We had only been dating for eight months, and most of the relationship had happened online. Endless texts, late-night calls, video chats that stretched into sleep, and whenever time allowed, we planned dates, ate together, took too many pictures, and returned home smiling sheepishly like teenagers in love.

Honestly, everything had been going well until one Friday evening when she sent me a message that changed the entire direction of the relationship.

“I’m coming to spend the weekend with you.”

I read it, and my whole body went warm with excitement. I cleaned my room twice, changed my bedsheets, sprayed air freshener everywhere, and spent the rest of the day grinning at my phone like a fool.

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She arrived around 6 p.m. carrying a basket full of food. Banku and okro stew. The kind that smells like home before you even open the container. While she unpacked the food in the room, I stepped outside to help her with the rest of her belongings.

There was nothing behind the trap door.

“Baby, where are the rest of your things? Will you go back for them?” I asked because she stays in the very next town, just about a forty-minute drive away.

“No,” she answered. I slowly walked back into the room confused. No?

So what exactly was she going to use while staying here the whole weekend? She did not answer, but somehow I immediately got the memo. She was going to share my towel with me and instantly, my stomach turned. I felt physically sick. Like genuinely nauseous. I wanted to vomit.

Nothing spoil though. I kept it demure.

That evening, after bathing, she used my towel and later when it was my turn to bath, I quietly used one random shirt of mine to dry myself. She noticed immediately and asked why I was doing that. I quickly diverted the conversation because there was no way I was going to say what was really on my mind.

While preparing for bed, I realised she had not used deodorant either. I even offered her mine politely, hoping she would understand the assignment, but she refused.

“I don’t use deodorant or spray when going to bed,” she said.

The entire night, I did not want my skin touching hers. I felt nauseated by her smell. I could not cuddle her. Could not move close. Could not even relax comfortably in my own bed.

See, my expectation is very simple. As a woman, I expect you to smell fresh, clean and nice. Not necessarily expensive perfume everywhere, but at least clean enough that your partner wants to get close to you willingly.

Then at dawn, she started throwing her legs on me and pushing me to my corner of the bed. I immediately got up from the bed with my pillows in my hands.

She asked me why I was leaving the bed, and honestly, I had nothing else to say except the truth because apparently the truth sets us free.

“No deodorant. No shuperu. No nothing,” I replied.

That was it. She did not say anything after that. She quietly packed her basket and left the room that morning.

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Unfortunately, I did not even follow her or beg her. I just closed the door behind her and returned to my sleep because my love for her quickly disappeared.

Maybe I sound harsh, but honestly, this is the 21st century. How do you visit your boyfriend for the weekend without at least putting on deodorant just to smell good?

Hope I did not overreact.

—Caleb
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