My Late Night Experience as a Married Woman

There’s nothing anyone can say to convince me otherwise. When women get married, we automatically adorn the cloak of righteousness, especially with what happened to me some weeks back.

Right from my hay days, everyone around me knew I never joked with my sleeping time for any reason whatsoever. This is not for any health reason nor for beauty care purposes, I have just always been that person that woke in the morning and already looked forward to hitting my bed later that night.

I rarely distort my sleep pattern. I have cancelled dates/events because somewhere in my subconscious, I had realized it may eat into my sleeping time. Hence if I made plans of any kind that extended to 9pm, i already knew it was never going to happen. Which is why I laugh when I hear ‘Can I call you around 9:00pm when you will be home already?”. After lol-ing in my mind, I of course say "yes". But by then, sleep would have won the battle. 

Haaa oh fairest sleep! Nothing else matters, nothing!

Unashamedly, that’s me and that’s why I don’t do night parties or worse still, night clubbing.

For where! I avoid it like a plague. Not because of the loud music nor the dark roads, but just the mere thought that I would have to give up precious sleeping hours to be dancing all night was inconceivable. I remembered vividly following a dear friend to a bubbling club at GRA Ikeja back then with the hope that I would dance all night long and enjoy the night out.

Nibo! Once it was getting to 9pm, I was already yawning. By 10pm or some minutes past, I found my way to an empty sofa inside the club and promptly dozed off. The next time I woke was 4am. Suffice to say this friend never extended any day or night outing invitation to me again.

Like i care! Lemme sleep jare

Apart from getting really bored easily once I have achieved the objective of any outing, I’m not an alcohol taker so anything that will keep me glued to a position or location for more than 2 hours must either be bringing in money or I’m being held at gun point or Hubby's commanding stare or voice is holding me down.

Once I 'm somewhere and I have eaten, drank what's consumable and ensured the party host has sighted me, na go be that o. I'll start itching to leave and get back to that awesome settee in my living room or my own side of the bed.

No, I am not an introvert neither am I shy. I'm not even a very quiet person. I can be the life of a party  and give buzz to a boring event but most often than not, I just want to be alone in my own space and plan how to take over the world with my many business ideas.

Which business idea should i start first now? Show me the way

At this point, those that are familiar with Hubby are wondering “What in God’s name was the attraction between you both?” My people, na so we see am o.‎ Anyway, despite all these, Hubby tried as much as he could to ensure he included me in all his outings and 2 weeks back, he was able to get me to hang out with him at night. I can’t even remember our first point of call but we ended up at Rhapsody at Ikeja.

That was where I added few grey hairs to my head and other places with what I saw.

As soon as we got in, which was a struggle due to the jam-packed room, my eyes did a survey around the room and I suddenly felt overdressed in my modest top and jeans. We were able to get a seat towards the back of the room and once I sat and looked around, I just kept praying “Dear God, I came here with a Boo. Please let him go back home with me”. Even the Boo was not helping matters at all because he kept looking around the club like he just regained his lost sight after many years. I was just happy he recognized me when his eyes found its way back to me, even though it was brief. And in my mind, I consoled myself, “you have kuku collected bride price and no return policy.”

As I scouted round the room as so many stunning ladies danced(more like twisted) to this Rihanna’s latest track “twerk twerk twerk twerk twerk, see me ya de na na na na na, yummy dumy da da da da da, dumi mumi na na na na na na”, and I watched all those illegal dance moves, all that kept going on in my head as I looked from one hot babe to another are:‎

“Ha, you will not find a husband like thaaat”

“You tink that’s how I met my own Hubby”

"Is this what they are teaching you in school?"

“See this one, you think he will marry you with what you are wearing?”

“Ha, he will not marry you with the way you are dancing ke”

"Dancing cannot keep a man o. You better stop shaking"

“What is this one wearing? You tink that’s how to find a husband?’

“Ha, he just wants to use you and dump you o this one you are letting him grab you”

“Ha, hmmm I pity you with this boy o. He will just sleep with you and dump you”

“Ha, no man will want to take you home”

“Ha, see what this one is wearing. Does your mummy know where you are”

“Look at this one, this boy will just use you anyhow”

“You this small girl, I pity your parents. This boy will just do you anyhow”

“Anu omo yii ma shey mi o. This boy just wants to Netflix & chill”.
In that club, I became my mum and all my aunties rolled into one and even a little bit of my grandmother. 

I pity you. Be twerking you hear.

I had to refrain myself from shaking my head as I looked at each dancing and very fine chic. I hated their scantily clad bodies and for making me feel so old. I glared at my own Boo. He won’t even let me wear a see through blouse on a normal day!

Who approved this Rihanna song sef?

And as they twerked some more with some closer to my Boo as I eyed them from my corner eye, I considered whispering into his ears “Do you still love me even though I can’t twerk like that? Am I still beautiful in your eyes? Will you still go home with me tonight? Please don’t dump me for any of these silly near naked hot girls. I will cook your favorite dish if you come back home with me. or do you want my ATM card?”

Collect my ATM card na. Please don't leave me. They won't make you happy

Apparently, Hubby was more interested in seeing his own wife twerk as he tried to get me to stand and dance with him, in my very dead jeans and now too loose blouse. Even the waitresses were even more scantily clad than I was. But knowing I would just disgrace myself among these fine girls and just show off what should remain hidden- my very outdated dance steps like creep walking, shaba and butterfly moves, I just smiled and gestured with my hands as if to say “don’t worry, so long as you are dancing alone, keep dancing and I will be watching you to see if there’s any second wife in this club”.

Will you cover yasef properly and stop twerking in front of my Boo

At that club that night, despite the funny scenarios, it hit me that my judgmental state was incongruous to my personal character. I didn’t want to but the maternal/nurturing/marital instinct kicked off. Despite my acclaimed independent lady syndrome bla bla bla, that night, only my married brain was with me. It became clearer to me why women lose touch with single friends once they get married. It’s not being snobbish but just that another part of your brain opens and totally dominates. The maternal/wifey cloaks automatically come on. You start thinking differently. I once wrote that it was near impossible to maintain a single status state of mind when being married or a married state of mind when single. There are some things one side will never understand until they are on the same side.

That’s why you will hardly find married women in clubs or late parties. Apart from supposedly having fun, we go there to judge every woman, holding the invisible justice wand and passing unsolicited judgment. It’s just really inevitable.

I need to learn twerking though. I want to be the first wife that can twerk very well, particularly in public. I want Hubby to start being the one eyeing all the other fine dudes around me.


N:B- Boo & Hubby are one and the same.