NK’s Diary
“That will be six thousand Naira ma,” said the cashier.
“Excuse me, please what did I buy o?” I started to pull things out of the shopping basket. “Small chicken, tub of yoghurt, biscuit and bread. Now now, 6k? I didn’t kill Buhari’s child o, egbami,” I lamented under my breath.
I had no choice but to hand over my ATM card since I was holding up the line, as the cashier had pointed out. But I did it with so much reluctance. Inflation these days mocks me in Naira bills.
So here I am sharing my woes when we haven’t even been properly introduced yet. My name is Teminikan, but my friends call me NK. You can call me NK too.
Can you already tell that I ramble a lot? Well, it’s not that I’m scatter-brained; I just always have so much going on in my head that I want to let out all at once. Anyway, you can’t complain because that’s why you’re here, to listen to my ramblings without judging me.
Back to my intro: I’m NK, and I work as a senior copy editor for Galway Group, an up-and-coming advertising firm in Lekki. I’ve worked at Galway since I graduated from University a few years ago. Not to brag but I’m one of the select few who can spend an obscene amount of cash and not feel a thing—even though inflation hits us all at a point. All in all, I would call myself pretty successful but that’s just me. My mother believes that at the ripe old age of 28, I’m way past my marriage due date. I am now “a dusty old book on the shelf of the unmarried.” But really, that’s her business.
I like to think of myself as smart, as a woman with a good head on her shoulders. Unlike my mother I don’t care so much about religion. I do care about fitness, although I only work out when I’m in the mood. My conscience is my business, and I don’t put much stock into what other people think about me, and as you can imagine, my mother hates this.
You might be thinking, why this entire back story? Even more importantly, why all this talk about my mother? Well, everything about my mom is essentially irrelevant, but you need to understand where I’m coming from to appreciate this journey we’re about to go on. After all, it isn’t every day that a well-bred girl like me slept with her friend’s husband and wouldn’t mind doing it again and again and again… and again.
***
As I walked out of the supermarket aka money guzzling demon from the pit of hell, I saw a familiar car parked on the opposite side of the road and out came a familiar figure.
“Sasa P!” I screamed as I crossed the road. “Mumu girl, so you’re back in this country and couldn’t even call me? I suppose slap you.”
I hugged my skinny friend as she explained that she had only arrived a few days prior and was trying to “get her bearings.” She had just gotten married, and needed to get used to being around Mr Sugar all the time. There was some chitchat, and then it was time to go.
“Alright girl, see ya around. Call your girls o, we’ll be waiting,” I said as I bid her goodbye.
I crossed back to my own car, dumped my bags on the passenger seat, and zoomed off. I played Naira Marley’s latest banger and reminisced on how Sasa and I became friends.
***
Salma (Sasa P to her friends) was a second year Business Administration student when I was in my first year at University. She had been one of those daddy’s girls with their own cars on campus, always being trailed by her suck-up squad. She had it all, the looks, the money, the popularity, so imagine my surprise when I found her seated beside me in Communication 102 class. Yes, this almighty campus beauty was re-taking a course meant for first-year students!
I had snickered and thought to myself, “So she doesn’t even know anything,” and as if she could hear me loud and clear, she turned to me and said, “I was ill on the day this exam was taken and couldn’t write it last year. Mind your own business.”
In that moment, a feeling of shame washed over me but I covered it well, nodded and minded my business. We didn’t have any reason to talk to each other anymore until we were paired for a project midway into the semester. The project would count for half of our final grade. We would meet to discuss our presentation strategies several times in the week, and we found that we had quite a lot in common. She was funny and spontaneous, and like all rich kids, she didn’t like being labelled as one. Needless to say, we aced our project presentation and passed the course.
By the next year, I had moved into her room to save myself rooming costs. I got to realise that what I had thought of as her ‘suck-up’ squad were actually a couple of intelligent and talented ladies that were a lot of fun to be around. By the end of my second year in uni, we were known as The Four. All three of them graduated before me but we remained as close as ever. We always met up at least once a month, even when Boma, one of us, travelled out of the country to do her Masters.
***
As I got home and parked in my compound, I group-called Boma and Precious (our number four) and informed them of the lovely surprise I found at the supermarket.
“Girls, she was glowing,” I was almost screaming into the phone as I opened my door with one hand and balanced my phone on my shoulder. “If this is what marriage does to skin, I wan marry too abeg.”
Boma and Precious laughed at me and Boma replied, “You that you’re too busy sampling Lagos boys.”
“I take exception to that please,” I told Boma. “I only sample men, not boys. Boys wouldn’t know what to do with me even if they could have me.”
“Well done, Madam Boys 2 Men. Did Sasa at least mention when we would meet up? That girl owes us gist abeg,” Precious started. “Plus I need an excuse to get away from this little devil masquerading as my son. When are you even coming for a visit self, Aunty NK? Didn’t you promise this weekend?” Precious is a stay-at-home mum to the most adorable godson one could ask for, but she was right that he did sometimes double as the antichrist with all his mischief.
“I’m coming tomorrow ma, sorry ma,” I laughed at Precious. “Sasa said she’ll give us a call in a couple of days so I would guess a midweek lunch is in order. Let her keep basking in newly wedded bliss o,” I said in response to Precious’ question. We exchanged our goodbyes and I once again promised to come over to Precious’ Ikoyi mansion to spend some time with my godson.
Of the four of us, I was the only single friend. Precious had gotten married to the love of her life just after uni. They had been dating for two years. She had her son a year after. Boma was in a committed relationship, as she had been for the past 5 years. I sometimes called her Lord of The Rings because her fiancé, Muna, had proposed to her two years prior and had somehow not followed up with a wedding. According to Boma, he was trying to “get all his affairs in order.” Of course he was. And Sasa, as I mentioned, was newly wedded to her man of 2 years, Adeola. I actually met Adeola first on vacation in Ghana, but when he met Sasa, it was love at first sight. Or, at least something close to that. I humbly bowed out of the race and allowed them to carry on loving each other. Now they were married, and I wished them the very best of married life.
Want to come finish this later offline?
Sasa eventually called us on Monday and we arranged to have our girls’ lunch in the middle of the week. Sasa regaled us with stories of her vacation in the Cayman Islands with the love of her life. She told us about how romantic and attentive Ade was, and how getting married had been the best decision for them. When we were done, we all parted ways to go about the rest of our day.
Fast-forward a few days, and I was at one of my favourite clubs on Piccadilly street in Lekki where I spotted Adeola with a woman that was surely not his wife. Ade led his dance partner to the bar, then they went and sat at a table. I surreptitiously moved after them and settled at a point where I could watch the ongoings at that particular table. They were eventually joined by a couple of other guys and girls, and I realised that Sasa was at the club, and she had just been dancing with someone else. My date for the night was demanding my attention and so I just shrugged and went off to do my own thing. Whatever I thought I had seen was none of my business if Sasa was there and having fun as well by the looks of it. I drank my drinks, danced my dances, and went home when I was done.
So you can imagine how confused I was as well when I received a call from Adeola the next day asking me to lunch.
I told you before that I had met Adeola first, right? Well, I had been on vacation in Ghana and it was my first time there. I was very eager to sample the local delights, both human and otherwise, so I didn’t spend a lot of time in my hotel room. I made a friend, Kwesi, on one of my nightly jaunts about town, and he had made it his mission to ensure that I had a great experience in Ghana.
On the night before I was to leave to come back home to Lagos, Kwesi took me to an underground club in Kumasi. The lights were dim, and the air was hazy. I was in heaven because this meant that I could lose my home training and just be wild. And so I did. I was downing shots like my life depended on it and grinding on anybody in my vicinity. At some point, I was sandwiched between two men. Then one of them whispered in my ear, asking me if I would like to go back to his room with him, and I said yes.
I found Kwesi and told him about the new development. He took down the guy’s hotel details and bid me good luck. On the ride to the hotel, I found out the guy was Nigerian and on vacation just like me; we were even scheduled to be on the same flight back home. It felt like the hand of fate, and so I went back to his hotel room with him and we did the do. And we did it well. And we did it again and again. After our night of doings, we agreed to meet at the airport after I got my things from my hotel.
When we landed in Nigeria, my girls were waiting for me at the airport. As I chatted away with Ade about something funny that had happened on the flight, I noticed that I no longer had his attention. Instead, he was focused on an equally slack-jawed Sasa. I introduced them, and then we parted ways; but not before I had planted a kiss on Ade that couldn’t be mistaken for anything but possessive. Yeah, this one was mine.
Ade and I developed a steamy relationship that involved plenty of dirty texts and commando moments at work. Let’s just say, if my front camera could speak, you would be getting more than an earful. Our naughtiness wasn’t limited to the phone though, and we would meet several times a week at my place, his place, or at a hotel for the weekend. Needless to say, it was one of the most exciting situationships of my life.
Yes, situationship. You see, Ade never promised me forever or a mansion on the moon. We were two adults who respected each other while being uninhibited around each other and enjoying ourselves to the fullest. So while I knew it was a good thing, I also knew it wouldn’t last forever. He was a nice guy, but I never really thought about him as ‘my guy’. And so, when I spied him on a date with Sasa at a new restaurant in Ikoyi that I had decided to check out, I felt nothing beyond a momentary pang of loss as I remembered the airport moment.
They were both great people and deserved love from each other if that was what they shared. And so, I put on my big girl panties and strolled over to say hi. The rest as we know it is history. So what if I wonder what could have been every once in a while? The cookies have crumbled and they didn’t fall on my plate; and I love my friend. I would never knowingly hurt her for my own gain.
Back to this lunch with Ade. I wore an old dress and a pair of heels, and I made my way into the restaurant for my mysterious date. Ade was already seated at a table when I got there. Marriage looked good on him as well.
I settled into the seat opposite him and ordered a drink. Ade was smiling but I just kept quiet. Eventually he started talking. He talked about how meeting me was the best thing that had ever happened to him, and how his marriage to Sasa was a blessing, and he got very confusing after that.
I was getting angry, trying to understand where he got off inviting me to dinner just to gloat about how he chose my best friend over me. Ade get mind, that’s all I can say. I felt I’d heard enough and was getting ready to leave when he finally got to the point: his marriage was not all he had hoped it would be even though he loved his wife dearly.
Ghen ghen ghen ghen, what am I hearing? Marriage of how many weeks? That’s how I sat down to hear his story. He proceeded to tell me how he likes his sex a certain type of way and Sasa is a straight shooter. This was interesting, but not information I actually needed to hear. Then he said that he wanted me to teach his wife how to please him in bed. My mouth was literally on the ground.
Would you believe Ade waited for me to get over my shock and then repeated his question? I kid you not, I was trying to get myself together and he said, “I mean it NK. If anyone can teach Salma how I like to be handled, it’s you.”
Omo, see me see anger. I mean, not only is this guy speaking the unspeakable but my best friend had this kind of issue in her very new marriage and I had to hear it from her husband? Anyway, I just grabbed my purse, stood up and walked out of there. I needed to think.
As I drove home, I kept playing Ade’s words in my head. Even though she didn’t know what had happened tonight, I still felt so embarrassed for Sasa. I’d done some weird stuff but maybe this one was too much. At the same time, being the person that I am, I thought to myself, “If I knew that I had the power to potentially save my friend’s marriage, wouldn't I do everything I possibly could to help her?” But this did sound like a little too much help, in my opinion. In the same vein, I kept replaying how much of a dynamite Ade was in bed and how it had been a while since I was handled like that. Please remember that you still have no right to judge me, a girl has needs after all.
***
Should I do it? What do you think?
