We left home by 8 pm feeling grown and responsible. By 9 pm, that confidence had started shaking.

We got there and immediately noticed something strange. The host was nowhere to be found but we didn’t think about it too much. 

By 12 am, the DJ packed his laptop like his shift had ended. There was no build up or warning, just dead silence and confused guests. Without music there was no party so everyone started leaving. 

I opened Uber to book a ride and saw ₦27,000. This may not seem like much now but at the time my friends and I were broke and this was two times over our budget. 

I laughed. Then I cried. Then I refreshed. Same price.

Next thing I knew, we were all outside the estate gate, standing in heels, clutching our small bags. Every ride app failed us.

That was when someone finally said it out loud:

“Maybe this lifestyle is not for us.”

By the time we got home at sunrise, our spirits were tired, our stomachs were empty, and our desire to go out had left the group chat.

Since that night, anytime someone says “house party,” I remember that day all over again.