HELP! MY WIFE IS A GUY! (SHORT STORY)
Disclaimer: This story is fictional and is not a window to my views on the matters discussed. Just having fun. Enjoy!
HELP! MY WIFE IS A GUY!
Yes, my wife’s a guy and it’s killing me! I’ve been living with this situation for twelve months and I just can’t take it anymore. When a man gets married, you want your better half to be docile, passive, unquestioningly loyal and cuddly.
But my wife is none of the above. She stands at 6 ft 2 inches and has an athletic build. That should have warned me to give her a wide berth but at 5 ft 4 inches, it scattered my head that a girl that tall would give me the time of day. Besides, I’m a strong advocate of improving the progeny, so I decided I wasn’t gonna look any further for my queen.
Then when we started dating, I found that we had so many interests in common. We both loved and played football, we could both hold our drinks very well and we had a sweet tooth, which translated to cake and more cake, fast food and all kinds of sugary treats. It was like falling in love with your twin. We had loads of fun alone as a couple and hanging out with the guys.
Trisha (my wife’s name) knew the game of football like the back of her hand: the history, the players, clubs, coaches, leagues and championships (home and abroad). I used to feel so proud when she would take on the guys on a controversial matter like the best lineup of players or formation for a match prior to the game and the eventual outcome would confirm she had been right.
But then we got married after two years and you would expect a woman to realise that being a wife is far different from being a girlfriend: the responsibilities are not the same and the composure, carriage and behaviour of the lady should denote her social elevation to the position of a home maker. Unfortunately, if my wife knows that she is married, I cannot tell except that I know she had been physically present when we took our vows and I see her cheerfully putting on her rings everyday.
[bctt tweet=”Love doesn’t always fit the mould we give it. #quote #love #marriage” username=”edithohaja1″]
To begin with, our domestic arrangements are far from satisfactory where they have existed at all (kitchenwise, I mean). I mentioned earlier that we had loved fast food but I quickly outgrew that unhealthy appetite as I eagerly marched towards matrimony. But my wife clung to her love for tasty treats and takeouts.
This was unacceptable to me but she convinced me it was cheaper to eat out than cook at home. She also said we’d enjoy better sex if we didn’t have to spend hours contriving and preparing meals. I certainly could not argue with that.
“Think of the mess that cooking creates,” she added. “Who would do the washing up?”
I’m sure you’re beginning to see why I say my wife’s a guy. I miss the uha with uziza soup my mum used to cook when I was young and the okazi with periwinkle. You don’t find that stuff at the eateries out there. I know how to cook those things quite alright and she doesn’t, but how can I enter the kitchen and be cooking when I have a wife? I had laughed when she told me during our courtship that she couldn’t cook but it’s not funny anymore. Seriously, why didn’t she go and learn before accepting my hand in marriage? My cousin, Ben, once asked if I’d given it to her as a condition beforehand. Stupid boy! What type of question is that?
Also, a young man wants to be free on weekends to watch matches with his mates, do some betting and drinking and come back to see the wife busy washing, cleaning and doing all those things women do around the house. But my wife knows all the fixtures and she hardly misses a match.
To make matters worse, she has a knack for supporting opposing clubs to mine. In the early days of our relationship, when I was an Everton fan, she picked another London club to back: Chelsea. And when I moved my affections to Manchester United, she chose city rivals, Man City as her club. It’s bad enough that she’s with me in the Viewing Centre shouting herself hoarse with the guys, she does not understand that a woman should stand by her man in all things, not publicly oppose him.
Today was the last straw. Atletico Madrid was playing its second leg match against Juventus in the UEFA Champions League. Twenty minutes into play, I observed that Altletico was looking good and would definitely ace the match. In response, Trisha predicted that Juventus would have an easy win, countering my analysis and projection. I was so angry that I called her Martina. (We have this joke in our circle of friends that a masculine-looking woman is Martina Navratilova, one-time tennis champion. It’s not meant to be a compliment. The dig is also a veiled reference to Martina’s lesbianism.) Everyone had a good laugh at Trisha’s expense.
You would expect a self-respecting female to be sullen, to give me hell for that jibe, possibly banish me from the bedroom for the night but not Trisha. The moment we got home, she was all over me. I wanted to hold back but our size difference meant I didn’t stand a chance. When I could catch my breath a half hour later and tried to apologize, she had difficulty knowing what I was talking about. When it dawned on her, this is what she said:
“You still dey remember that thing. Na waa for you oh.”
Then she rolled over and promptly fell asleep, adding some snoring into the bargain. All guy stuff! What right has she to fall asleep before me after we make love? My sister, Faith, tells me her husband does that while she goes to tidy the house against the next day. As I was lying down fuming, the bell rang and it was Ben, the cousin I told you asked me a strange question sometime ago.
I explained the matter to him since I didn’t really have anyone else to talk to and the whole thing was riling me. From what I’ve told you so far you should know that Ben’s head is not very correct because his response was:
“Ol’ boy, you should thank your stars!”
Imagine! Abeg, anybody that has good advice, sensible one, should drop it for me in the comment thread before I take a drastic decision. Thank you in advance.
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Ⓒ Edith Ugochi Ohaja 2017
uha, uziza and okazi are local vegetables
“You still dey remember that thing. Na waa for you oh” is Pidgin English for “Are you still remembering that thing? I’m surprised at you.” This may not be 100% accurate but it’s the best meaning I could come up with based on the context.
“Abeg” means “Please” in Pidgin English
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