“I want you to be my wifey. I know what you deserve. You need to be respected, taken good care of and loved. Tell me what can be worth more than love? Ukipendwa pendeka.”
Wait…This is an actual proposal. It’s a little confusing because this man is telling me to be his wifey. He is not asking me to be his wifey, no. He is telling me. He knows what I deserve. Wow. He must be a magician to know how to perform such a spell. To know what I deserve. I know I don’t know what I deserve. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be drinking before the food I ordered arrives. Okay, don’t people in movies pop the question when the food is already on the table?
“Can I ask you a personal question?”
“Why do you keep your nails long?”
He laughs, a burst of infectious laughter because I end up laughing too. Not that I know what is funny.
“I’m sorry, I just didn’t expect that. I suppose my nails just describe me.”
“Describe you? What does that mean. Like they define you?” I ask, staring at his probably two-inch fingernails, and for some reason, he thinks it was a rhetorical question.
“How often do you wash your hands?”
“I wont take that for an answer.”
“Every other time.”
“Wow, you seem to have a lot of those in some sort of quiver. Fine. What would it take for you to cut them? “
“Do you want me to cut them? “
“What I want? A good time. I am not all about relationships or marriage right now. I am in love with money. I am in pursuit of it. Of business deals and stuff like that, you know? But I think you should cut them.”
“If it’s money you want, I think we are both intelligent go getters. Let’s couple up and look for money together. Picture it, Daniel and Diana. We were created for one another. Dont be too choosy. It might cost you later on.”
“I feel arm twisted. This is a very sensitive topic. It’s something I would first love to give a lot of thought about. One wrong move and you are in the wrong marriage eating misery and shitting bricks.”
“It’s okay. Mother Teresa once said, the ones we love hurt us most, ” he says, and I roll my eyes. This changed into a motivational session so fast.
He is a marketer, which explains why he is in official attire. The cool guy wore his striped tie and lucky, happy socks then thought, “She is definitely going to say yes. I have a good feeling.” His nose is huge. It’s the first thing you notice on his face. It stays put looking fat and full of genes eager to be offloaded to the seedlings of his loin—a family heirloom.
“Someone once said that good things take time.(He rolls his eyes). Let’s give this time. For one, I don’t even know you. And you don’t know me either. Nor my darkest and deepest secrets.”
“What are your darkest and deepest secrets?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“Right. Nevertheless, you can’t say good things take time without actions. No one is perfect, and you at times have to make compromises.”
“How do I make compromises when I don’t know what it is I am compromising on? Fine, we are sort of friends. But that isn’t enough. When the time comes, I want to marry my friend.”
PS; Last Tuesday, I woke up in the wee hours of the morning to whisk something up for y’all. To my surprise and great disappointment, my word office needed a product activation key. The insertion key was gone and you couldn’t type a thing. Then I decided to stop beating myself up because after all, it was a holiday. The entire week, lines and sentences kept floating in my headspace, demanding to be written down.