The Men Before Kayode

I had options, but my father had a plan…

Kayode wasn’t my first choice. He wasn’t even my third. He was just the only one my father was going to accept.

Left to me, I’d have been on my next adventure with David. My shuga, the life of the party himself! There was never a dull moment with him. One minute I’m playing passenger princess on a helicopter, the next minute we’re gate crashing a Muslim nikkah or being chief mourners at a random burial ceremony, just because.

One time, he came to my house at 1am because his “plug” found a hot air balloon and swore that the view of the city at night would be elite. It was.

Another option was Kunle. Kunle the star maker! He knew everyone and anyone he didn’t know wasn’t important enough. As a fashion designer, he only dressed the best. With his practiced British accent and mocked humility, his favourite phrase was, “it’ll be an honour to style you!” Honour? The only honour in the room was you wearing his designs and everyone knew it, even the client.

So when Kunle approached me on one of my solo dates, I played it cool, someone to practice my nonchalance with. Pompous men hate being ignored, especially by beautiful women. Kunle was no different, and I wanted to see his breaking point.

If I’m being honest, Datoru was the love of my life. My first adult love. But Datoru wanted to “humble” me. He wanted a submissive and quiet woman, I was wild and loud, so approaching me was almost like a game to him, one of cat and mouse that I found myself trapped in longer than I’d like to admit. He had charm, a sweet talker. He took it upon himself to show me around Port Harcourt during my visit, Bonny festivals had me so intrigued that I wanted to see more, know more, experience a part of the world through his eyes.

But one thing my father taught me, was to love with my eyes wide open. So when Datoru ridiculed my fisherman soup in front of his friends, I knew it was time to go.

It was my first time cooking the soup and cooking for a man. It was also my last time.

I was many things, but a man’s social experiment? Never.

Emeka would have been a perfect match. He worshipped the ground I walked on, everything I wanted, he got it. In an attempt to call his bluff, I told him my love language was receiving gifts, told him he couldn’t afford me and the next thing I knew, a gold matching jewellery set was delivered to my house.

Everyone knows that the first gift is just for “show” so a quick “is that what you’ve got?” text was enough to ruffle feathers and put me on the next flight to Brazil.

Men vs their egos has always been my favorite game to play.

He treated me like a Queen, but his mother didn’t like me, she tagged me a witch and presented me to God, asking HIM to “remove the jazz from her son’s eye”. It would have been fun to stay longer and see her breaking point, but I didn’t care for the drama so I left.

Maybe if he had fought for me, I’d have reconsidered. But he let his mother’s prayers win. That told me everything I needed to know.

I kept checking her prayer channels to see if she’ll “give her testimony” but I soon got distracted by Remi.

Remi was a fabulous painter, I never knew how sexy colors were until I met him. I booked a self care day and stumbled upon an art gallery, what some might call a hidden gem. It was quiet so I studied the paintings and tried to etch each one into my memory, only to be startled with a good looking man and a bottle of red wine.

For our third date, I asked for a boudoir painting session and that was the hottest day of my life.

But Remi was fun, someone to experience and no one’s to claim.

So it was fun while it lasted.

I met Kayode on my visit to Nigeria, my father’s inauguration ceremony to be precise. I was making my greeting rounds and spotted him beside my father, chatting and laughing for minutes on end. I knew it wasn’t going to be long until we had a formal introduction. But Kayode was a politician, aiming for a seat at the house of reps, and I wasn’t interested in being a right hand man or sinking my roots in a country I only enjoyed passing through.

So Kayode was an immediate no.

If only I knew what was coming for me.

They spotted me in the distance and I was summoned. My father, like me, is many things but impatient tops the list.

No one keeps him waiting, not even me, his only child.

My eyes focused on my father and he introduced me to Kayode, “Tiaraoluwa meet your husband.”

Husband? I looked at Kayode and his smile was knowing, as if he’d been expecting this. My father’s voice had always been law, but I had never been a woman who followed orders.

Not blindly, at least.

If I was going to be a pawn in a chess game, I needed my win to be fatter than the king’s.

“What’s in it for me? Why should I marry you?”

Kayode was confident, never one to back down from a challenge. He met my gaze, steady, sure of himself, and recited his credentials like a man who had rehearsed this moment.

“I graduated from Howard University and majored in political science. I’m 33 and own five properties. Two in the US, three in Nigeria. I own a bakery and a cocoa farm. I’m on three directory boards, and I clearly come from wealth. I need to kickstart my political career and deepen my roots in Nigeria. Your family name will give me what I need.”

He paused, then leaned forward, lowering his voice like he was about to tell me a secret.

“In return, you’ll receive three properties in your name, co-ownership of my assets, and 21,000 US dollars every three months. After we get married, we’ll get to know each other for a year, and then you’ll decide if you want to keep the marriage open or stay with me.”

I let his words settle, watching the room. My father, smug, believing he had secured the perfect match. Kayode, amused, thinking this was a game he had already won.

I had seen this before. The calculated ambition of Emeka, the self-assured charm of Kunle, the quiet dominance of Datoru. They all thought they had something I couldn’t resist.

I tilted my head, allowing a slow smile.

“That’s a generous offer. But tell me, Kayode, what exactly do you bring to the table that I can’t buy for myself?”

I watched his smirk falter just slightly.

And just like that, the game began.

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