Freshly Single Memoirs Episode 3

Freshly Single Memoirs Episode 3

Freshly Single Memoirs Episode 3?


I was standing by the roadside, waiting for a bus home. It was almost 6 pm. It had been a full twenty minutes without any luck. I had my laptop bag slung over my left shoulder and my lunch bag in my right hand. I figured if I was going to wait here a while, I would make the most of it. I plugged my earpiece and put on Miley Cyrus‘s “Plastic Hearts“.

A few moments later, a car swerved roughly into the bend I was standing, almost hitting me in the process. I couldn’t understand how. There was enough space to fit two trucks! What the hell?! The driver laughed at me as he drove past. This was probably one stupid joke to him. Okay.

He brought the car to a halt and got out with two other guys. I looked away, desperately needing that bus now because I was getting pissed. I felt someone touch my shoulder some seconds later. I turned to see one of the guys that got out of the car. He pointed at the driver and said something stupid.

“My Boss wants to talk to you”

If looks could kill, I’d have officiated his funeral. I looked back at the driver – the same lunatic that almost drove me off the road. The nerve! I looked away, put back my earpiece and increased the volume. He walked up to me after the other guy had left, tugging at my bag like a crook.

“Nne, are you angry?” He said this in Igbo. I didn’t reply.

He then smiled, displaying his dimples which I was automatically drawn to. He apologized for almost hitting me and blamed it on his friend. He offered a handshake which I took, as he introduced himself to me as “Bishop”.

He offered me a ride home and even though I wanted to decline, I had stood there for too long. My feet were aching and I had a splitting headache. So, I took the ride but asked him to drop me off at my bus stop. He was nice and warm. He took my number and that was where it began.

I knew it would happen but somewhere deep down, I was hoping it wouldn’t – The incessant calls and texts. It was choking. He didn’t hide his intentions but I didn’t feel it was right. Something was amiss.

After turning down so many invitations to dinner, lunch and his home, he gave me an Oscar award-winning voice note about how he couldn’t breathe without me and finalized by saying he would cherish it if I love him back. I left the voice-note without a reply. This wasn’t love.

A week later, while waiting for my hot water bath, I decided to view some WhatsApp status to keep busy. That was when I saw them. The pictures. See eh, let me get this straight. I constantly hear about how men who have wives at home bother single girls all day, everyday and these girls don’t find out till Facebook helps them. I didn’t think for one second that I’d have the experience.

I could see the happiness, the way her lips curled in laughter. She was holding on to him tightly, with her arms wound around his waist. They were wearing native matching outfits. His smile, that dimple, protruding lavishly. He captioned it

“Can’t love you any less”

It was her birthday. A few more pictures and I saw his beautiful daughter. Not more than two years old. She looked so much like him. The carbon copy. Awww. Daddy’s little girl. I carefully went through the 12 pictures he posted. I needed him to know I had seen them.

When I was done, I opened my music playlist, pressed play to Ugoccie & Kolaboy‘s “Do You Really Like Me?” and sauntered into the bathroom.

The Perfect song for a good evening. We Move!

Written by Pinklady Ohakah


  1. Sonwa

    Wow!!! Interesting.. you just brought back memories ?
    Anyways, I fear men of this generation ?

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