policeman’s argument. Mama had always preached that stability was better than chaos. But my brother wasn’t having any of it; his voice remained even, almost academic, as if correcting a failed thesis.

“The anarchy is already here, Bukinna. You just wear a uniform that makes you blind to it.”

Kai’s eyes narrowed, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.

“In the North, farmers are slaughtered daily. The Southerners are kidnapping and selling human parts for money. Insecurity everywhere. The politicians’ corruption is the instability, and your “peace” only guarantees graveyards, officer. I have made it my job to fight these true agents of destabilisation that you seem so oblivious to.”

This point seemed to cut deepest, and Bukinna dropped his gaze momentarily, the safety catch of his Tavor feeling cold.

“You know,” he began, adjusting the collar of his uniform, “people always think police officers are heartless monsters. That we enjoy standing in the sun all day shouting commands, extorting and arresting people.”

He chuckled, but it was dry and bruised.

Read full story on Medium.
https://medium.com//into-the-hot-tarmac-the-last-debate-cf0a7f610f31

03/01/2026

31/12/2025

I could never forget that day. The day that changed everything for Manchester City. You had to be there. It was May 13, 2012, and Manchester City was on the verge of winning their first league title in 44 years. To do it, they just had to…

Read “The Aguero Moment“ by Almost True Tales on Medium:

I could never forget that day. The day that changed everything for Manchester City. You had to be there.

26/12/2025

FIFTEEN SHADES OF CRAZY

As a millennial, born and raised in Africa, we were taught there were only two genders, defined by their reproductive anatomy: if you have a womb, you are female; if not, you are male. Simple as that.

However, if my daughter wakes up at 18 and decides to identify as something as random as Guinness Malt or a toothbrush, I’ll be fine with it. I’ll love her. Would I understand the line of thinking? Given my upbringing, no. Do I think it is crazy? Hell yes—but who isn’t these days?

I am a Christian who believes in God and in Jesus Christ. But when I think about some of the things written in the Bible and the fact that thousands of mutually exclusive religions all claim the same certainty, I think I am crazy.

I am a strong believer that Islam is a religion of peace, and my good muslim neighbors are not going to wake up one day and decide to end me because of my faith. But when I read the news every day, I think I am crazy.

I also believe in science and the logic of the Big Bang being responsible for every single atom and every single chemical reaction. But when I think about WHY electrical signals in the brain become memory, fear, and love, I think I am crazy.

I believe the West is helping developing countries like mine fight hunger, disease, and insurgency. But when I look at history, the debt cycles that keep us perpetually dependent, and how often arms and aid end up exacerbating the very conflicts they were meant to solve, I think I am crazy.

I believe that my government cares deeply about its citizens and will protect our rights, ensure our well-being, and steer the nation toward long-term prosperity. But when I see how laws passed only benefit a small elite and how easily my welfare can be sacrificed for political expediency or corporate profit, I think I am crazy.

I believe school is meant to enhance judgment and build empathy, clarity, humility, and wisdom over time. But when I watch educated people defend obvious falsehoods with confidence and good grammar, I think I am crazy.

I believe hard work is rewarded in the long run, but when I see effort and discipline lose to luck, timing, and connections, I think I am crazy.

I believe democracy gives people a voice, and that collective choice, though flawed, is better than silence. But when I watch emotional loyalty and misinformation outweigh reason again and again, I think I am crazy.

I believe money is a tool, not a measure of worth. I tell myself it should enable life, not define it. But when I see how deeply it shapes respect, access, and even morality, I think I am crazy.

I believe having a gun keeps people and their families safe, and in the simple logic that an armed, responsible individual is the ultimate deterrent against a threat. But when I see how increased access to guns statistically correlates with more gun deaths, accidents, suicides, and domestic violence, I think I am crazy.

I believe surveillance is essential for security, and I support more cameras, more data collection, and better tracking to keep the streets safe. But when I see that my phone’s location history has been accessed without my knowledge, I complain about privacy violations. I think I am crazy.

I believe climate change is real and sustainability is urgent. I know our consumption habits are a threat. But when I still choose the convenience of plastic and imported goods every day, I think I am crazy.

I believe my life has a purpose, and I strive to leave a substantial legacy through my achievements and daily efforts. But when I think about the infinitesimal flicker of my existence in the context of a 13.8 billion-year-old universe, I think I am crazy.

I believe adulthood brings certainty and emotional stability. But now that I am here, still unsure, still learning, still afraid of things I don’t understand, I think I am crazy.

I also believe I may or may not have wandered slightly off point here, and that is totally because I am crazy.

But really, who isn’t a little crazy?

The truth is that all of us are different shades of crazy, some “crazies” even fifty shades darker than others. At the top of that list are prejudices such as homophobia, transphobia, racism, colorism, religious discrimination, tribalism, sexism, xenophobia, classism, and antisemitism.

Humans will always find ways to treat their fellow humans like dirt simply because they believe their own way of life is superior and their identity more valid and deserved. A close-mindedness I feel usually stems from confirmation bias, perpetuated endlessly by religious and cultural conditioning, fear of change, or sheer, comfortable ignorance.

The opposite of crazy, then, for me, would be the ability to acknowledge our shared humanity, even when reality feels unfamiliar.

History shows that the most dangerous forms of “rationality” are rigid convictions that strip others of their dignity. When belief becomes a weapon used to silence differences, it stops being reason and starts becoming cruelty.

This is why, despite all my rational upbringing and my clear memory of how the world used to be, I would be inclined to agree with my daughter if she says she is Guinness Malt. I will always choose the kind of crazy that fosters life, love, and acceptance over the kind that justifies hatred.

The ultimate sanity, perhaps, lies in knowing that we are all walking contradictions, and in consciously embracing kindness, inclusivity, and our shared necessary illusions for the sake of goodness.

16/12/2025

My heart is beating faster just typing this, remembering that moment outside Club 411.

The night was thick with lights and smoke, but all I could see was you, as you walked with purposeful strides toward your waiting luxury car.

You stopped for a second, framed by the neon glow and the pounding Afrobeat song “Baby (Is It a Crime)” by Rema that was filtering out of the lounge under the club. Dressed down, no makeup, yet breathtaking. You wore a slim, dark denim jacket over a simple dress that made you look like one of my rich university classmates.

The tinted windows of your Rolls-Royce Phantom hid me, and your dead driver slumped in the front seat, from your view. So you didn’t see me, but I saw every inch of you.

This is how it’s been all week since you flew into Port Harcourt. I’d been right there with you, invisible, and you never noticed, not at Sky Bar, not at Bear Barn, not at Casablanca, not at Lesukaa, not at Orange Room, and certainly not here.

You reached for the car handle and got in. The second you settled into the leather seat, and the smell of your expensive perfume filled the space, I hit the lock button, sealing us in a silent cage.

What an incredible moment this was for me. Just you and I alone, inside your car. No distraction from the rest of the world, not the wannabe paparazzi, not your crazy fans, not your co-stars, not your security detail, not even your manager. Just me and you. I had dreamt about this day for a long time.

Your eyes widened in shock the moment you saw me. I’d seen that same amazing look on your face before, in your movies, when you were acting scared. I miss your up-and-coming African Magic days. Now that you’ve made it to the big screens, I don’t get to see you as often. That made me sad, and since then, we both made a series of decisions that led us to this moment.

I could tell you were not acting. The panic was real this time, but what you probably didn’t realize was that I was just as scared as you. You didn’t see me shaking. My teeth were chattering. My whole body was trembling. My panic surged, raw and immediate. And before either of us could speak, I pulled the trigger.