I have never told you about my short stint as a blessee. Truth is I had totally forgotten about this until my sister reminded me about it today. So here we go. I was some old man’s blesee for a little bit.
If you live where I live and you don’t drive, usenjeni. There isn’t a lot of public transport, you kind of have to rely on private cars. So I’m at the bus stop. Then this nice car pulls up. I go to the back passenger seat because I learnt at church that the front seat belongs to the spouse of the driver. Mr man…no, lets call him Dr X points at the front door. Okay so I’m going to be riding shotgun with a stranger? Cool.
I’m in the car, he’s talking, I’m responding. We talk about fuel shortages, power cuts…you know the basic stuff that you talk about when your country is going down the toilet. Then he asks what I do for a living. I tell him. Coincidentally, he’s been looking for a writer. 😒. I don’t know why men think they can use my job as a pick up line. It never works. Asking me to write something doesn’t make me want to date you or talk to you. It just makes me want to write it so you can pay me and we both move on.
Sir takes out his phone- nice phone and asks for my number. I could lie but what if he calls it. We’re still about eight minutes from town and its gonna be awkward if he knows I’m lying. Then he stresses that it’s for the writing gig so I give him the number. At this point I know its BS but esintwini, elders don’t lie, “bayaphosisa”. I offer to pay for the ride. He declines. I drop off. Cool.
Dr X messages me in the evening. He talks, I respond. I’ll give it to him, Dr X knows how to hold a conversation without being gross or nasty or old man-like. Until “When are we having lunch? ” That’s me-greyticking and sleeping. But then I Google him because my potential blesser is googleable. (When sis goes, she goes hard y’all😎) I won’t name drop coz I’m classy. Also because I can’t afford the lawsuit that would follow. So anyway Google says Dr X is unmarried. Awuboni ke.
The messages keep coming then I agree to go for lunch knowing full well that at 12.30, I will turn off my phone then resurface in the evening. Around 12, Dr X sends a message, he says he’s stuck at work and he can’t do lunch. The joy!!! Then a couple of minutes later, he sends a +164 for lunch. Belinda and I ate the hell out of that pizza.
Fast forward a couple of days, Dr X sends the guilt trip of the century. “I don’t know why you act like I want something from you, I just want company”. Which may be fair but sir you are older than my mother. I have nothing to say to you. I give in to the blackmail. We meet for lunch. It’s one of those restaurants which are exclusive enough for there to be literally no one else there. So it’s just us and the staff.
We talk, remember what I said about Dr X and conversation. We talk politics, morality, religion. Cool. But I was just so uncomfortable. I felt like I was sitting with one of my dad’s friends and there should be a third person there actually talking to him while I do nothing. Then lunch was over then he took me to where I was going and I think he must have sensed how uncomfortable I was . We didn’t talk much after that. Just a hie here and there until we totally stopped talking.
It was a good couple of days, I won’t lie. It’s always nice to see the world in the perspective of an older person. The two lunches were great too. But come on, I wasn’t about to sacrifice my comfort for a couple of free lunches. It was great. But now I know for certain. That life is not for me.