Chapter 1: Sushi, Salary, and Savage Questions

Nearly thirty years on this earth, and for the first time, one babe I meet for blind date just scatter my whole mindset.

Even as I type this, I still dey reason am like, ‘Guy, na juju or na jazz?’ My guys always dey yarn say I too dey calculate, too dey weigh things before I move—so how one fine babe just balance me like this?

Na she even choose where we go meet: one Japanese restaurant for Victoria Island wey the average bill per person na ₦80,000. If na me, buka for Surulere or at least one coded lounge for mainland. But make I no dull myself. This Lagos na flex, and the babe come correct—her WhatsApp DP alone dey shine like Third Mainland Bridge for December.

On the D-day, she show thirty minutes late. I no too vex, just dey check wristwatch, dey scroll Twitter, dey see if Arsenal still dey fall hand. For Lagos, time na joke. Everybody dey blame traffic.

Her first words no even be sorry, na full complain: “Traffic today bad no be small!”

She land with high heel, carry Chanel bag, perfume just dey float for air like say angel descend from Eko Bridge. She no even send say I wait tire—na Lagos we dey, everybody dey blame traffic.

To be honest, the babe fine sha—about 5'7" with that Mercy Johnson aura, dress game tight. If she waka for road, heads go turn.

Her skin dey glow, wig lay like say she get personal stylist. Even the way she dey talk—soft but firm, like babe wey sabi her worth. Bros, I no go lie, my chest gree.

I just smile, reply, “No vex, na weekend—traffic dey always mad for this Lagos.”

I dey form humble guy, dey smile like person wey just win bet9ja. Even waiter dey eye her as she waka go our table.

She siddon like say na her papa get the place, collect menu from waiter.

AC dey blast for inside, but outside, generator hum dey faint faint. Waiter carry menu come, perfume and jollof smoke dey mix for air.

She cross leg, arrange napkin for lap, just dey scroll phone. Confidence choke. I dey wonder if na senator daughter or she dey run crypto.

I talk, “I no too sabi wetin you dey like chop, so I don order small small things. If you see wetin you want, abeg add am join.” My voice soft, I no wan do pass myself. For my mind, I dey calculate the bill already. Make I no go fall hand for public.

She bone me, no even ask wetin I don order, just dey give waiter order—like say she dey shoot advert for chocolate, smooth anyhow.

Waiter dey jot, she dey point for menu, dey flex accent. I dey observe—babe get taste.

Finally, she look me well, come talk half-joking: “Why you come old pass your picture?”

Sharp as her mouth sharp, I nearly choke on my own spit. Nobody don ever drop that kind line for me before for date.

Nobody ever call me old before. I shock small.

I come dey wonder if na my barbing no sharp or maybe my new beard dey add age join. Bros, all man dey sensitive for him own lane.

Maybe na just her style, I reason. She fit dey playful, I tell myself. Maybe na her own way to break ice. Lagos babes sabi run mouth.

I smile, wan talk something nice, but she just drop another one. Babe no even allow me gather my composure. She no send, just dey fire from all angle.

“I hear say you graduate from top university. With that kind degree, your salary suppose dey okay, abi?”

Babe dey dig credentials like say she dey do job interview. E shock me, but I just dey reason how I go answer.

I say, “E dey alright. Around ₦2 million every month.”

I no want make am look like say I dey brag, so I talk am like person wey dey humble. For my mind, na big money o!

She open mouth: “Only ₦2 million?”

The way she pronounce "only" ehn, you go think say she dey refer to pure water money. Only?

My hand shake small, I nearly pour water for table. For my mind, I dey calculate how many months salary fit buy this rice.

Na my turn to shock.

I adjust my seat small. So, na this kind level the matter dey? Na so so question wey go make person rethink him career path.

For 2022, average salary for Ibadan na just above ₦600,000. So anyhow you wan talk am, I dey do well, but the way she talk, e be like say I dey hustle for peanuts.

I dey calculate for my mind—person dey struggle for ₦50k job for mainland, this one dey downgrade ₦2 million. My spirit weak.

Before I fit talk, she don continue: “₦2 million sound big, but after tax, food, clothes, rent, transport, how much remain? Marriage, house, car, family, pikin—do the maths, e no reach anything.”

She break am down like say she be accountant for Pricewaterhouse. She dey quote cost like person wey just finish family meeting for December.

I ask, “So how much you dey earn?”

I go like hear, maybe na she dey run import-export or she dey do tech contract for Dubai.

“₦400,000.”

Omo, wahala don enter.

I bite tongue. Inside me, I dey reason say, ‘No be this same Nigeria we dey?’

After tax, I get ₦1.5 million left. She dey earn ₦400,000. But na me she dey tell say e no reach.

I dey reason, maybe na cruise, but her face serious. I just nod. This babe na case study.

She no even see anything wrong with am, just dey drop all those talk wey she pick from Instagram influencers.

Her mouth dey run like tap, as if she dey recite syllabus for online masterclass. I just dey sip my water.

“For girl, if you dey earn four or five hundred thousand, e good. All my friends dey earn like that.”

She dey talk her friends matter like say dem be wives of Lekki landlords. Me, I just dey look am. Soft life na everybody dream, but e get as e be.

“If I dey earn one or two million, and my boyfriend too dey earn that kind money, no be strange?”

The logic get as e be. I dey try find the arithmetic for my head. Na so the new calculation be?

“Na man suppose dey hustle, provide for family. Woman just need fine like flower. Na so e suppose be.”

As she talk am, she toss hair like Bimbo Ademoye for wedding scene. Na so my respect for old school Yoruba mothers increase.

All those kind talk.

Her voice dey high, body language dey bold. I dey imagine my mama hear this gist—she go just shake head say "world don spoil".

Whether you argue or not, everywhere just dey somehow.

The tension thick like ogbono soup, nobody wan drop guard. Waiter sef dey tiptoe, no wan make noise.

She ask again: “You no be from here, abi? Your parents help you buy house for Victoria Island?”

Na question wey dey bite. For my mind, I dey laugh. Na so person go show you pepper just for date.

Abeg, even if na blind date, must you start with salary and house matter?

If na normal Lagos runs, by now we for dey talk about weather or football. E shock me.

If two people go click, small talk you go know.

For my area, na gist about NYSC camp or Jollof rice dey open ground. This one just dey fire direct.

I don already know say nothing dey here, so I no even bother to yarn her true.

I just dey chop my sushi quietly, dey plan exit strategy for my mind.

I say, “I no wan depend on my parents.”

I talk am cool, no want look weak for her face. For my mind, I dey find way comot.

Maybe na my mind dey play trick, but e be like say she roll eye, then talk: “With your salary, you go dey save till old age before you fit buy house.”

Her voice low, but the shade loud. I just smile, dey pray make food land quick.

Thank God, food come that time.

Waiter land like angel, rescue my soul from interrogation. I just dey thank God for small mercies.

I tell her make she chop, she say, “Wait first.”

Babe get her own pattern—always one step ahead. She dey control the tempo.

I dey wonder if this babe na wahala wey I no fit finish.