‘What do you think about women who can’t cook?’ My date asks me smiling.
Well, it’s an okay smile. I think to myself.

‘I am a woman,’ I reply shrugging.
‘You tell me if a woman is any less of a woman if she can’t cook,’ I say to him.
I am still holding my fork as I toy with the food. This, itself is a bad sign.. very bad.

‘A woman should know how to cook. You know they say…….’

My mind drifts away. A wave of loneliness sweeps over me and I feel helpless. My fingers are itching to reach over my earphones before I lose myself..
The conversation I held last night replays over my mind.
‘Why is another man on your wall? You should take him down’

‘I won’t. That’s a friend. He is good looking. He is bright. But am not comparing him to you. You are you. What I want’

‘Please.. you will never change. I shouldn’t have agreed to try again..’

‘What? Are you serious’


‘Go to hell.. you won’t appreciate anything. I just hate I can’t move on even after 7 years.. but you know what? This shit eventually goes away… Go.. I don’t want to see you’

I feel a tear slip..

‘Hi.. are you okay? Am I that bad that you are even crying?’ My date asks me concerned..
I raise my eyes. It’s like am seeing him for the first time..
Dark smooth skin. Clean shaven head. Muscles.. lots of muscles.

Something is mighty wrong with me. All I want is to walk alone.

I try to smile to him. He sees right through me.
‘Can I take you somewhere else? Anything that disrupts your mind?’

‘Do you play table tennis?’ I ask hoping he doesn’t.
‘You came to the right person.. he says as he pulls his wallet to pay the bill.

It’s going to be a long night.


*Happy Easter folks*