There is a war going on in my house. Well…maybe I can’t really call it a war. It may just be some territorial aggression…or as some countries like to call it, a “humanitarian intervention”. Either way, in this situation, I’m the country being attacked and effectively invaded by a superpower. My wife, of course, is the superpower. This is a war without nuclear bombs, RPGs, mines, or remote controlled drones. No…her tactics are far, far worse than that.
The Last Battle…
Last week I fought a mighty battle. And by “fight” i mean that I put up little to no resistance at all. Here’s how I remember it….
I was on leave from my permanent duty station known as “The Office” and spending the time in a rest place known to locals as “The Sofa”.
The Sofa was isolated and inviting….the perfect oasis for a battle worn soldier like myself. I enjoyed its solitude and sought to spend time discovering the workings of the flat device permanently placed in front of it for the use of soldiers. The technical wonder known as “The Television”.
With it, I could connect to the world and receive news of other husbands, a.k.a. troops stationed out in various homes. I could also be entertained and shut out the stressful world I lived in, even if it was only for a few hours.
That night, I was alone on the sofa, when suddenly things got eerily quiet around me. They say that, in the wilderness, when a predator approaches, all of the smaller animals flee. Here, there were no animals, but the air was still and heavy…and I was filled with the sudden desire to run.
Then I heard it…
Her footsteps approaching the perimeter outside the sofa. Each *slap slap* sound of her slippers hitting the floor, spelled out my impending D-O-O-M. By the time the sounds stopped, it was too late to run, and there was nowhere to take cover. So, like a soldier I decided to face my fate bravely and braced myself so as not to give out any signs of fear.
There she stood. In all her militant glory. The look on her face made it clear that she had come for the television and would not rest until she had control of it.
Her first shot came quickly. She wanted the element of surprise, no doubt.
“NH….” she said…”What are you doing?”
It was a warning shot. I’d faced her in battle before and knew her style, so I knew this shot would be quickly followed by many others, depending on my response.
As I prepared to respond, it dawned on me that certain destruction lay before me. So I could either go down without a fight…or remain defiant until the end.
I chose defiance.
I ignored her question.
In the moment of silence, I saw her face tighten and her eyes dilate. My lack of response was the worst thing I could have done to her. She hates to be ignored.
My move tripped her up momentarily, so she hesitated briefly. Then she fired another warning shot.
“NH…I said what are you doing?” she asked again.
Still I ignored her. My palms became sweaty and I started to blink nervously. I knew I was a fool to use this tactic. but I was determined to go down in history as the bravest fool there was.
At my second refusal to answer. Her eyes grew even darker and I could see her gears spinning. She stretched for a bit, paced a few steps then moved into Phase Two of the attack.
She sat next to me.
A clever move. She was wearing that perfume. The one that was tantamount to a chemical weapon the way it laid waste to my senses. Temporarily dazed by the scent, I had to slap my knee with the remote to remind myself to regain my senses…and remain strong. Just like they’d taught us in training.
She watched my face. She knew I was trying to resist so she moved in for the kill. She snuggled in closer, burrowing against me…and decided to watch the show with me. I remained still. Even when she wrapped her legs around me. Sweat started to trickle down my forehead. “What’s he doing now?” She asks the question about the main character. A smooth move, but I wasn’t quite sure of the answer, given her distractions. I try to figure it out but suddenly she asks.. “Naijahusband, why are you ignoring me? I asked what he’s doing!” “He’s trying to get the bad person to confess.” I reply. I was obviously just making it up at that point. “But why did he stick a needle in her throat?” She responds, undeterred by my confusion. “I don’t know dear.” Is he a bad guy or good guy?” “He’s neither really…It’s complicated.” She watches for a few more minutes. No doubt recharging her ammunition. Then she starts back up again. “Is he really her husband? What kind of woman would agree to marry him? Hmmm?” Not thinking this is a rhetorical question, I keep silent again. “Naijahusband, tell me now. What kind of man is that? If it was you would you agree to marry him?” “I’m not a woman dear…so I can’t really say.” “You don’t have to be a woman! Just try and picture it.” “But you know I don’t really like hypotheticals…” Her phone rings and the battle is halted momentarily as she stands up to get the call. She’s back in no time though and when she makes her second entrance, someone on the screen is in a sexually compromising situation. She glances at me with the dirtiest of looks and says: “What is this rubbish you’re watching? Why are all your shows so deviant?” “That scene just came on…I didn’t know they’d do that!” I replied in a hurry. But I already know my defense was useless, so I change to another program. One with a female star. I figure that should appease her. But she watches the first five minutes, wrinkles her nose and says: “She’s not even fine sef. Why do you even watch this show? Do you think she’s fine?” She leaves me no time to respond before her next shot/question. “Really? Really? She’s going to race like that in heels? “Who on earth would actually see danger and run TOWARDS it? Only in Hollywood!” The female star is blocked off by a bunch of terrorists and fights them in hand-to-hand combat. It’s obvious these writers are just determined to give my wife something to rant about because Naijawife’s blood vessels nearly pop. “Fighting 10 men? in skinny jeans? HAHAHA! LIES! That’s why I prefer Nollywood to Hollywood! If these Oyinbo plots were more realistic. She would have at least removed her shoes,wig and earrings before entering a fight! What is this?” I stay silent. Over the next few hours, her attack continued. I was virtually defenseless but even though she knew my state, she did not spare me. Her rapid fire, machine gun style questions came anyway. Relentless and unending. Any questions that didn’t leave heavy shell damage were simply reinforced by nasty glances, sarcastic remarks, side eyes and heavy sighs. Occasionally, I would try to wave the white flag but she would simply crush it into the ground underneath her feet. She didn’t want a simple defeat. She wanted total conquest. Finally, just when I thought I could take no more…she walked off. I dared to hope that she would retire for the night and end this ceaseless battle, but she soon came back into the room quietly. Any hope I’d had for a reprieve died a sudden death when Naijawife stepped back in front of the TV… All clothes off. As she rotated slowly in front of the television, I could barely make out the words of her next question….probably because the blood was rushing to my ears. I was utterly defeated. I switched the TV off.