SDK Blog Series -Meet The Inlaws - Story 3 (Continued)

*Gwendoline has decided to finish the sweet story she started 2 days ago....

CLICK HERE to read the first part of the story..


I went to an office to harass a woman whom I felt gave me misleading information on some health products. She pleaded that I talk with her doctor friend, a Nigerian like me. She felt I didn’t believe her because she was non-Nigerian. She called a man. As soon as I saw this tall, handsome, chocolatey, slight bow-legged man with a beautiful smile, my heart softened. 

He smiled at me and offered me a seat. He said, “if not that I am married, you are the type of lady I would love to marry”. I smiled disappointingly because I wanted him single not married. He succeeded in calming me down. We chatted a bit and I found out he was lodging close to my house. He requested I visit for a drink. I didn’t mind him. Later that evening, he called. The woman I wanted to harass gave him my number. He told me he was not married. He also explained why he said he was married.

I already liked this guy. He liked me. Before long, we started dating. Back to the Part 1, I actually married the guy in the second story but he was gay. Our marriage was unconsummated. I had written about it earlier, which was why I didn’t go into details. This new guy started towing the line of “I love you, so I will wait till marriage before having sex with you”. I smiled. That type of smile you give someone that is talking rubbish. Once beaten, twice shy. One certain day like that, I seduced him and told him to give me his best. After that action, I knew sexually, there was no problem.

When we decided to marry, he invited me to Lagos to meet with his father. He picked me up at the airport. The following day, as we were about to leave for his home, he asked again if I was sure of marrying him. I said yes. He said I was the first person he would bring home. (Who will I ask?)



As soon as we arrived, his father and three of his girlfriends were waiting. Mature ladies. He dated one before they married different persons. When both became widowed, they resumed dating. From the greeting, I knew it was long he saw his father. His mum already passed away a long time ago. I couldn’t understand their language but they tried to communicate in English. He told his father I was not Yoruba. He said, “ If she has a good character, we will manage her”.

 Within a short time, people started trooping in, men and women. I declared drinks. They started singing my praises. One of the dad’s girlfriends said, “as long as your village dey for map and motor dey reach there, I go show for your traditional marriage”.

 My guy’s elder brother asked him why he wanted to marry an Igbo girl. He said Igbo girls liked money. He replied, “na to make more money be that”. One of his aunties started giving me the history of the family and mentioning prominent members of the family. 

One of the dad’s girlfriends called me and gave me lectures on how to be a good Yoruba bride/wife. She talked about how I should almost kneel down when greeting my seniors and how I should address elderly women as mummy (their first child) instead of Mrs (their husband’s name). 

Another one started praying for me in Yoruba. I could not understand anything. Someone will just touch me and say, “Omo Igbo, say amen. Na better prayer be that, abi you no wan born twins?” 

My guy was in the inner chambers discussing with the father when all these ones were happening. My guy already told me what he wanted to give to his father. As we were about to leave, his uncles who had not seen him in a long while were expecting owo also. He was running out of cash, so I stepped in. I would have given him the cash to share, but in future, I wouldn’t want them to feel he stopped giving because he got married. I gave them cash myself, starting from father-in-law’s girlfriends. Everybody was happy.


True to their words, the whole squad travelled from Lagos to the East for my marriage rites. There, they had another massive fun. Since then, it has been a jolly good ride. They give me my respect and I give them theirs.


For some anonymous humans that commented on my Part 1, who said I like a fake life because of my name, my name is not Gwendoline. That was why I use an asterisk (*). I just wanted to make a point that my name is a little difficult for some to pronounce. It’s a Catholic name given to me by my biological mother.

 One love!