The Preacher's Daughter is not a Stripper

Happy birthday Papa. This is the first birthday that I have not been a part of in some capacity in almost 10 years. Our anniversary was hard for me and I am bracing myself for a hard day, but it will pass. I keep trying to imagine what we would be doing if you were still with me. i remember the last birthday I spent with you. Do you remember, I bet you are laughing wherever you are.

It was the big 25 and your parents were in Naij. I wanted us to have a party but you didn't want a fuss. I kept saying that 25 was a landmark and should be celebrated. You just wanted to chill, maybe hang out with a few friends etc. I was adamant, so we compromised.

We had a little come chop for you; a few of your friends and a few of mine. I remember waking up really early to slave over the cooker. After a couple of hours in the kitchen, I had begun to wonder what had possessed me to talk you into having a party. Anyway, Labake and Aramide were there too and they conveniently woke up after all the real work had been done. They helped me clean up and you went to the store to buy some drinks

The party went off without a hitch, as usual, it ended up being more than "a few friends". I didn't know half the people there but you were having fun and that really was all that mattered to me. By 3a.m, I was shattered and the party was winding down. I guilted Labake and Aramide into seeing the few guests that were left off, I wanted to go to bed and I wanted to give you your "birthday present"

I had bought a PVC nurses outfit from a seedy little shop on Berwick Street and I wanted to dance for you. I put on some music, went into the bathroom and changed into the little outfit. I came out, did a few "stripper moves" and started to dance slowly and what I thought was sexily. I heard you stifle a giggle and I stopped. This was not how I saw this playing out in my head. It was meant to make you horny not laugh. I pulled up the zipper of the dress and stormed into the bathroom. "Baby come on," you said, clearly still laughing. I came out in a towel, having removed the offending outfit. I was sulking. "you are so sweet and definitely sexy", you said as you took my hand, "but you have to admit that shit was funny". I punched you in your stomach. We fell on the bed laughing, it was funny, what had I been thinking?

That night, you made love to me and I fell asleep in your arms. You had this way of hooking my neck in the crook of your arm, with your leg over mine. It wasn't the most comfortable way to sleep, I have to admit. But I have never felt safer than when we where in that position; my head on your chest, listening to rhythm of your heart beat and your even breath. You didn't snore, thank God for that.

The best part of falling asleep with you was waking up with you. Seeing your face always put a smile on my face. My gorgeous 6ft of dark chocolate, complete with ripples in all the right places; with a smile that always reached your eyes. Papa, Master of my heart. Happy Birthday.

Always
Me