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.

I’m Married But I’m About to Cheat…..

This post is not intended to be a ‘Dear Aunty” post requiring advice or soliciting for people to try and dissuade the person involved. Neither is it a warning to treat underlying issues so as to avoid the next intended line of action.

I know this because when I spoke to the mutterer of this statement, she wasn’t asking for my permission neither was she asking to be advised. On the contrary, and considering I was very familiar with a resolute mind when I came across one, when I was seated across her and she uttered this statement after taking a sip of the glass of Pina Colada with a whisper of Rum in front of her, I knew the only thing I could ask for that may elicit an agreement was “Can I post on my blog and I won’t reveal your name?”

I wasn’t surprised when she smiled and said “Of course!” with a whiter than ever grin that I had always secretly envied and liked, even as a woman.

Nope, not her..

I deliberately lost touch with Ibukun (not real name) about 6 years back and I had tried my best to ensure we didn’t stay in touch. My decision was not based on Ibukun being a bad friend nor someone to be avoided at all costs due to bad habits.

Rather, I had to gradually phase out the friendship because without trying, Ibukun had the most influencing spirit around her. She was the kind of woman who didn’t need to try so hard to get people to agree to whatever she may be talking about or doing. She was so good at using the Socrates system of questioning to get anyone on her side. On several occasions, I’d found myself berating myself in private for agreeing with her on situations that go against my beliefs- behavioral or even political.

All she had to do was tilt her head to one side, smile lopsidedly and begin with “Why” then move gradually to “how”, “shouldn’t you”, “don’t you think”, And finally, "so you will agree with me that...".

I’ve been trying to remember when I was able to successfully disagree on her stance and had her concede. But it’s either my memory was so bad or she had always come out victorious. If I were a man, I’d say “She’s always had me by the balls”

It wasn’t just the looks and mien (another topic for another blog post). It was because Ibukun was a very good girl. In a very bad way, a femme fatale even for a woman like myself, and without seeming to try. She had that from the first day I met her till the last time I saw her and she probably will still have it when I get to meet her again, few weeks from today.

And by our next meeting date and if her stance from last week remains the same, she would have initiated her first phase of infidelity.

As a woman who had been blessed with a superior sense of objectivity at a very early age, I was able to acknowledge on time and after some few hang outs that Ibukun was a rare breed and a combination of what I always secretly wanted to dare to be. Where I aspired to be, she was there years before I got there – both financially, educationally and career wise.

Yes, few years back, I was a little envious of her achievements, career and oh yes, looks. So when she moved briefly to the States to further her education and career, I conveniently lost touch but kept her on my social media platforms. And occasionally when I got to see some pictures that made me want to question my achievements, either the newly acquired degrees or the fact that she lived in one of the most beautiful apartments in Los Angeles, I would quickly scroll past.

So on Valentine’s Day, when I saw a missed call with a number that looked like a specially requested digits, I was sure it was an authority figure. So I called back and after 3 rings, Ibukun picked up.

And just like that, she came back. Into my life, with a bang, in a blaze of regality and the ever influencing mien.

And with an admission rarely uttered in this part of the world.

(To be cont’d)

This Post on Haggling Has No Title

My mum is a pro when it comes to haggling. Wherever she shopped, I had no doubt that she got the best offer available. She can haggle a great offer with anyone for any reason. And because she took me with her to most of the markets, I learned a lot about haggling/negotiating as I grew. It could be buying meat from the local market woman or haggling for the repair of the kitchen faucet from the plumber or the repair of the furniture from the carpenter or even negotiating on a service with a friend, my mum always ended up getting the best offer and she ensured I witnessed all this.

Fast forward to the present, haggling is one of my expertise, and trust me when I say it’s not because I am being cheap. I simply understand that in life, for everything to go smoothly, we have to disagree to agree. Unfortunately, the art of haggling is something a lot of Nigerians are uncomfortable with at best, and often try to avoid entirely as they consider it a status "thing" to be able to meet the initial offer/price mentioned. Not me sha.

Where I’m concerned, the need to haggle no matter how fair the initial offer had been is innate. In fact my mind is so conditioned to “price market” that the minute someone mentions their offer, my brain is automatically conditioned to say “ahn ahn why is it that expensive now?” or “Can’t I get a better offer than this?”

I believe the problem (if you choose to see it that way) began when my mum sent me to help her get some tomatoes worth sixty naira from the nearby market with fifty naira. Despite being apprehensive that the market women were going to beat me blue black, I heeded my mother’s instructions and proceeded to the market. And to my shock, the market women eagerly sold three cans of tomatoes for fifty naira. That move encouraged me to begin haggling- whether when buying products or seeking some services.

To further put my haggling practice into perfection, sometime in the early 2000 when I was a teenager, I escaped being lynched in Oshodi when I attempted to price a very expensive material I wanted to use for my birthday from 4600 naira to 800 naira. (I’m not exaggerating). Armed with the notion I got from people that Igbo traders multiply the product’s real price by four, I confidently faced an Igbo store owner and slashed her final asking price to eight hundred naira. She must have concluded I wasn’t going to buy the material (I would actually have bought it if she had agreed to my offer of 800 naira) and she started shouting and calling other shop owners around her to come and witness what she is witnessing today o. God must have intervened on that day as I thought someone was going to bring out petrol and tyre the way they all turned to me and lambasted my actions. 

Don’t blame me. I learned from the best.

I once visited a major market with my mum and I witnessed as she haggled the price of a very huge catfish such that the fish seller was left quite speechless and all she could say was “Mummy, e mu eja yen le. Boya ti e ba suun si waju, won ma ta fun yin ni iye yen”(Mummy, put that fish down. Maybe if you move forward a bit, other sellers may sell to you at that price)At this point, she even pointed to somewhere unclear and went back to her seat totally ignoring us from then. From that day, I ensured my mum and I do not visit the market together.

Recently, I even attempted to update my haggling tactics when I attempted to negotiate the cost of the total bill incurred during my daughter’s delivery. The extremely well-traveled doctor had a look of shock when I suggested how much we were willing to pay and like someone chastising an errant and dumb child, proceeded to explain why it was impossible to even remove one naira, especially in the kind of tush environment I had dared to try. I even saw the look of embarrassment hubby had when I proceeded to expose my ratchet haggling attitude in the posh doctor’s office. 

But here’s a truth that many of us don’t always consider: every interaction we have with another person is a form of haggling. From negotiating with your lover on having them come and pick you from work if they want you to sleep over, choosing that dark Yoruba demon among the numerous inter-tribal suitors you have, negotiating that salary plus vacation wages with the prospective employer you are looking to join, to being able to successfully reduce the price of that new DVD from that Igbo trader, we are navigating a in a world of back and forth negotiation and the better you are at influencing, persuading and negotiating towards getting the best out of people, the better you will be for it. I recently witnessed a sweet tongued friend of mine negotiate with a new employer an annual salary that was quadruple of what she was earning in her previous place of work. And she succeeded just because she dared and didn’t just accept what she was offered.

If you simply accept whatever people offer you without questioning, you will always have no choice than to take what’s given to you and hope that it matches what you want. Most times, it usually doesn’t.

Your boss wants you to work this weekend, how about negotiating to close early on Friday so you can finish up all your house chores on time to come early the next day? Your spouse wants pounded yam after work, how about negotiating to have him look after the kids for the rest of the night and also help in changing the front wheels of your car? Someone is asking for a certain sum of money as loan, how about negotiating a capital NO? Your son/daughter has tabled the bill for dic, tion and nary which they need to buy urgently before school resumes, how about negotiating to help them purchase the books since you are on your way to the market anyway? He wants to marry you before completion of your education and promises to finance the rest of your schooling after marriage, how about negotiating to have him make the funds available into your personal bank account before you accept the ring or even pay the tuition ahead of time to the school in question?

You see why you need to learn the art of haggling? And where better to start than the local markets particularly those men/women that sell meat, brokoto and fish- eja obokun especially.

WARNING- Why Marriage May Cause You to Lose Friends

Even Monica & Rachael had a fight when Chandler came into the picture

I’m really not the kind of person that makes friends easily with other ladies. I proceed with caution where new friendship is concerned. And whatever existing friendship I already have, I guard jealously. Women are known not to make the most loyal of friends.

It was this sort of guarded friendship I shared with Ayo, a friend I met during the compulsory National Youth Service Orientation in Abuja and grew over the years.

I liked to believe this was due to the fact that we both shared the same goals and ambition in the areas of education and career expectations. We had seemed to be the only ones back then in Abuja that never quite understood the hype ladies placed in getting married and making babies once out of school and done with service. We were genuinely confused as to the low ambitious levels of ladies around us back then. There was just so much we wanted to achieve before walking down the aisle.

Really, what's the rush? We are going to be there for the rest of our lives

Whenever we met at Ceddi Plaza, Southern Fries or any other restaurant within Abuja metropolis, we discussed the business degrees we wanted to acquire and the businesses we hoped to launch and pursue in the near future once done with further learning. Our parents had given us comfortable lives and we wanted to ensure that continued.

We had kept in touch even after she had left the shores of the country to pursue her educational and career goals and remained there. And it was during our usual back and forth exchange of mails that Ayo wanted to know: “I have realized and even here in the States, that married people I thought we were quite cordial seem so standoffish like being married is a prize and they do alienate to doing things with themselves alone and behaving funny towards we single people. What’s up with that babes?”

The question came as no surprise as I had lost touch with some few friends after marriage and I knew some single women who had shared similar complaints about their married friends in the past and lamented on the sheer arrogance of it all. I agreed with her that some women become downright annoying and judgmental the minute they become married. And I explained to her that some of these women grew up in environments and societies that had repeatedly told them marriage and child bearing were the highest achievements a woman is expected to attain and without it, they would remain unaccomplished and un-celebrated.

Thus, when such women finally end up with a ring on their finger, their attitudes could be compared to that of extremely successful people because for them, marriage defines success and they have achieved it. So if they have friends that have not achieved that level of success which they have achieved, they will turn up their “successful” noses at the rest of their “unsuccessful” friends yet to achieve the marital and “motherhood” status.

In Nigeria especially, it's not just to get married, you must yield fruit after 9 months otherwise it's the woman's fault. 

However, the reason most married women lose their single friends go way beyond what a lot of people have assumed to be true.

SPOUSES SEVERE RELATIONSHIPS BETWEEN WOMEN- This may seem impossible but some spouses ensure their wives severe relationships with some friends who they believe may be bad influences. This is however more common with men who are domineering and rather insecure. In some cases, these single friends may genuinely be bad influences whose traits the married woman may already be exhibiting in her matrimonial home. This is however rare. Rather, most often than not, the major reasons husbands try to severe such relationships is because:

a) The single friend’s got s**t on him and he is most uncomfortable knowing his wife is friends with someone who has dirt on him. Dirt in this case could mean she knows someone he is secretly dating or she may have been the one he used to date secretly even while with his wife but he is no longer dating her. Or he has been trying to get back into her once generous pants but she isn’t returning his advances. Men usually want to cut their wives from such single friends as it makes them feel less guilty having their indiscretion so close to home. So as a married woman, if your spouse is trying to severe your relationship from a friend who is not a bad person, you may want to look deeper as most men that fall under the category of friendship-severer usually have something to hide.

SINGLE WOMEN UNCONSCIOUSLY STAY AWAY FROM MARRIED FRIENDS BECAUSE THEY "FEEL" THEY ARE NO LONGER A PRIORITY – This usually occurs especially among friends that are more than two in a clique and more than one of them is married. The remaining single woman/women in this clique believe(s) the married ones will start judging now that they have gotten married. As a result of this assumption, many single women create a gap between their married friends and themselves to avoid being judged.

MARRIED WOMEN FEEL THEY MAY BE BORING TO THEIR SINGLE FRIENDS- I mean let’s face it, what gist can a married woman possibly have with her single friend that won’t have the phrase “my husband” , “my mum-in-law”, “the nanny is wicked” or “my baby” repeated more than 900 times within two sentences? Most married women, except where very extrovertish and not really much of a home maker, usually believe they have nothing new or interesting to share with their friends and most times, avoid getting together so they don’t seem to have a boring life now that they are married while beefing from afar.

MARRIED WOMEN RESENT SINGLE WOMEN’S FREEDOM- Sorry ladies, its true! Yup, I said it. No, resentment does not imply we are wishing we were single again. Far from it! Chances however abound that you probably have more interesting DP’s to share on Facebook, BBM and Instagram while the only pictures married women may manage to have and share is the baby bump they have shown their single friends a million times, the new haircut of the baby, the baby’s first tooth, the husband in the car taking a selfie he was forced to take with wifey, grandma holding the baby which only looks adorable to us and nobody else, the “look, mummy no hands” images of baby’s first walk, the pre-pregnancy pictures that in Nigeria, we only dare to share after delivery, the new walker we got for the baby, Hubby’s birthday cake and other humdrum dumdrum that shows our primary life is now centered around our family- husband and children. And there you are, in all your single gorgeous blazing glory on the strong arms of Idris Elba’s look alike *drooling*, flashy gowns which yeah, we think is too short and “why are your legs and arms so toned and perfect” we hate you!), perfect eyebrows, coming back from the late night shows with hotter friends you have replaced us with, late night movies with some unbelievably gorgeous friends and other annoying envious stuff we now hate you for. To think the last club and night outing we attended was our Hubby's distant uncle's late dad's burial. Sorry, but until you start sharing those same-ol images of you in sweat pants and slaving away for your six kids and overgrown hubby baby like we do, we are going to continue hating!

DIFFERENT GOALS, DIFFERENT PRIORITIES- Fact remains that a married woman’s goal totally differs from a single woman's goal. Married women that are able to maintain status quo with single friends are either married to men who do not stay in the same location with them giving the women more time to be with single friends, or there are no kids yet hence the freedom to still act single. However, a married woman in Nigeria with kids have several external circumstances that prevent deep cultivation of a relationship with friends that are still single. Her priorities become her spouse, her children, her spouse’s family, her work and her children’s lifestyle, hoping against all that they don't grow to tell her 'I was born a human but I really feel like I am meant to be a sheep instead". The little free time she has left, she will rather prefer to sleep or hide in Guangzhou, away from where her spouse and children can ever locate her than hang out with friends.

And this goes vice versa. Men also lose friends after marriage. Once married, your overall goal changes. Things happen, circumstances occur and priorities change. Some are deliberate but truth is most are not.

I mean, If I hang out with a group of friends- both single, the single ladies will most likely want to talk about the number of guys on their cases, the latest aso-ebi style, how expensive Bisi’s wedding was despite the shortage of semo and moin moin, teach one another the latest dance moves and maybe even throw a very fake "how's your baby and husband na?" greeting just to show they still care somehow.

While the less than 4 years married Mummy Kami in the group may simply be trying so hard not to yawn but check her phone for the 17th time to see whether Daddy Kami has called and if he is already on his way home so she can bring out the vegetable and fish stew from the freezer, hoping he won’t notice the stew is now salty though. And in another corner of the living room where the young MummyMofe is sitted trying to forcefully breastfeed cranky Mofe, she may be wondering whether anyone else had told Bimpe who just gave birth to cut down on the cold water so her tummy can look less like a 7 months pregnant woman with twins. 

And just in the very shaded corner of the room cut away from the rowdiness of it all, I will be sitted close to the door wondering when I could sneak out and if I should just come outright and tell Bukky to really shut up about the color of her new born's poop, and silently hoping Hubby will get home and just take Golden-Morn as I was not ready to prepare any fresh meal.

I mean, depending on which side you are on, do you really give a flying saucer about all other unnecessary information that isn't yours?

Kpsheew

The Danger of a Midnight Cuddle

I love to hug and cuddle. A whole lot.

For me, I believe it’s one of the most powerful ways to express affection and show how much someone means to you. In a manner of speaking, sharing a deep hug or cuddling next to someone you love can be quite emotional and relaxing. You can actually have an inkling how much someone cares just by the way and manner of hug and cuddles they pass your way.

Which was why during the early wooing stages when Hubby was still trying to justify why no other creation of God could make me as happy as he could (Yep, he said it), one of the first questions I asked him was:

“Do you like PDA”? (Mehn, that question was very important as I didn’t want to end up with a guy who would post on Facebook or Twitter “Happy Birthday to the love of my life, you know yourself!” And 38 girls would happily smile and gush thinking it was them)

Hubby is the last person you can catch unawares though. With a very mushy expression, he held my hands and pledged his undying support for PDA and his belief that it was a way of reassuring a woman how deeply he loves her. He even rubbed my hand affectionately in that public spot we were that day just to show me how much PDA I could look forward to if I could simply just promise to be his prize for the rest of eternity. He even went ahead to promise he would name our first daughter with my name. Now he is saying that royal name of mine is old school.

Fast forward to many months of marriage and Hubby has been able to prove that he is not averse in any way to public display of affection. And as a woman, there are just some days you come home and just want to nestle into the crook of your man’s arms, crooning and moaning about the hassles of the day. Hubby indulges me during these times and even ruffles my head in affection while he presses away on his phone and chats across 3 groups.

That should have been the warning sign. The head ruffle. The same type you give to your Chihuahua that you named Champagne, Fluffy, Petal, or one of those exotic names you give to pets that are very close to the floor without letting them distract you.

Apart from being a lover of hugs and cuddles, I am also a light sleeper. So most times when I wake around midnight to ease myself, getting back to sleep is usually nearly impossible. It’s during these sleepless moments I usually want to experience some warm cuddles the most. Hubby knows this and though indulges me most times, he is quick to stop me with a glaring look when he sees I’ve got the mushy look of “I’m coming in for a cuddle” and especially when he just showers and still basking in the coolness of his own body.  And when I’m hit by these emotions at night, I look at Hubby on the other side of bed looking so peaceful while snoring softly with his arms flung over his head and one tucked away by his neck or stomach and I just want to nestle close and cuddle to sleep there.

However, when you have been married for many months to a man who takes after Jackie Chan in moves when woken abruptly and needs up to 30 years to join we mortals back on earth after disrupting his sleep, you try to be wise and plan your cuddly midnight moments accordingly to avoid sharing the same looks with a battered thief on the street of Lagos.

So on that fateful night, Hubby had earlier warned me not to go to bed early as I stood a higher chance of waking early and not being able to  go back to sleep. But I had ignored. I was just too tired. And he didn't bother to argue nor warned me not to disturb him when I woke. It wasn't necessary as I was a very peaceful bedtime mate and never had I had the cause to wake him in the past.

At around midnight, I woke abruptly and with a sense of sadness, shone my flashlight to check the time. It was 12:45am. I knew the rest of the night was going to be long. As soon as I had relieved myself, I shone the light briefly at Hubby’s sleeping silhouette and I was enveloped by a rush of warmth. He is the only one I know who looks so innocent while asleep. Lying on his back, with his head facing the wall and with his hand flung across his head and one tucked peacefully by his neck, I dove in for a cuddle nestling so close I could hear his gentle heartbeat while using my free arm to softly rub his chest as it heaved up and down slowly.

The first sign of trouble was when the soft snoring stopped suddenly and he turned his head swiftly to look down at what was nestling under his arm. While he did this, I knew I had made a mistake and I had up to 20 seconds as Hubby required some questions to be answered mentally before gaining back his reality- Where am i? Who is this? What year are we? Has Soyinka been released? Is Abacha dead? Have we gained independence? Have they found Shekau? How did I come to being? What nestles in my arm so? What have I done? Are we alone? Who gave me life? Is this heaven?” And so many other questions I imagine he gets answers to before joining us back on planet earth.

I was aware the answers to these questions would take up to 20-30 seconds in his mind so I resignedly waited for it.

I can’t really explain what happened next or if there was any external assistance or whether he simply wished it in his mind and it happened. All I knew was that like a millipede suddenly hit with salt, my eyes only had time to register the swift Jet Li move Hubby did with the arm where my head was nestled and like a surreal movie, I watched the way my head and whole body was ejected out of those arms I was admiring some seconds back like a cracked CD in a Blu-ray system. 

I still maintain that the duvet smiled at me when my fallen butt joined it, right on the floor where I’d thrown it earlier in the night. And the soft snoring continued. Almost immediately from the bed above. Like it never happened. And I had simply chosen to sleep on the floor, albeit an askew position possible to do by myself.

He still denies ever doing such. Doesn't matter though, I already learned that when it comes to Hubby, a midnight cuddle is as dangerous as a cold bath during the harmattan season. So I just maintain my side and only cuddle during the day when it’s much safer. 

Fast and Furious 8: The Naija Marriage Edition

I am an undiscovered Formula One driver.

"Tejumade Shakirat Fola- Alade of Osun state!!!!!" Hubby Screamed. "Did you not see that Pot hole?!"

"Which pothole? That small gallop?" Hian!

I was driving on the express way at a speed that would have made even Vin Diesel’s character in the Fast and Furious franchise smile with glee. Hubby was hunched at a corner in the car with a look of horror on his face, but after all it’s an expressway and I wasn’t even at 120Km/h yet and he was complaining.

I am one of the most impatient drivers on the streets of Lagos. And a lot of my friends who have witnessed my driving antics behind the wheels would agree wholeheartedly.

Oh yes, they complain and whine about how fast I was going but I always have the same question for them all, “But did you die? Shebi you are still alive”, and I usually ask further “how come you always come to me when you need to get somewhere quickly”

Ok, maybe I don't go that fast but many have sworn this was all they saw

Even Hubby, whose attention span for everything is shorter than the shortest fuse in the world, pays the most attention when I’m behind the wheels and is usually quick to share some advice, “Be careful o”, “Watch that pot hole o”, “What are you driving”, “You are too fast madam”, “Park let me come and drive”, “Are you aware you have left your lane”, “You are just a menace to Lagos streets”, "You drive like a bank robber", You must have been a car smuggler in your past life", “Your license should be revoked“ I’m never letting you drive again, ever”.

 He will drone on and on. But I usually have the same response for him just like everyone else, “But did you die or have an accident”?

Now you should understand me; I am the number one, okay maybe number two, fine maybe not in the top thirty, but an ardent follower of road regulations. I believe in maintaining one lane from the beginning of a road till the end of a road, well, except a truck breaks down and we are all redirected to join another lane, just that when I move on that particular lane, I move very fast and with precision.

Outside of that, I am a very vocal advocate of maintaining road sanity. Despite this belief though, I do not waste time on Lagos roads. When I drive, I drive with purpose, focus, determination and unbelievable calculation. And God bless anyone who dares to enter my lane. For me, driving is like success. To achieve it, you need an admirable level of focus, unwavering concentration, dogged determination, swiftness and precision.

And the way I drive is exactly the way I eat, write, think and birth scalable ideas, swift, fast and with concentrated precision. Hubby on the other hand is another story when it comes to eating, but thank God he makes up for his eating peeves with other important things I want him to.

Eating for me is an art form, a beautiful flow of movement that must be made with precision. From the minute the meal is ready to the time I serve myself and sit to eat, I work with careful shrewdness and precise clarity.

Before the meal is served, I get my tray ready, ensure the plates, cutlery and serviette is properly laid beside the tray, well cleaned and devoid of any stain, the glass cup is placed perpendicularly to the chosen dish and once I dish the meal, I clean any new stain either on the tray or the dish itself. The water in the glass cup has to reach a certain level to be allowed to make its way into my throat. And when I finally place the meal either in the living room or bedroom, the cooling unit or fan must be well regulated to ensure I don’t sweat. Then I press the ‘play’ button on either my laptop or TV to watch a selected movie that will match the pace of the meal I am about to consume.

I maintain that position until I am done with the meal. No change of movement, no change of hands, no interference from anything whatsoever (I believe it’s a sin to respond to calls or chats while eating.). And like a robot, I eschew external activities outside the goal of consuming that meal with respect and reverence.

For me, food is an art that needs concentration

Because of this rigid process I have adopted when eating, I concluded few days after my wedding that Hubby and I would probably never get to eat from the same plate. NEVER!!!!!

Many have tried though to romantically make us eat together. I mean, I have gone to some places where we were not even asked before we would see just one plate of rice and one soup bowl with maybe 2 pieces or 4 pieces of meat waltz into the room in the hands of the naive guest, depending on how (un)expected the visit was. Whenever situations like this occur, Hubby and I makes it clear with a very straight face that such should not repeat itself or we will start a family feud with the erring parties.

You see, the reason is not as a result of abundance of love or lack of it thereof. The reason is simply that: when it comes to food, Hubby and I are the opposites of two different coins from two different countries. When it comes to food, Hubby and I are like two peas in two different pods on two different trees. When it comes to food, I am Saturn, and Hubby is Uranus. I am Fire, Hubby is Ice. We simply do not blend. Because, just like my driving pattern, my food pattern reflects same: quick, prompt, swift, purposeful, determined and moving with a passion. 

Hubby on the other hand believes that after one spoon of rice or any meal he could be having, he is entitled to a return trip to all online websites, respond to some urgent official enquiries, whatever is showing on Sound-City, MTV Base or CNN, the latest series, who’s saying what on his BBM, have a heated BBM discussion with OSAKA on who’s hotter between myself, Amber Rose and Kim Kardashian, if any of his group chat buddies requires his urgent attention before finally coming to take the second spoon of meal and repeat the whole cycle. And after 3-4 hours of these activities, not only would I be done eating, I would already be thinking what next we should have for dinner or breakfast the next day.

Add a phone, a BBM charger, a tab and a DVD remote to the equation please

So most times when innocent couples get to pair us to enjoy a meal together from the same plates and soup bowls, the scenarios are usually the same, always, and at all times:

I remember one particular incident when we went to visit some friends which nearly began a civil war;

*A tray containing a plate of rice and another with stew was brought into the living room. Hubby and I looked on suspiciously as we expected our hosts to make another trip to the kitchen but got disappointed when they sat and grinned at us happily like they just saved our marriage by pairing our meals together. *

Hubby to Hosts: “E ku ise oh, ermm, may I ask why you put our food together?”

*I looked on belligerently at the guests waiting for justification of such anomaly*

Hosts: “*While still smiling lovingly and affectionately at us, they responded* Ahn ahn are you not husband and wife?”

Hubby: “Please next time let’s all respect ourselves o, THIS WAS WHAT CAUSED CIVIL WAR IN MOGADISHU”

Me: *Frowning, I noticed that one spoon was larger than the other but knowing well what to expect from Hubby, I gave him the larger spoon and took the smaller much but much more mobile one.

Hubby: I see you are feeling submissive today, you gave me the bigger spoon.

Me: * Still frowning* “Please let’s eat, I am hungry”.

Hubby: “The turkey and brokoto are for me o. You take the chicken and gizzard”

Me: *Continues eating as I take the 6^th round of spoon while he was still trying to get his phone from his pocket and adjust his sitting position*

Hubby: “You are too fast o. You are finishing the stew.”

Hubby: “He picks up his Tab, Phone, asks the guests for the TV remote and begins his round the world in a few hours journey as I eat with purpose, clarity and vision.

*While he does this, I quickly took half of the Turkey, a quarter of the brokoto and hid the remaining in the rice*

*He continues pressing his phone and doesn’t notice.

Me: “Sweety, eat fast na so we can clear this place on time.

Hubby: “Please don’t rush me o.”

Me: *Takes the final 24^th spoon of rice and stood to go to the living room area to gist with our guests.

*I am hardly out of the dining room area when I hear a scream “What happened to my chicken and Gizzard?”, hurrying away at what is about to come but unapologetic. I was just happy I had reduced the amount of time he would be spending on that dining table by assisting in eating his meat. I quickly started gisting with our guests while we waited for Hubby to round off.

*Very many years later after our last child graduates from Harvard and our guests have relocated to California, Hubby drops the well eaten turkey bone, took a final sweep of the brokoto bone with his tongue, wipes his mouth with his serviette and looks across to me where I’m already grey haired and rocking our fourth grandchild to sleep and says* “Baby I’m done eating”.

Na today! Shebi it’s Hubby.