PROSE: A Date Gone Wrong

Funke and I met when I was about to leave the campus and we went on a date. A relationship between a year-one-student and a graduate-in-the-embryo seemed to finally work out for me. But, as usual, I had to pick a good grade ahead of a romantic relationship. I actually left the University with a very good result but my relationship status failed to change.

Six years later, I crossed path with Funke who is now a grown-up woman. As we exchanged pleasantries at the shopping mall where we met, I stared at her fingers repeatedly before I asked any question related to her marital status. “Deji, how is your family and kids? You’ve really added weight. Your wife must be feeding you very well” she asked the same question I was still putting together in my mind.“No, I’m still single. I’ve been waiting for you all these years” I replied as she grinned. We exchanged contacts once again and I promised to buzz her.

Our conversations thereafter were about going on a date together. We then fixed a date and venue. The night before the day we were to meet, I dreamt about starting a beautiful home with Funke. Then came the day and I was so nervous; all that was on my mind was I how I’m going come out plain to Funke without telling a lie as I have pledged to say the truth. Experience had taught me not to lie to a woman I intend to marry.

I arrived at the eatery we were to meet before her. See me changing my posture every minute, licking my lips every second and dusting my shoes every now and then as I waited for her. My heart was beating very fast as if I was going to face a panel of University Professors. Funke finally arrived in a beautiful pink gown that made me see our future together. She made the order as soon as we sat and I thought she’ll be very good in preparing a food timetable for the family.

We talked at length as she sipped her orange juice every minute. I was trying to compose my next line when I saw her looking at the ladies opposite her direction. I looked at the same direction then I heard, ‘‘yes, my eyes won’t deceive me. It’s him’’. I tried to get Funke back on track when the ladies stormed our table.

“You no fit run pass your destiny. You carry olosho and you think say you fit use fast number and don’t pay for service’’. One of the ladies who had a nose ring and an ankle chain on quickly poured the Burberry drink on my head. While I tried to shut them down, the two other ladies squeezed my Madara fashion-label wear. Funke was just looking for a way to disappear because of the embarrassment. They eventually allowed her to leave the scene but pounced on me as we created a scene in the eatery. I have bot been able to reach Funke since then to explain myself as her number has been unreachable.

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