SO I FINALLY HAVE A DATE...

My mother’s sister called me yesterday.

She’s not one of my favourite people in the world.

She’s as obnoxious as the size of her breasts! She’s constantly comparing me with her married daughters (and of course, I always fall short) and she’s always discussing my singleness with my mother.

In her view, I’m possibly the only unmarried 29 year old species on earth and that kind of makes me her pet project.

And I wonder what gives her the right to champion this course seeing that she isn’t even with her husband anymore. The story goes that she tried suffocating him with her chest one night and that he truly almost died…I was 12 at the time so the story did hold water. I do not care to know the truth.

So she calls me and tells me she has arranged for me to meet this man who has just returned from his 5 year hiatus in Somalia. I find this strange because I do not know of many Nigerians in Somalia. I do not know any.

I try telling her I am not interested in this rendezvous in the most courteous of manners I can manage; but she launchs into a dirge on how ungrateful a child I am; how she’s been trying to help me for ages now even though she ordinarily should have no business doing this; on how no woman in our clan has ever been unmarried at my age …and to bring the drama to an end, she bursts into tears.

And her fountain works because somehow I agree to meet this man she believes would make a good husband for me.

She ends the discussion by reminding me that it isn’t always about love; marry now, love later…

So, come Saturday evening at 5:00pm, I would be headed to a restaurant at Wuse 2 to meet my aunty’s choice.

But like Jane Austen, I do not believe I could marry without affection despite my desperation.

I need to get back to work now. Chioma, my overly sanguine colleague is headed my way…her ability to not talk matches an ant’s ability to resist sugar.

Wish me luck on my date.

Have a great weekend ahead!