The regrettable blind date

I am an all or nothing being with high expectations. This pretty much explains why I had to impress on this blind date.

I am an all or nothing being with high expectations. This pretty much explains why I had to impress on this blind date.

Apart from running through Nakumatt like a headless chicken, I hit expensive malls in Kigali. I wore a new outfit, and my hair was ‘a champ’ considering I spent hours getting it done!

“May be it will work out this time round with Kenny,” I thought.

Kenny was a friend’s idea.  “He is a gentleman with such a big heart,” she described him.

I wasn’t sure if he was a looker because Photoshop on Facebook is always playing tricks on me.

Sirens of fear rang through me. How was I to impress this cute, wealthy, good guy? What was I to tell my friends in case things didn’t work out?   I didn’t want to be the next gossip topic and D day was only two days away!

Come D-day, I was well equipped with magazine first date tips. I was on time, smart and decent.  I even ordered for an expensive drink.

 For forty minutes I waited, and then he sent a message about being caught up in traffic.

I was close to leaving when a dark round middle aged gentleman approached.  Could he be the one?  He was dressed in sportswear, sweaty while he walked around the restaurant, guzzling a coke!

“Bite sha ,niwowe untegereje,” he asked in Kinyarwanda, literary meaning, “ Hi, are you the one waiting for me.” My response was a polite yes, noting how loutish he was. He didn’t even offer an apology for making me wait that long. But I wasn’t giving up just yet.

“Are you a student? Remind me, where do you work and what are you experienced in?” he asked.

The conversation was tense, a bit too formal and irritating! Ken couldn’t stop bragging about his wealth, his son in the U.S and assuring me of marriage if “I respected myself.” He confessed I was pretty though he had a few notes to gather about my reputation before committing!

The man ordered food for both of us without asking me what I wanted eat!  “Two beef brochettes for each and chips, he told the waiter. I actually do not eat beef but I let him be.

By now I was at a loss for words. The man kept picking his ears and nose, chewing a toothpick and suffocating me with his endless bragging. Apart from rejecting his lift home, I erased his number immediately. It was good riddance to bad rubbish and a lesson about blind dates.

 

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