Four of us girls, we went out, by ourselves, in our little car. We drove to an empty club people were calling fashion themed. We walked in, there was a clothing store downstairs and a bar upstairs. We figured it fit? Anyway, we catwalked up the stairs, smizing fiercely, and there was maybe ten people up there. So we found ourselves a quiet corner (the dance floor) and we danced like no one was watching. Ha.
Some guy, some short guy, he walked up to me after an hour or so. He pulled me aside. He said, "Hey, what are you ladies doing in this dead place? Come with me if you want entry into the hottest club in Lagos." How could I resist. I rounded up the troops. We left.
I walked with him. I walked with him until we got to his car, and then I climbed in. I sat down. I put my seatbelt on. My friend, she showed up in the back seat. She said - after he got out 'for a second' - she said, "What were you thinking going into his car alone?"
"Oh." I said. And I thought. Because, oh, of course, that was silly of me. I never do that. Absolutely ever. But then, as I'd walked beside him, I hadn't been thinking at all.
He'd meant it literally when he said it was the hottest club. My bad, I guess, I'd forgotten to clarify. There was a narrow, low-ceilinged corridor with a short table in the middle of it. It was wide around the middle and crammed full of alcohol. In hindsight, I should have said that - about the table. He would have thought me clever. Instead he poured us all a glass of champagne and shuffled across the cracks to where his friends were, and so we left.
Halfway across the street he came out after me. He said, "Oh, are you leaving?" And so I smiled and said, "Yes." I know. I could have said, "What does it look like?" or, "No kidding, Einstein. What gave it away? The fact that I'm walking away from the doors of the club?" Instead I smiled and looked at him expectantly, thinking indifferent thoughts to mask the expectant ones. I think he heard it in the way I said yes, part question, part plea, and so he asked for my number. I didn't even think to front.
I think I was nineteen when it happened, but I was probably already twenty, so I can't even hide behind my age. He was engaged to be married. I was inconsolably smitten. Once, he asked me - in the middle of the night - he asked me to drive down to his. I said, "I don't have a car." In no language is that a no. So he picked me up, looked right at me, and said everything my eyes were begging him to say...and then I walked all the way home from Ikoyi to Yaba.
Some guy, some short guy, he walked up to me after an hour or so. He pulled me aside. He said, "Hey, what are you ladies doing in this dead place? Come with me if you want entry into the hottest club in Lagos." How could I resist. I rounded up the troops. We left.
I walked with him. I walked with him until we got to his car, and then I climbed in. I sat down. I put my seatbelt on. My friend, she showed up in the back seat. She said - after he got out 'for a second' - she said, "What were you thinking going into his car alone?"
"Oh." I said. And I thought. Because, oh, of course, that was silly of me. I never do that. Absolutely ever. But then, as I'd walked beside him, I hadn't been thinking at all.
He'd meant it literally when he said it was the hottest club. My bad, I guess, I'd forgotten to clarify. There was a narrow, low-ceilinged corridor with a short table in the middle of it. It was wide around the middle and crammed full of alcohol. In hindsight, I should have said that - about the table. He would have thought me clever. Instead he poured us all a glass of champagne and shuffled across the cracks to where his friends were, and so we left.
Halfway across the street he came out after me. He said, "Oh, are you leaving?" And so I smiled and said, "Yes." I know. I could have said, "What does it look like?" or, "No kidding, Einstein. What gave it away? The fact that I'm walking away from the doors of the club?" Instead I smiled and looked at him expectantly, thinking indifferent thoughts to mask the expectant ones. I think he heard it in the way I said yes, part question, part plea, and so he asked for my number. I didn't even think to front.
I think I was nineteen when it happened, but I was probably already twenty, so I can't even hide behind my age. He was engaged to be married. I was inconsolably smitten. Once, he asked me - in the middle of the night - he asked me to drive down to his. I said, "I don't have a car." In no language is that a no. So he picked me up, looked right at me, and said everything my eyes were begging him to say...
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