You’re not so special

Memoirs of a Single Christian Chic

peplum dress

Someone once put up a funny pic that said, ‘there are over six billion people in the world and you think you’re special. Quit thinking everything is about you’. Ok, I found that entertaining and very thought provoking. Sometimes when I start falling into that me-hole, I quickly remind myself that everything is not about me and I should try not to be so self-centered at times. If this was what my post was all about then that would be very simple. Unfortunately, it is not. Someone carefully put those words together in his head and said them to moi. You wan know the gist? Ok, na… will dish it all out in a short while.

Ok, so I walk into my bank this bright Monday morning, looking very delectable and charming. Before you ask me why I’m judging how I look by myself, let me just pause and tell you why I know so. First, when I woke up this morning, I was really happy, more like really excited. It was one of those my emotional-high, upbeat mornings. I just bought this beautiful champagne-coloured peplum dress a couple of days ago and I couldn’t wait to match it with my nude shoes and maroon clutch. Suffice it to say I know I look good. My hair is packed in a cute pony tail and my make-up is on point. I enter the bank with an extra bounce in my step and a confident smile on my lips not just because I know I’m looking beautiful but also because of the money I’m about to receive from my sister through Moneygram. The lady banker says to me, ‘You look nice,’ (don’t you just love it when a lady tells you that you look nice? I mean, a guy can say it a thousand times but it can never trump the feeling of a girl who knows what’s up saying the same to you) and I beam with smiles, patting my head slightly to stop it from swelling as I say thank you. After explaining my mission to her she asks me to sit and wait for a while cos their network is a bit slow. I’m not in a hurry so I sit down in the lobby looking around me, still in a gay mood.

That’s when I notice him looking at me. He’s wearing a red polo shirt on baggy jeans (does anybody still wear those these days?) with a chain hooked to the left side of the jeans (you know the Tupac or DMX kindda thing) and brown boots. I look away and turn back in a few seconds to find that he’s still staring at me. He breaks away from the queue waiting to be attended to and starts walking towards me. I’m silently begging God, ‘Please don’t let it be that he’s coming to talk to me!’ I have a bad feeling about this one and …it get’s worse.

He takes the seat beside me. I tell myself to relax. It may not be what I’m thinking. Oh, but how very wrong I am for he smiles at me, revealing very crooked, stained teeth. “Baby, hello,” he says. I practically stop myself from rolling my eyes and just reply, “Hi.” I’m looking at the lady processing my stuff, willing her to be fast. She seems very busy and of course oblivious to my plight.

He clears his throat and fidgets in his seat. He clears his throat again and shifts his seat closer to mine. He’s smelling of sweat, like he hasn’t washed that shirt in seven days of heavy use. I have to be polite so I say nothing. He clears his throat the third time and smiles at me. Then he says, “Baby you would have been very beautiful if not for these pimples on your face.”

Woah! Wait a minute…did I hear right? Yea, that really got me too!  “What did you say?” I’m hoping I didn’t hear him right but he repeats himself, even pointing at the parts of my face where the blackheads were obvious. Ok, let me again pause and state that my face is not like your regular bathing sponge abeg. Maybe I have a few blackheads here and there but who doesn’t? I have never been overly self-conscious of the pimples on my face. In fact, my mom used to tell me that pimples make you look more beautiful (don’t tell me my mom lied). “Be nice and slow to speech,” I tell myself not to get angry and remember my word for the day. He that hath knowledge spareth his words (insert *she* and *her* appropriately): and a man of understanding is of an excellent spirit. Prov 17:27

I’m still looking at him incredulously when he goes further to say, “But baby, seriously I can tell you what you can use to remove all these pimples on your face.” I put away my disgust for a minute and actually listen. He may have a lasting solution to my pimple issues. He continues, “Baby, have you tried using Nixoderm?”

OMG! This is too much for me to bear. Did I dress up this morning only to come and get insulted this way? I try to control my irritation as I say to him, “Nixoderm is used for excema’s not pimples.”
“I know,” he says “but it also works very well for pimples.”  I can give it to you to use.

I think I’ve reached my limit and I really need to get out of there. I need a very concrete reason to get up so that he doesn’t follow me. I’m wishing my phone will start ringing or that the lady will suddenly say my money is ready. Luckily, I see someone I know walking into the banking hall and I stand up to greet her. He stands too and says, “Baby if you don’t mind you can give me your number. I will bring the Nixoderm for you.”

“Sorry I have to go,” I say. That was when he flared up. “Who do you even think you are? Are you Dangote’s daughter? Why are you treating me as if I am rubbish? I may even be your husband tomorrow? (I mutter ‘God forbid’ under my breath) “You think you are so special!”
“Sorry, I have to talk to my friend,” I say and zoom off faster than lightening. Fortunately, just as soon as I’m done talking to my old friend, my name is called and my money handed over to me. Hmm…deep breath, quick escape before he chases after me.

I can’t even dignify this experience with a thought. How annoying can some guys be, abeg? I’m just going to add it to my memoirs and have a good laugh when I read about it in the future. I wonder what my kids will say when they get to read my memoirs one day…lol.

Femmetotale

NB: For those saying that Nixoderm may actually work on pimples, I have to point out that it’s not the whole point for this post. I mean since when did commenting on the pimples on a girl’s face become a good pick-up line? Biko someone needs to compile a book on witty pick-up lines for guys. This thing is getting too much abeg.

Have you had any such ridiculous encounters with guys and their clumsy pick-up lines? Please share.

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