Back in the day when getting drunk still constituted an integral part of my idea of a good time, (i.e that period of time between shortly after birth and right this minute,) I happened to discover that getting drunk at night made good times even better.
In addition, I also observed that drinking at night in the company of friends increased the incidence of fun almost exponentially.
And the beauty of it was, it never involved too much of a hassle. At that time, all there was to it was getting hold of a reasonable amount of cash, getting hold of the guys and voila! You were set for an evening of boy fun, bonding and, sometimes just for the heck of it, limited escapades of the erotic kind. All in all, it was maximum returns for limited input, and for a few short hours every week, we could just drop out of circulation without having to notify anyone and enjoy some priceless quality time with the crew.
Such was the trend of my life until one time in a moment of pure insanity; I made a profound, but in view of the uncontrollability of the emotions involved, very inevitable mistake. I became a sucker for some silly feelings the looks and bearing of a certain female invoked in me....
...and like a certified idiot, stupidly invited her to be a part of the general set-up of my life.
At the time it seemed like a pretty good idea, but all bad ideas, it must be remembered, start life as pretty good ideas. This was no exception, and in no time flat I was already wondering why the hell I hadn't put stock on our MPs' commitment to having their allowances taxed while I was at it.
How bad an idea it was came fully home when slowly but with a regularity that was almost terrifying, I started noticing curtails to my freedom that I'd hitherto never had to deal with when I was still single. In other words, whereas previously I’d held the inalienable right to do whatever I pleased in whichever way that pleased me within the confines of my walls, I increasingly noticed that although theoretically I was still the boss of my crib, theory was just about how far it got. For example:
1. My Nintendo lost its prime, convenient location beside the TV to a potted plant that my new girlfriend came along with, apparently for aesthetic improvement of the TV area. When I very logically posited that whatever aesthetical value someone might seek from a TV area would likely derive more from what beamed out from the TV than from an item of bottled vegetation that stood beside it, my argument was given the kind of consideration You would likely reserve for statements from particularly dim-witted politicians before being summarily dismissed, and the potted plant stayed.
2. Next to go was the bathroom, which succumbed to a barrage of every cosmetic known to man.
3. It was closely followed by the toilet, which was sacked by a new law that made the replacement of the toilet seat after use mandatory, something I was quite admittedly not used to.
4. Clearly marked compartments in the closet for the different genres of clothing, compliance with which conjugal privileges were subtly attached, then put to rest whatever lingering doubts that may have existed as to who really was in charge of the bedroom.
5. As for the kitchen, I never even had authority there when I was still in joyous bachelorhood, so that was lost without a single shot being fired.
But much as I found the annexation of my abode distasteful at the very least, I nevertheless put up with it because for some inexplicable reason borne out of the most incredible naivety, I actually believed co-habiting with my girlfriend was a cool thing to do. Oh, the torture men can endure when they think they are in love!
However, there are lines that any man conversant with the Brothers’ Code will never cross, and I finally got to that line when my girlfriend, not content with subduing me inside my own house, extended her campaign to include what I did outside the house.
At first, it was seemingly innocent inquiries into the details of my Saturday nights out with the guys, which stealthily mutated into what amounted to background checks on the members of my clique. This steadily devolved to veiled attacks on the character of my friends she didn't approve of, and finally, the gloves came off and she actually demanded that I cut off links with a couple of my childhood bosom buddies, or call it quits with her.
Some things you just don't ask a guy to do unless you carried him in your womb for nine months and raised him and even then, your right to make such demands of him ends from the very second he joins high school.
Well, this girl didn't share a single characteristic with my mother, and the last time I saw the inside of a high school classroom, KANU still had enough seats in parliament to form a government.
Well, I it was a choice between freedom and bondage. A no brainer, really, which choice I made!