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!
