A dinner date to remember-My dating chronicles

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It was my first date with him, I will call him John. We met through a dating app known as Badoo (exclusively designee for adults who are looking for a serious relationship) and decided to meet at a fancy restaurant. The night started off well, with John and I chatting and laughing over dinner. He was so classically handsome, straight aqueline nose, curly hair, pearly white dentures, broad shoulders and abs...a big catch I daresay. He looks well to do and rides a posh Lexus Jeep, this is exactly what a baby girl like me should have. A guy who would sweep her off her feet in luxury lifestyle and baby girl treatment. That night felt like my lucky night!

Toh! I rightfully bragged about him to my roomy. So I was all elated and ready for the evening, with my pre-configured rules of engagement on a date in my head which was: Act ladylike, a man does all the spending, remember, a baby girl does not spend on a guy.

However, when the bill arrived, John was surprised when I made no move to pay or show the tiniest initiative. He waited for a few moments, assuming I was just waiting for him to take the lead, but I remained silent staring straight at him, gesturing that he should pay the tab.

John, feeling uncomfortable, offered to pay for the bill. I thanked him and acted pleased as a cat that licked a bowl of creamy milk. As we left the restaurant and walked towards the car, John couldn’t help but feel uneasy about the situation. He had always believed in splitting the bill on dates, and he was disappointed that I hadn’t offered to pay my own share of the dinner bill.

I noticed John’s discomfort and asked him what was wrong. John hesitated, but then explained that he had expected us to split the bill. He further explained that he wasn’t even expecting me to pay everything or anything at all, that he would have appreciated me showing some initiative to pay, that would have been considerable. And My response to his complaints shocked him

“I don’t believe in splitting the bill,” I said. “I think it’s the man’s responsibility to pay.”

John was taken aback. He had never encountered this kind of thinking before. He tried to explain that he believed in equality and that it was only fair to split the bill, but I remained firm in my beliefs.

John excused himself and said he wants to use the loo, that he wants me to go back inside,sit back at our table and wait for him because he was pressed beyond measure. He disappeared from the restaurant. And before he left through the back door, he told the waiter to get the bill payment from me as he needed urgent refund of his previous payment.

I sat and waited and waited with no John in sight. I stared around and still, I can’t see him. Then I looked outside and discovered that his car was gone! Gone from the parking lot!

Two waitresses came up to me to demand that I pay the bill. Embarrassed I told them my boyfriend will pay that he is coming

“Which boyfriend?” they chorused looking at me decisively up and down, “somebody that left and told us that you are to pay the bill, madam please pay up!”

My cheeks hot with shame I started begging that they let me go. But my pleas ended up on deaf ears. These evil, mean girls are bent on making me pay and foiling my posh, baby girl image!

I ended up being held liable for the dinner expenditures. Having no cash on me to pay, the manager told me to go down to the kitchen in the basement to wash as much plates as possible, used by customers, that corresponds to my outstanding bill.

I became so disgruntled, muttering curses under my breath with rage, as I ended up washing the dishes in the restaurant kitchen as a collateral payment for our dinner! What a funny way to end a dinner Date! In my quest for true love and soft life, I was handed a bitter, wooden lesson!

As I washed the plates, one of the waitresses came to supervise me, wearing a scornful look. From the corner of my eye, I saw the other workers whispering and giggling amongst themselves. I raised my face defiantly and looked at them, raised my hands filled with soap suds and roared,

“What? What is so funny? Who are you people laughing at?” I croaked like a frog that drank excessive water as I struggled to hold back tears

“Sharap jare!” one of the girls scorned me, “You were raising your shoulders when you came into this restaurant, raising your shoulders high like we were ants, but simple bill, you cannot pay! Wash those plates well o! I do not want to see any oil stains on them! Wash the plates well because it will be used to serve customers who can pay their bills comfortably!”

I looked at my shiny, fake Gucci sandals and my cheap manicured nails and wondered what I did to deserve this. I am a baby girl, I need soft life, not this! Here I am reduced to bits because John absconded on me, leaving me at the mercy of these mean waitresses that had no joy in their soul!

I washed and washed and washed the heap of plates and they kept bringing more. I washed until my palms shriveled like those of an aged woman and my fake nails fell off inside the dish water. I am sure those girls did that intentionally out of jealousy. They envied my good looks! I do not blame them! They are having their field day with my sorrow.

After two long hours, I was released into the night. My hair and clothes looking all creased and rumpled like a scarecrow

“E no go better for John!” I swore. What is wrong in wanting to be pampered like a baby girl I am, allowing the man to pay the bills?

I was even thinking of how to explain to my roommate who was waiting for me to come back with excess takeaway packs of food, chicken, drinks and confectionery, as I told her I was going on a date with a rich guy, to elevate my baby girl status as e dey hot.

I walked home dragging my feet like a zombie as I no get shi shi for bag.

When my roommate opened the door and saw how disheveled I looked, she got worried thinking I was in some kind of trouble. When I narrated my ordeal and unsavory experience to her, she burst into laughter, rolling on the floor, holding her stomach, heaving and gasping for breath

“Did You just tell me you washed plates to pay for both your dinners?” she laughed some more and said in conclusion, “Baby Girl in the Mud!” and roared some more.

I just sat on the bed, my jaw in my hands, thinking about my life. This journey of love and searching for the special someone is truly a pot of beans.

Then with sudden determination I told My roommate,

“You see John eh? He will pay for what he did to me!”

“What will you do?” my roommate jeered, “you will end up washing another round of restaurant plates o, you better rest”

I couldn’t help but laugh at her statement, but I don’t want to see myself washing heaps of plates again under the watch of angry birds waitresses, waiting to collect their pound of flesh.

I went to bed that night, nursing a hurt ego, thinking of a thousand and one ways to carry out my revenge on John the date absconder.

This journey of dating and relationships I repeat once more, is a funny pot of beans.

This post is a submission to the paritae blogging competition titled “Dating Chronicles” where you stand the chances of winning $100.

Thank you for reading!