This is Naijawife’s Rebuttal piece to Bathroom Beef written by Naija Husband!
When I was a little girl, if my siblings annoyed me and I went to report them to my parents, they would allow me to rant and rave for a few minutes and then they would ask “So what did you yourself do to piss them off?” They knew that there were two sides to every story, and even if I wanted to pretend to myself that I was 100% blameless, I knew they were right. Let’s settle this bathroom Beef!
While NH has made me out to be the instigator of all the bathroom wahala, the truth is that NH started this bathroom beef, not me. But since he’s laid it on the table, let’s cook it up and serve it for dinner.
I do not deny that I love the shower. and I do not deny that I like to wander around my house doing a million things while the shower is still running. I am a woman. I multitask. I accomplish many things in the morning this way. No, I don’t consider it a waste of water. I consider it a “moisturization” of the home. Who needs a humidifier if you can run the shower?
I also do not deny that I insist he lotion his body. I want to run my hands down his back and not bleed afterwards. Is that asking too much? If he’s well oiled, he’ll look like
But if he doesn’t he’ll resemble.
Or even worse.
Yet, while i do not deny my bathroom behavior may be a bit much…the truth is that I myself have bathroom beef with NH. Or better yet. TOILET BEEF.
If I love the shower, then NH loves the toilet. I mean really, truly loves it. I have never met a man so in love with a toilet in my entire life.
Back in the days when NH was toasting me, he would come to visit me after work. I was always excited to see him and would have spent the day in preparation, knowing my sweetheart was coming over. Perfume, makeup, the dangly gold earrings I knew he’d always liked, my cutest clothes on (the best I could find on my student budget), I’d open the door slowly, without fail, as though to say “Look at me in all my hotness. I am all you should be interested in right now.” He’d hug me and his eyes would catch mine, acknowledging my “don’t you find me beautiful?” message briefly, but then they’d slowly glaze over as his head turned in the direction of the bathroom.
The tight hug he’d given me would loosen in its grip. He would adjust his tie, remove his jacket, pull out his shirt tails, grab a magazine and proceed to the bathroom.
For the next hour, I would sit crouched on the edge of my chair, waiting for signs that he was ready to come out. A telltale flush and the sound of running water would usually indicate that any normal person was ready to come out. But not so with NH, it just meant he was ready for round 2.
So much for a romantic evening. This happened every, single, time. there’s nothing more frustrating than sitting in a chair all dressed up and listening to the sounds of this same man you’re trying to hook as he ravishes your toilet. It’s a miracle we even stayed together given that most of our dating occurred with a toilet door between us. It got to a point that I was almost jealous of the porcelain goddess in my bathroom. That thing that had the power to hold his attention for hours, while I languished, waiting for her to “release him”. I probably should have seen it as a warning sign and run off….but the boy has powerful jazz and I stayed put with him.
But I still warned him, even back then, that if we ever married, we’d have to have separate bathrooms (thinking ahead of bathroom beef). Fast forward a few years later. We’re getting married and seeking out our future home. NH wanted to be cheap and said we should manage with a 1 bedroom, 1 bathroom. “After all”, he said, “We have no kids, we can just “manage” for now.”
Ok, so maybe I didn’t say “talk to the hand.” Maybe what I said was “Oh but darling if your mother comes to visit nko? Won’t she need her own bathroom? Do you want to inconvenience her by making her share with us?”
Ah he saw the light then, once I mentioned his beloved mum.
Just joking. His mum is nothing like Mama Dee on Love and Hip Hop Atlanta. His mum is more like.
Kind and sweet but still the Queen and in control. =)
NH can’t deny that I requested 2 bathrooms even before we married. Yes, it upped the cost, but I foresaw wahala if we didn’t have separate toilets. So we got the two bathroom flat, married, moved in and I thought my problems were over. Naturally, I assumed he would branch into the second toilet and leave me in peace with my own. But “love nwa titi” meant that Naija Husband came looking for my trouble in my own bathroom. Sneaking into my shower in the name of love. Jumping out again to save his skin. *Sigh*. I didn’t have the heart to kick him out at first, even though his toilet antics hadn’t decreased with marriage o. I managed to tolerate it sha….but then I made the huge mistake of buying him an IPAD Mini.
Biggest. Mistake. Of. My. Life.
IPAD is the destroyer of romance. Ladies, if your man loves the toilet. Don’t buy him an IPAD. He will use the IPAD as an excuse to double up on his time in there. Half the time he’s not even doing anything. He’s just thinking as he sits and unwinding the stress of the day. I understand that feeling because the shower has the same effect on me but NH goes above and beyond and uses the toilet to think, work, plan, browse and blog.
Some of you asked how he can sit still while I walk around naked. NH should have confessed that he’s usually too busy playing with this IPAD Mini to even notice my free peep show. to add insult to injury, he’s now asking me to buy him this:
At which point I decided it was time to move him permanently into the guest bathroom.
Sure, it may take me an hour to actually enter my shower but now that we have separate bathrooms, you’d think NH wouldn’t be late for work anymore. But he STILL IS. You know why? Because the whole time I’m running about getting a million things done, he’s only concerned with one task. His toilet. I may run the shower, cook a meal, surf the web, iron my clothes, pack some snacks, get clothes for work, and check our accounts all while I’m in the middle of “showering”, but NH will be where? Still-on-the-toilet. If we’re ever just chilling at home and he disappears for a while, I know he’s in the toilet. Not the bedroom, not the kitchen. The beloved toilet that I have promised myself I will one day smash to bits.
Do you know how many times I have said goodbye to my darling NH through a closed toilet door? Time without measure. I have grown accustomed to the sound of his honeyed baritone passing through the cracks of the door as he says “Have a great day at work darling. Love you!”
Love you too, hun.