Black Coffee

“can I have coffee, black?” I heard a baritone voice say behind me. The waitress looked at me and then her eyes glanced at the man behind me, she was letting him know that she heard him but that I was here first. I didn’t turn around, instead I continued placing my order” please make that 3 croissants please”- I said. “Wheat or?” – the waitress asked. “yuck” – I said and we both laughed.

As she packed my order; my mind drifted, I thought about how certain looks convey a thousand words, like just now. The waitress didn’t say anything to “Mr eau de parfum” behind me, all she did was look at him and I think I heard him murmur an “ok”, I’m not sure. It reminded me of a time when I was younger, I think about 6 or 7 years old, and a neighbour had asked me to go check what the time was, I went into the house and when I returned, I confidently said “the time is twelve three”. The time was twelve:fifteen, but i didn’t know that, I was young and in my defence, telling the time was not yet in my term schedule. It took only one glance from my waffarian mother to know that I would be dying from the strokes of cane, she plans to give me when my neighbour leaves, Just ONE look and my “dearth warrant” was signed.
My neighbour added more salt to my mother’s open embarrassment by telling us how her son was my age and could tell time perfectly, my mother smiled but when she looked at me, i knew, yes i knew in my heart that the world either ended or I would. Its a miracle I survived that day.
“ma, you can pay here” – the waitress signaled to me, as she punched in my order into the point of sale machine. “Hello sir” – Another waitress said. “yes, Hello, can I get Coffee, Black” – Mr Parfum said.

As I walked out of the bistro, Mr parfum said “Hello”, I smiled but I didn’t say Hello back.
The bistro was not far from my office so I walked, the morning sun melting my skin. A distant melody played in my head, it was a dirty song, very nasty song and I laughed at myself for hating the song yet remembering the lyrics. I guess my mum was right afterall, you always remember the bad things first. I laughed again, this time, wary of passers-by thinking, I’m running mad. I put my hand over my mouth, my lip gloss staining my palm, but the need to laugh wouldn’t go away, so i just let it out as I sang:
“I no know wetin I do, wey you pound me like fufu, you make my toto dey pain me, okogbolor, you are too bad. You fuck me too hard o, too hard, I no know Wetin I do, wey you pound me like fufu, you make my…” I burst into laughter, always hated the word T O T O, it was crass, dirty and just such a nasty pet name for vagina. While I struggled through holding back laughter and shaking my head vigorously so that I could forget this nasty song, a car honked behind me, i moved to the side of the road to let it pass but it slowed down. “Hello Beautiful” – it was Mr Eau de parfum. “Hi” – I said smiling, I was wondering if he had seen me acting like a mad person. “you are such a pretty girl” – he said. “OK? Thanks.” – I replied, I hated compliments, I don’t know what to do with them and frankly I don’t think I deserve them. “errmmm, I’m late for work” – he said, pacing his words. “ok, you shouldn’t be on the road then” – I said, matter of factly. “can i call you later?” – he asked. “how would you do that, do you have a spiritual message or voice transporter?” – I was being sarcastic. “Touché” – he replied and laughed. “My name is Obinna, what’s yours? Can I drop you off, so we can talk some more?” – he asked. “How am I sure, you are not a serial killer?” – it was rhetorical. “Waoh! OK, well I’m not a serial killer young lady, it’s just easier than talking on the road” – Obinna said and continued “can I know your name at least?”. “Ada, my name is Ada” – I said and I opened his car door and sat down, “that’s my office down the road”

“Thank you Ada for entering my car, now let me call the chief priest to inform him that the sacrifice is ready” – Obinna said, smiling. “That’s not funny” – I said, smacking him across the right shoulder. “Ouch” – Obinna chirped playfully. “so, Miss Ada, I’m going to drive at 10km/hr to increase my less than 1 minute with you” – Obi said. “OK? As far as I get to the office eventually” – I said and we both laughed.

Obi works as a financial analyst for a private equity firm, he came off as overtly confident and a bit too keen in my opinion.

When we got to my office, I gave him my card to which he responded “Thank God, I was about literally about to bring out my guns”. We both laughed before he drove off.

Four days had passed before obi called, I didn’t think about him that much, neither did I wonder why he didn’t call. Dating had become a chess game, it was a case of maintaining as much *aloofness* as possible. I don’t blame people who play the game, if you let yourself go, people take advantage of you. “Hello Beautiful Ada” – He said, as if he didn’t just go AWOL for days. “Hello who’s this” – I asked. “It’s your future husband” – Obi replied. “Sorry you have the wrong number” – I said. “Ouuchh, who hurt you Ada?” – Obi said playfully. “Well some of us learn from other people’s experiences, Mr Obinna–I said. ” so you do know who this is” – Obinna said. “Yes, your voice remains the same” – I said.

Obi was calling to schedule a date, dinner on Friday or Saturday. He found a new bistro he wanted to take me to. After all the sarcastic, pun – filled, word sparring, I finally agreed to let him take me to dinner today… ◽ ◽ 🔲 The dinner is at 7pm today… When I return, I will conclude this story.

This was the ______ date ever!
It was 7pm; I wore a thigh high side slit glittering dress because a bit of skin never killed nobody…
“Hello” – I said into the receiver, a couple of seconds after my phone rang.
“Hi Ada, I’m outaide” – he said, his voice feeling a warm palm on my skin.
I smiled “I’ll be down in a minute” and ended the call.

I walked to the tall mirror in my room, stretching my legs to ensure the slit showed the right amount of thigh. I ran my hands through my body, giggling as I thought about ‘black coffee’s’ hand on my body.
What’s a great date without great sex?

I got downstairs, walked to the car and there he was in all his 6 feet tall glory, fighting another driver who bashed his car.

I literally walked into a fight. Blows were flying left, right, center. I had to take off my heels, I ran inside to get my gate man, Mohammed to help me pacify this man but Black coffee wouldn’t listen, he almost punched Mohammed.

After a couple of minutes, other drivers intervened and the fight ended. This man turned to look at me, gave a big sigh, entered into his car and drove off!

I just stood there looking like a mumu.

This date was the worst date ever!
This was one of the reasons why I didn’t want to complete the story.