Diary Series: Twerk your but
I love to dance, a lot. And it’s going to be lit tonight. There’s a all-night dance contest somewhere in G.R.A at 9pm. The ticket’s quite expensive for a dance contest. I’m not sure, this is my first. To watch, you get a ticket for two thousand naira, while if you’re contesting you’ll get one for five thousand naira. Something about it being a valentine special.
I’m still debating if I’ll just watch or get in the action. You know, the strike has just been called off, I can spend some. I’m still full, cash wise. Boyfriend wise, I lost my boyfriend yesterday evening. Why do people do that? Break up with you just before the big day? Not like valentine’s much of a big day for me, that is, if it wasn’t also my birthday. So you see, this dance is my treat. Have you noticed I sound like a loner? I am. I’m friendly, but I don’t keep friends. I’m semi popular too. Loners are popular people somehow, I don’t know why.
I made a dance video last night after Mike broke up with me. You’re not going to believe it, but we had just made slow passionate love at his place. Then he goes,
“Dance seems like the most important thing to you”
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I’m putting my earrings back on. “Yes. What’s this about?” He has always tried to talk me out of dancing. He says I’m making it into an obsession. He’s supposed to be my obsession. I think it’s ridiculous, but I’ve never said that, I wish I have.
“I can’t cope anymore with those guys leering at your body, all over social media, in school functions, everywhere. It feels like you’re something public” That stung. But I laughed.
“More like they can see but not do anything about it.”
“How about that Adam guy”
“I’ve told you we were just dancing”
“And he had his hands on your waist”
I really want to roll my eyes and arrggh. But I smile.
“We were just dancing Mike.” I say, nonchalantly, striking a purple one over my lips staring in the mirror, Mike behind me. I’m beautiful, I say in my mind and smile some more.
“I can’t cope with it, Ada” My name is Dada. D.A.D.A. I almost scream. I hate it when he calls me Ada, but I’ve never said.
“So what do you want?” I’m clipping my hair so it doesn’t get in my face. My body is calm-sedated from the lovemaking.
“It’s over. I’m breaking up with you”
I stand and face him.
“Tomorrow’s my birthday, Mike” I say calmly like that even makes sense. I want to throw something. Break his vanity mirror.
“I don’t know, happy birthday.” He says looking away. Then I see it, I should have known all along, but I just saw it then, woman-instinct, there is another woman. Not like I care, but I should.
“Have a happy life” I say taking my bag from the table, hug his rigid frame, get out of his house managing to shut the door calmly, getting back home, set up the camera and dance. What I called my break-up dance. I cried and danced, but it was a good cry. Social media reaction was soothing, in many ways. Even the bad belle comments made me laugh and cry. I mean, I don’t have a bestie I can call over.
Dance is beautiful. Especially when the music doesn’t come from the stereo but from your head, and you’re twisting and whining and twerking every curve in your body. O boy! Dance is my defense mechanism. It’s the wall I put up. Dance is me. I’ve become my own walls. Gibberish, right?
I’ll love to be happy every time, but a lot get in the way. Like my parents’ divorce, like my brother’s suicide, like my stupid relationship choices, like my walls. A lot of stuff. I used to keep it low key, hope it goes away. But it never did. Until I discovered I could twerk my but away. Very silly.
Sincerely though, there are a lot of buts in my life, but I can dance them away. And I do. And I will again tonight.
“Happy birthday, Dada”
I’m just waking up.
No ...Nne. Not drinking water. I meant water to bath" I furrowed my brow. The shower was working. "But there's water in the shower" I had said. "Oh, is there?" He asked. Things had gone blurry from there. Me going to the bathroom to show him how to use a shower he had been using for over a week, his strong arms wrapping itself around me, his lips descending on mine like water falls....
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My bedside clock says the time is 4pm. They’re so many people in my room. And afro music too. Thank God I slept in my trouser and T-shirt. My eyes adjust to being awake. The people should be over 15 or more. I see Mike. Then the others, most of them from my faculty. I lie back in bed. This is a dream. They’re laughing and dancing. I don’t know whether to be happy. Mike sits on the bed, holding my hand.
“Is this some sort of prank?” I ask, smiling, I must look very stupid, not like I care.
“Sort of. I know it’s dumb. I’ll never break-up with you. I just wanted to surprise you.” I roll my eyes then. I can’t help it.
“The dance contest at G.R.A” He says it like a question. I raise a brow, how’d he know
“You won’t be in the contest” Okay, okay. I’m saying in my mind wondering if this is part of the prank. When I didn’t say anything he makes me sit on the bed, and kiss me.
“The dance is for you. We organized it as your birthday party”
“That sounds really stupid Mike. But I love it” I kiss him hard on his lips.
“These folks will love to see you dance. They made it happen”
“Of course. Now?” He nods. I get out of the bed, everyone stops dancing and start to clap like they’ve been waiting for this. I don’t mind the music, I just start dancing and whining and twerking to the music in my head. In reality, I’m twerking my but away. I can be happy, but nothing.
Story by: A. W. Supreme
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