The First Time I Slept Over and My Period Surprised Me
About Us - Episode 7
There are many moments I’ve shared with Olamide that have made me feel loved, but this one? This one still makes me emotional when I think about it.
We had a Friday night sleepover at his apartment. Nothing fancy, just us, a bunch of throw pillows, a shared blanket on the couch, and a movie playlist that kept getting interrupted because we kept pausing to gist or argue about movies and everything. I had brought fruit drinks and popcorn. He made chicken wings that were too spicy for him but perfect for me. We played games, laughed till our stomachs hurt and when we finally dozed off in the sitting room, it felt like the most comfortable space in the world.
Until the next morning. I woke up before him or so I thought.
My head was pounding, and I felt unusually weak. I reached for the duvet, ready to get up and freshen up, and then I saw it, that stain of blood. I first Panicked. That was the first emotion.
I sat there frozen, the realization hitting me like a slap. My period had come early, without warning. On the morning after our first official sleepover at Olamide's house.
I groaned and rubbed my temples. Why now? Why here? Why today? I muttered curses under my breath, praying he hadn’t seen it yet. Where was he anyway?
Just as I bent forward, trying to bundle the stained duvet in a way I could sneak it to the washing machine, I heard the key turn in the lock. My heart dropped.
The door opened and there he was, fresh from a morning shower, in a clean white T-shirt and grey joggers, carrying shopping bags in both hands. He looked so annoyingly good, I almost forgot my crisis. “Hey," he said softly, his voice wrapping around me like a blanket.
I tried to act normal. “Hmm, hi babe... I woke up, didn’t see you…” He didn’t respond immediately. He just looked at me. That look, the one that saw past the smile I was faking.
I shifted nervously on the floor and blurted, “I’m sorry. I stained your duvet.” I covered my face, embarrassed beyond words. He walked over and gently pulled my hands away. “Babe, it’s fine. Really.”
He asked how I was feeling, and I told him headache, cramps, tiredness and everything that has to do with period drama. He sighed softly and went back to the couch, rummaging through one of the bags.
“I figured,” he said. “So I got a few things.” Pads, painkillers, a cozy set of lounge wear, herbal tea, chocolate, a hot water bottle, a fresh towel, body mist, even face wipes. It was like a care package straight out of a Pinterest board for menstrual survival. I didn’t even try to stop the tears. This man eh.
“Why are you like this?” I asked, voice cracking. He looked up to my face, smiling. “Like what?” “So kind and so thoughtful.”
He chuckled. “Because I love you”
After I’d showered and changed, I came out to find the sitting room already cleaned up, duvet out of sight, pillows arranged, everything reset. The smell of something savoury pulled me toward the kitchen.
He was cooking, vegetables with spinach and boiled potatoes on the side. He turned and grinned. “My mum used to make this for my sister every month. She said it helped her rest better.”
I stood there, blinking as another wave of emotions hit me. It's not just because he cooked but because he remembered, because he cared, because he saw me.
After eating, I dozed off right there on the couch, the kind of sleep that heals something inside you. He was working in the background, taking calls, typing, but every now and then I’d feel his hand brush my forehead to check if I was still okay.
By evening, I felt better, not perfect, but lighter. The cramps had eased. My mood had softened. I was ready to go home. He insisted on driving me and I didn’t fight it.
When we got to my apartment, we both stepped out. He walked me to my door, hands tucked in his pockets, shoulders slightly hunched like he didn’t want to leave just yet. I could feel the tension between us. It felt like peace.
“I miss you already Simi” he said quietly, his eyes not leaving mine. His voice had that softness that only came out in moments like this, when he was being completely honest.
“Babee,” I said, letting the word stretch as I wrapped my arms around him, looking up at him “I miss you too. I know you’re busy with work, and I’m just here, stressing you out with my period wahala.”
He pulled back just enough to look at me, his hands resting gently on my waist. “I don’t mind,” he said with a small smile. “I’m just practicing for when we’re married, when life gets even more stressful with work, long days, burnout, whatever. You’re not doing all of that alone when I’m here, hm?”
I burst out laughing, burying my face to his chest, the kind of laughter that came from deep in my stomach. It was so ridiculous, so sweet, so perfectly him.
“I’m glad I make you laugh,” he replied with that crooked smile. Then he did it, the thing he always does. He reached up and gave my hair that playful, rough rub like I was a mischievous puppy he couldn’t help but love.
“I love you,” he said, and before I could reply, he leaned in and gave me the softest peck on my lips. Not rushed or dramatic. Just soft and thoughtful.
“I love you too,” I whispered, smiling. He pulled me into a hug right after. The kind of hug that made everything pause, that made my heart slow down just enough to breathe again. I rested my head on his chest, and we stayed there for a while, just swaying gently, like the world could wait.
His arms were wrapped around me like they knew what to do. Like they had one job, and it was to remind me I wasn’t alone.
Maybe that’s what love is. Love is not just the pretty parts, but the messy, hormonal, stained-duvet parts too and the man who stays.