I don’t quite remember the names of those machineries. Yes, I just called them machineries, they weren’t metallic and they weren’t bullets, in fact they weren’t anything you just imagined but they had similar functions. They were powerful tools, tools designed to do some powerful works that our normal female bodies could not ordinarily perform. 
That afternoon I was at the spa, in the sauna with Mrs Sawyer. She had dragged me to this spot in Lekki where I would later spend a five digit amount of money “nourishing” my body in preparation of my fiance release from the two weeks monthly labour camp he calls work. 
My tears had mixed with the sweat aroused by the heat of the sauna. The other women like Mrs Sawyer were all wearing gold wedding rings, slim figured and chatting like they had known each other before. I could barely force a smile, my mind was on my money and my money was on my mind. 
Then a slightly plumb woman brought out the “tools”, exciting the group of women clogging half naked beside me. Finally my attention was arrested, she brought out a jar filled with a watery substance labelled in Chinese. “For you” she said “use this to wash down below it doesn’t matter how many kids you have dropped, it would tighten it up, he will forget about those small girls, try it, it’s scientifically proven” she continued. All the women chattered in excitement. 
She brought out several beauty products suited for different parts of the body. They all rushed to grab the items paying huge amounts later with their ATM using the POS machine she brought.
When it was all over and we were out of the sauna, I batted an eye at Mrs Sawyer who had a bag filled with over N30, 000 worth of items. She leaned over me and smiled “darling, I hope someday you will understand that it’s hard work keeping your man”
Hard work? I beg to disagree, I thought the way to a man’s heart was simply through his belly. Momma always told me that sentencing me to decades of apprenticeship in the kitchen. I learnt how to make all manner of delicacies from the pepperish oily Yoruba food to Calabar vegetable rich food. Why I even learnt Italian food and Chinese dishes just because I wouldn’t want to weary my husband out with Nigerian carbohydrate starchy meals. 
But recently I was told at church that it didn’t guarantee your husband’s attention, right before I caught my pastors wife buying frozen Edikiakong soup at the supermarket, her marriage looked pretty solid irrespective. Indeed a woman who is a master chef in the kitchen but a boxer at home will have her delicious food cold without a man to eat it.
Character could top the list. My neighbour, mama Uche, how I love that woman! She was practically her husband’s servant. She was so respectful even when her husband came home late reeking of strange women. She is a perfect example of an home maker and wife. Her home was spotless and her children were disciplined. How I envied her until Christmas day 2014 when her husband flung her clothes out the door. 
He was bitter, almost in tears. He complained that he was fed up of the marriage, he had married sexy Fiona but now she was looking like shrek, she scrubbed and scrubbed exhausting herself so much that she always gave excuses in bed and the few times she was in the mood he was put off by the smell of baby poop on her. He complained of her hair she had been itching and carrying the weavon for two months and it oozed out odour. Why couldn’t she look good? Why did she think character alone was the pillar of a successful marriage? Yes it’s important but it also needs back-up. Men are creatures moved by sight.
Mrs Sawyer had it going. Her husband loved her like in the soap operas. She was a stepford wife. 5:30 she went to the stadium till she could afford to save up money to buy her own thread mill. She was attractive, her skin glowed as a result of spa and beauty treatments some of which were homemade from her kitchen. She did yoga on weekends even sensual yoga for her sex life. 
The woman turned heads everywhere especially at her place of work. Her classy outfits aroused envy from single ladies like me. When she spoke I could tell she was well read. “I wasn’t always like this” she had once told me. Her husband was a business man and was going international, knowing she had to speak well for him she read wide, knowing she would have more competition she couldn’t afford to relent on her looks.
She was a deaconess at church and was known for her calm and graceful character and prayerful lifestyle.”Mrs Sawyer is a master in the kitchen and a mistress in the bedroom” her husband said. No wonder after four kids they were like newlyweds.
It’s not always like this, I know. Some men don’t appreciate the efforts. Have the character of a saint, learn massage, lose weight till you look like tailor Swift, beat Paula Deen in the kitchen, perform gymnastics in bed and memorise all the kamasutra positions, they would still be caught in bed with Ngozi the village house help. That’s unfortunate but whatever happens never let the blame fall to you. So maybe I agree with Mrs Sawyer, it is hard work keeping your man.
Let’s hear from you: Do you really have to go completely out of your way to keep your man? Let’s know what you think in the comment section below.

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