THE DATE

After my uni days, I had gone back home to wait for my call up leter for NYSC(National Youth Service Corps). One cool day,after postponing for so long, travelling from my room to the kitchen then to the bathroom and back to my room, I finally agreed to meet with someone. A fine lady I met and got talking to on Facebook.

Source

I didn't know her so well. I didn't know what to expect and it gave me some anxiety. When I got to the venue we were to meet, I swallowed hard, steadied my nerves and walked in.

She was fun. A happy fellow that talked for the both of us. She made me smile and blush too. She said I was different from what she had expected. Beautifully so. She said I had no mean bone at all. I laughed.

When it was time to order, I humbly ordered something humble. Fried rice. She insisted I add something to it. I declined. She asked the waiter on my behalf to get me chicken and coleslaw. I watched her place her order; some food I have no idea what the name was and a bottle of wine. I'd never ordered wine before.

We ate. Well, she ate while I chewed through my food that wouldn't digest. The wine alone should be up to 5,000naira. Every other thing should sum up to 8,000naira. And me, I had not more than 5,700naira on me. My transportation back home inclusive.

I picked up my phone and pleaded with my friend to be on standby. To be ready to send me some money if matters arose. I thought about breaking my piggybank if worse came to worst. I started having this throbbing feeling that I had fucked up. That I should just have stayed home and told her that I travelled or was down with some illness.

In the middle of eating, waiter brought the bills and laid them on the table. Five healthy digits. My date picked her phone and started peering into it, texting like the phone was new. My heart broke.She was smiling at her phone and it set my teeth on edge - her sudden attachment to her phone and pretentious obliviousness (as I thought of it) to the waiter's arrival.

My breathing changed, I began to sweat. The kind you sweat even in an air-conditioned room when your bowels are full and threatening to empty itself if you don't do the needful. My legs began to lose their strength. I imagined a headline:

"Young man who took a girl out but couldn't offset the bill made to wash plates for a week."

I imagined going online and finding my pictures splashed over Facebook with everyone and anyone giving "hot-takes" and creating content/traffic for their pages out of my ordeal.

While I was thinking and sweating, the waiter came by our table again. I wanted to pass my card. My hand trembling.

"SOKA, I'll take it. Please," my date said.
It suddenly became the sweetest thing I had heard in so long.

"No, no - you don't have to. I'll take care of it," I said, my voice sounding different even to me.

"Please, just let me take care of this one. I insist," she said looking at me.

I didn't fight it lest I get myself embarrassed.
"All right. As you please. But next time, I'd do the honours, okay?" I said, joy filling my heart.

She gave a nod. Turning to the waiter, she passed a paper. "Add those wines to my takeout," she told him.

And then I felt my chest loosen. Never knew it had tightened until then. We talked some more. I made jokes, we laughed. I still am waiting for the ten years I lost thinking and panicking to come back to me, because whenever I think about that moment, i laugh.

Thanks for stopping by.
SOKA🖤