Nwaeze’s wedding reception looked like a carnival. There were the elegant and haggard, wrinkled-faced and fresh, respectable and uncouth. I sat on one of the special tables as a very good friend of the groom right beside the platoon of beautiful, well made up, high heels wearing and elegantly poised bridesmaids. After a while after cash had been sprayed on the newly wedded couple by the rich and wealthy, all in a bid to show off their hard earned labor. I was turning away from one of the bridesmaids, the one sitting closest to me when I swung my head back for a second look. The girl was quite pretty. Her skin glowed flawless ebony. She looked innocent, too. I must have shyly turned to look at her at least five more times.
The last time I turned, she was already looking at me.
‘Hello.’ she said.
‘Hi,’ I replied and faced front, feeling like an idiot.
‘Are you here on behalf of the bride or the groom?’ she asked the side of my head.
There was an awkward pause.
‘My name is Merit. What’s yours?’
‘I’m Kurtis. Please to meet you.’
We shook briefly. Her palms tasted nice.
‘Kurtis? That’s quite an interesting name. I never knew Nigerians bore such sophisticated names, did your father give you that name or you watched too much Hollywood movies and adopted the name?’
I was embarrassed but was quite pleased by the sense of humor this beautiful girl possessed.
‘It depends on who is asking’, I replied.
‘Due to the secrecy behind my name, if I have to tell you the origin behind my name, I would have to kill you’, I continued. She laughed at my dry joke.
This girl was really sweet. She was of medium height, slightly chubby, and had a fringe of hair which gave her a juvenile look that contracted sharply with her voluptuous figure. While she spoke, she leaned slightly towards me and stared confidently into my face. Her voice was confident, too, and she gesticulated graciously when emphasizing a point.
‘Merit.’ One of the other bridesmaids tapped her. ‘Let’s go’.
‘Are you leaving?’ I asked, alamed.
‘Yes we are, all of us bridemaids have to accompany the bride to her husband’s house. They’re expecting more guests there.’
I stared like a bafoon, short of words.
‘Take care,’ she said and turned to leave.
Then all of a sudden, I gathered enough liver and said,
She turned back with a smile (I guess she was hoping I called her back).
I was starting to feel like an idiot again. I finally forced the words out of my mouth.
‘Is it OK for me to give you my number so you can call me sometime?’
(ooo noo, I should have asked for her number, who was I to be giving her my number to call me, I have just messed up, I am sure she would say a big NO).
She shrugged and to my utter surprise she replied
Delighted, I fished out my wallet for my complimentary card and remembered I didn’t have one so I just replied
‘Ran out of complimentary cards, I’ll just write down the number on a sheet of paper’.
She took it from me and looked at it.
‘Talk to you soon,’ she said and smiled, then gallopped away.
For 2 days I held my phone waiting for her call and then on one fateful day my phone rang. It was Merit!
There was something about a girl who was not afraid to make the first move. I was never impressed by hard-to-get games. Saying hello when she noticed me staring at her at the wedding was an obvious come-get-me gesture and her confidence and sense of humor was almost second to none.
Girls that made the first move always came across to me as confident, the I-know-what-I-want-and-I-go-for-it mentality always shows decisiveness and absolute business minded ideology.
When making the first move, there is a thin line between desperation and straightforwardness, so thread carefully but in all some guys are
cowards shy, don’t let your shakara make you both loose out on the chance of love.
Culled and Adopted From:
“I Do Not Come To You By Chance” by Adaobi Nwaubani