I’ve given up my routine Saturday evenings. A relaxing date with my TV while I lick the yoghurt that sticks to the outer cover of the tin with zero shame.
I said it. Yes. This is not a marriage thing. It’s worse.
I told this Human-man that we can both iron our cool clothes and go for some good food around Kampala.
It’s a date! I’m finished.
Maybe if he had asked me via text, I would have found a way. It’s texting, there is always a way. He came up to me in a way that looked like “give me directions” but he wanted the route to my inbox. I was unarmed. It didn’t help that he was handsome and confident.
I blame my friend the most. That Claire! She has been feeding me with “put yourself out there” I should WhatsApp her, 50 angry emojis.
The Human-man is 20 minutes away. I want to escape. But from my own home? This is serious. Claire says I should practice in the mirror, the advice I am currently working with.
I grab a handful of groundnuts that granny sent me and begin analyzing how I chew and swallow. Surely if I can conquer groundnuts I will eat anything gracefully.
Wait. Now I have to brush my teeth again.
The situation just got more intense. Human-man is has arrived.