The good, the bad, and the Lagos – 004

The good, the bad, and the Lagos – 004

If you want to be the stuff Lagos is made of, you better be able to take the heat like LeBron. And if you don’t get that emphasis, you ain’t got the stuff of Miami either.

But, in any case, when Friday night comes by in this town, any girl could make any bad boy good for the weekend.

If she has no plans, best believe she has a blank space in her heart for your name – unless someone calls dips before you, of course.

You snooze, you lose.

And if you snooze, you could throw down a dozen shots of Remmy Martins, you’re still only going to be drunk on Horny.

But why elect for horny if you can find you some pretty honey.

So, that exact year of coming full bloom with my liberty to raid the night, I learned the lesson half way through the night.

My friend and I had been out clubbing. Unlike, he was already a man with chips on his shoulders to show his experience. You could see this from the manner he vibed with the attendants – pulling them closer by the waist, flashing that knowing smile, and rubbing their butts as they sauntered along. My abject withdrawal to myself told the full short story about my inexperience.

He went off a while later, and returned with two girls.

One was for me.

Now, normally, I’d vibe with any girl under other conditions. But a club girl, inside a vibrant and defeaning club, with flaming locks on her head, and lipsticks so bright that they were louder than her voice was a different sport. Even so, I’d die before anyone thought I could not chat up a girl. So I talked about Bitcoins.

Don’t judge me, it was a toothing phase.

To cut the long story short, the girls came home with us. I would never know if she fancied me, or whether it was just the extension of my friends magnanimous influence.

When we were set to get down to the show of the night, she asked me to pay ahead. She asked for 10k.

I didn’t have cash, so I went ask my friend if he did, so I could transfer to him. But as soon as he heard 10k, he flipped.

“For wetin? You wan make okpo run you foreign for jungle.”

I didn’t understand a word.

He went on to say we would pay the girls 1k each.

I thought I heard him wrong. “You wan make them vex go?”

“Leave that thing. Na where them dey go by three for night.”

“So…”

“Tell am say na 1k.”

I went back and mouthed the words. The girl blew the lid off and began to insult me. I thought I deserved it, but I wasn’t going to back down. This is Lagos, you have to be able to take the heat.

She ranted on and on.

However, I noticed that no matter how much she ranted, she wasn’t making to leave. Then, I figured my friend was right. They had no place to go in the darkest dim of night, not to mention the risk involved.

It was my turn to pun.

I asked her to pack up and go if the deal was off.

She didn’t.

I told her my friend was paying her friend in the other room the same amount. So it’s really the deal or goodbye.

She still didn’t get up. She was pensive for a moment. Then she sighed, shook her head, and told me we were wicked. Afterwards she fell on her back and beckoned me over, still with a frown on her face.

I was feeling guilty all through the rounds – three of them. I made a mental note to improve my offer to 3k. This is Lagos after all; things are hard here. Plus, she was also a decent lay.

We went to sleep at six o’clock.

Actually, barely.

Her phone began to ring nonstop. Every time it rang, she would mute it. And then it would ring again. I got frustrated with being repeatedly interrupted and commanded her to take her call.

She said she couldn’t.

“Why?”

“It’s my boyfriend. I’m sure he has gone to check if I slept at home.”

“Wait, what?”

“He’s always monitoring me. I’m even tired sef.”

The guilt in my head disappeared. I wasn’t the bad person here. And in the light of new information, the deal was worth no more than 1k.

This is the stuff of Lagos.

About The Author

Kingsley Alaribe is a Digital Marketer with 1stNews, and writes the weekly column, Strangers and Lovers. He is also a Data Scientist. Email: [email protected]

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