My Pre-Valentine Escapade
Despite the gruesome tales of domestic violence and ‘husbands-from-hell’ (wives-from-hell, too or is it wives with knives and matches,now?), I know there are good men out there. Men who are faithful. Men who do not need to lay hands on their wives to ascertain their manliness. Men who love their wives and show it in different not-so-obvious ways.
Show of gifts do not move me (*yawn* Please disregard this lie till after the 14th of Feb) because basically all the gifts I have been given, I could have gotten myself. Little things do; a text, poem, a voicenote, movies, a bowl of ice cream and of course…Agege bread.
This post is about the man I met yesterday.
I was in a bus (I have no shame o! I should just get a car, abeg!) reading a book but I lost my train of thought after a while. My eyes flickered to the side and I saw a man typing something into his phone. (This is Syn. Syn likes spying in Danfo. Don’t be like Syn.) Feigning disinterest, I crammed the message. (Yels. The babe brain dey use 4G.) It read: “It have (sic) be (sic) six years we marry. I want to wish me (sic) and my wife a happy wedding (sic). He kept editing but it kept getting worse. Frustration showed on his face.
I appraised the man; thick build, bunch of keys, sandals, polo and chinos. Definitely Igbo. Scratch that, definitely ‘Omata’ (Igbo word for uneducated businessman). Within seconds, I deduced that he could barely spell, he had an anniversary message he wanted to send to his wife and the dude wanted to be romantic (asides the Jeep he would probably get her if she had a son for him).
I was pleasantly surprised. An Omata was trying to send a lovey-dovey message? O. M. G!
Without thinking, I tapped him. ‘Good evening, Sir. Sorry to intrude. I noticed you were sending something to your wife. I am a text message expert. (Wtf does this mean?) Let me help you.’
At first he smiled, gave me a thunder-fire-you look and said no. I persisted, refusing to let him be. (I’m a pest, right? I’m sure peeps were like ‘Husband snatcher wey dey find valentine’. Sigh.) After a while, he gave me his phone and this was what I typed. “It has been six years since I said I do. Six years since I promised to love you and be true to you. I renew that promise today, to be faithful and to be by you till forever and the hereafter. Nne m, you are my woman and I love you to distraction. Happy anniversary, baby.”
I gave him back his phone before a minute was up. He read and said ‘Add my name, too.’ I rolled my eyes at this point and did what he asked.
He seemed satisfied, smiled and saved the message. He said thank you and showed me other messages he had been typing.
They were riddled with errors but filled with love.
My gaze found its way back to my novel but I couldn’t concentrate because I was smiling. There is a romantic Omata after all.
Never generalize, Syn. Never generalize.
What do you think? Should I have minded my business? Let’s talk in the comments section.