MY FIRST DATE EXPERIENCE: FROM THE DIARY OF A FINISHED MAN
It was our first meeting. Although, I knew she was incredibly gorgeous from the pictures she had sent me, those pictures did not do her appearance any justice. She was slim, tall, curvaceous and stunningly resplendent in her demure cayenne evening gown.
As we walked into the restaurant, I did a cursory eye-search for a suitable spot for us. When I found the perfect place, I gently nodded towards the direction in a subtle attempt to seek her approval. When she nodded her response, I allowed her to lead the way, instinctively feeling the need to guard her from the perverted ogling of men in the restaurant. I pulled out a chair for her once we got to the booth, then I took the inverse seat.
The ambience of the restaurant was perfectly exquisite. Just like I imagined severally in my head. The lights, sound and temperature couldnât be any better, but somehow they didnât matter. You know how the background of pictures in portrait setting gets blurred out on those cheap android devices, and thereâs just one thing in focus? That was how much attention I paid to her that night. I was acutely aware of every aspect of her being and the tiniest movement she made, and every other surrounding details blurred out. I noticed the way her bracelet slid down her arm whenever she raised her hand to her face to stop herself from laughing too hard at my jokes, or when she was gesticulating in an attempt to express herself better. She was an artist making impressions on my heart. She was art.
Briefly, a waiter approached us with two wine glasses and a bottle of Le Petit BĂŠret in his fine company. I had ensured arrangements were made pending our arrival. I needed tonight to be perfect for her. As we reveled in the taste of one of the most exquisite wines Iâve ever had, I gaped at her in pure amusement. I saw the shy grin slip out of her face and a blush run wide across her cheek and lips until her face lit up in a glint, or a twinkle in the sky, except it wasnât a twinkle because it didnât dissipate as soon as it came. It remained, a willing accomplice to the texture of her laughter that had sworn to leave me helpless- in total surrender to her royal gorgeousness.
Unable to catch myself just yet, I let my my gaze fall to the perfect line of her neck and linger on her throat as she swallowed. Then my eyes caught the sharp glint of her pendant as the stone captured the light in the way it shook slightly when she raised her glass, and in the way it hugged her cleave when she was stable. She had perfect shoulders that carried her dress elegantly.
When our eyes locked during silence between talks, I knew to expect her coy smile, followed closely by the need to pull her gaze. Just then, I snagged the mushy moment to deliver my carefully rehearsed and humorous romantic compliments in a suave fashion. Blushing gleefully, she savored every second of my cheesy compliments.
After this, there was an oddly extended period of stillness as we precipitously ran out of what to say. The noiselessness of the restaurant made things even more awkward. Apart from the subtle noise from the choral clacking of the cutlery and the noiseless murmurs from other customers in the restaurant, we could distinctly hear the bubbling sound of our breathing.
I honestly saw this coming. Before we decided on this date, we had had tons of conversations on twitter, and then went on to consistently text each other over the past two weeks. Weâd spoken so much about ourselves that I knew there would naturally be paucity of questions to ask. Determined to rescue us from this awkward moment, I asked, âWhat else do you do besides being a student?â It was an odd way to kick-start a conversation, but at least it salvaged the situation. She responded, âIâm an entertainer; a dancer to be precise.â And this was the beginning of an enthralling night.
With a sarcastic sneer on my face, I said, âBecause of those your Tiktok dance videos?â
She chuckled so contagiously we both ended up laughing another fifteen seconds away. She tried to speak but her laughter incepted her voice, and she laughed a while longer.
âThat was so ludicrous, Iâm actually a real life dancer.â
With more curiosity in my expression, I quizzed, âWhat do you mean by real life dancer?â
She smiled in such a charming manner that I found myself reciprocating her smile. She calmly responded, âIâm actually a stripper.â
I wanted to scream, but I managed to appear deadpanned, maintaining a catatonic expression, as though I didnât just hear something strange. For a moment, I was dumbstruck. As I was about to speak, she interrupted, âIâm dazed that you are not shocked. There is literally no one that I have dropped this bombshell on who didnât give me that judgmental look like Iâm a sinner.â
I silently thanked God she didnât sense my shock. Even though I hid my stupefaction, different thoughts kept waddling through my mind. I wondered if her parents knew, and what they thought about their daughterâs profession. I even visualized her holding a pole and doing stripteases for the amusement of strange men and women. My thoughts went blank, and I struggled to reconcile the fact that the person whose tweets I continuously admired was really a stripper.
I didnât want to sound like a sententious crank, so I maintained a vacuous facial expression and muttered, âThere is nothing unusual about meeting a stripper. After all, human beings are the ones who strip at nightclubs. The only strange thing is that youâre just telling me.â
âWell, this is the first time you are asking,â she replied.
She went on to speak about how much she loves what she does because she momentarily alleviates peopleâs sadness, and even more about how she was sick of people looking down on her for being a stripper. The only downside to her job, according to her, was being âobjectified by perverted menâ. This particular point left me discombobulated. Not to be judgemental, but what does one who strips expect other than sexual objectification? Despite the shocking things I heard, I made sure not to react or act dazed. In fact, I listened intently to every tidbit of what she had to say.
Even though she exuded unwonted self-confidence and verisimilitude in the manner in which she articulated her beliefs, nothing she said defending her career choice made sense to me and I really wished someone could translate everything she had just said from bullshit to English.
She could sense that I was still trying to process what I had just heard, so she derailed our conversation to another topic. âDid you ever wonder why we got along so fast?â She asked with a sheepish smile on her face.
âEhmm, maybe because I am a superb conversationalist, â I muttered.
We both bust into laughter. âYouâre arrogant,â she replied with a grin on her face.
âJokes apart, you are actually a great conversationalist, Yinka. You say very little, but even the most frivolous of your utterances is so entrancing.â
With an obviously humorous glare on my face, I responded, âThanks, boss,â and we both bust into laughter again.
She went on to confess that she initially gave me her attention out of sheer boredom, but my wits gradually piqued her interest. With a more serious expression on her face, she said, âTo be honest, I was even more gravitated towards you when I realized that you never for once made our conversation sexual even after two weeks of constantly confabulating. Your interest in me is not prurient unlike those useless boys with ravenous sexual appetite, who cannot have a decent conversation with a girl unless they find a way to eventually make it sexual.â
At this point, I pretended like I havenât been leering at her all night. To be fair, everything about her that night was catchy. Her smooth tanned skin, her pretty face, her dentition, her dimple, her shinny hair, her accent, and her voluptuous physique. Apart from these, she had this charmingly decorous mannerism- it was obvious that her childhood was an embodiment of concerted cultivation. Despite appearing as the very paragon of elegance, I couldnât help but think that underneath this glittering surface, is a girl who is unapologetically happy to be a stripper.
After a while, I regained composure, away from my distracting thoughts, and plastered a smile on my face. âI have heard enough! No use whinning carry me go where I no know,â I began in the famous Nigerian pidgin language. âPerhaps, if I ever consider having a successful career in arse-licking, I will definitely apply for your tutelage.â We both bust into laughter again. This time, attracting weird stares from people in the restaurant.
With a triumphant clap-back smirk on her face, she responded, âYouâre a proud, witty bighead. You better enjoy this while it lasts, because this is the last compliment you are hearing from me.â
âAwwwn, she called me bighead, na so e dey startâ I chuckled. This time, we laughed wildly, not caring about the staring faces around.
After our long gleeful moment had died down, I said, âHonestly, thank you very much for your kind words. Youâre equally fun to talk to and I sense that our friendship has an uncommon vista of birthing something remarkable.â
Our experience for the rest of the night was so exhilarating, with our conversations revolving around family, politics, twitter banters, and wild laughter. The conversation was so pulsating that we didnât even realize how late it was until we noticed we were the only ones left in the restaurant.
That night, when I got home, we spoke briefly on phone and she thanked me again for the amazing experience and for accepting her personality without being judgmental. That same night, I had a terrible nightmare that she was nakedly lap dancing a strange face at a friendâs house party, and I nearly had a heart attack in the dream.
The following day, after much agonizing, I concluded that I liked her and would talk things out with her. To my greatest dismay, I realized she had blocked me on all social media platforms.
I wondered why someone I had an amazing night with the previous night would cut me off high and dry without any explanation. I grew increasingly desperate for closure; so one evening I created a burner account on twitter, followed her, and summarily started vibing in the DM again. There was no tweet indicating that I mattered or that she thought for one second about me. So, one evening I revealed my true identity to her and asked why she treated me that way. This time, without any explanation, she categorically warned me never to contact her again, otherwise, she would report me to the police for stalking. And then, she blocked me again.