‘Well, that wasn’t awkward at all was it?’ he said, smirking.
‘Ugh, don’t even get me started, man. I’m going to try and not make it too awkward, though – he’s OK, really. Anyway, what’s going on with you? You got four cases of Samsonite luggage underneath each eye. You all right?’
Kofi laughed and patted his eyes lightly, stifling a huge yawn.
‘Yeah, I’m good. Didn’t go to sleep until three a.m. though. I was, erm, I was on the phone.’ Kofi attempted to swivel his chair back before I was able to stop him and swivel him back to face me. He looked up at me through his finger-smeared glasses, then quickly looked away bashfully. I knew exactly what he’d been up to.
‘Speaking with Sade, huh? Oh boy, you guys have it bad, don’t you?!’ I teased. Their interactions with each other brought me so much joy.
‘Oh, shut up man!’ Kofi retorted, trying desperately to hide a smile. ‘You don’t know what you’re on about, it’s not like that at all.’ He returned to his desk and I returned to mine; silence followed us for the next couple of minutes until I couldn’t resist:
‘I bet you were in bed grinning your teeth and kicking your feet in the air like a schoolgirl the whole night, huh?’
‘Maybe,’ came Kofi’s response. He told me that he was planning to take Sade to one of the local bars near his housethat evening, which led to me giving him the rundown over how I expected him to behave.
‘Now, as I said earlier,’ I began as I typed up a GP referral, ‘this isn’t a dating app situation where you can just ghost her or treat her weird and dip. You’re accountable to me if this goes tits up, you hear me?’
‘I hear you,’ replied Kofi; I could almost hear the smile in his voice.
‘And if you guys are going to make whoopie tonight—’
‘Wait – make what? What the heck does that mean?’ replied Kofi, laughing.
‘Make whoopie! Having sex! Wait, don’t the kids say that any more? Ugh – we’re really losing recipes this generation, aren’t we? ANYWAY, if you guys must feel the need to do-the-do, just remember to use protection, and be aware that, as my best friend, Sade will at some point give me a play-by-play of the events that go down, so keep that in mind when you’re romancing, innit?’
Kofi stood up and stared at me, incredulous.
‘You guys are actually sick, you know that?’ he said eventually, kissing his teeth. ‘Women! Anyway, I’m going to grab a coffee, want one?’
‘I could murder a flat white if you’re offering!’ I said in response.
The rest of the day went by without much interruption, with only Jeff and a couple of the other doctors swinging by the office a few times with things for us to do. That afternoon, Kofi had to attend an outpatient clinic with one of the spinal surgeons, leaving me in the office alone to ponder tonight’s date with Jericho. I opened up theOuiMeetapp (I restricted myself to checking the app just once or twice a day – I didn’t want to get too obsessed with him) to see his response to my earlier message:
Oh, you’re pretty central, aren’t you? Lucky you! OK in terms of options we can do the following: Flor de Samba if you’re into Brazilian food, Vagabond Bar in Battersea Power Station if you like your wines, The Alchemist Bar if you want to be a bit experimental with your drinks, Cinnamon Kitchen in the Power Station for Indian food, or … a Wetherspoons. :)
Jericho was like my own littleTime Outcity guide when it came to this whole dating thing and I absolutely loved it, although he really thought he ate with the little Wetherspoons mention at the end. I enjoyed his humour, and the more I reread his messages, the more I could feel myself growing feelings for him. Damnit. He was doing all the right things, and I was eating it up.
I settled on drinks, hoping it might get him to open up to me a little more. Was that manipulative? Only time would tell. I replied back, smiling:
I love how organised you are; you must be an Earth sign, am I right? Thank you for sending through this list; I’m not the biggest fan of Indian food, so I quite like the idea of The Alchemist, to be honest. What do you think? It would be cool to try out some quirky cocktails with you. Also, Wetherspoons? You’re a comedian. By the way, I’m totally bringing my Nintendo with me – you think I’m kidding? I need this shit solved immediately.
Satisfied with my response and excited about the evening, I worked through the rest of my workload with methodical precision, making sure my consultants had follow-up appointments with their inpatients, scheduling meetings for various doctors and tackling a few difficult orthopaedic patients on the phone. I left Kofi in the office for lunch as I headed to the cafeteria to grab a bite to eat. I’d taken my headphones with me, so asnot to be disturbed; I really wanted to get into the zone for tonight, which meant turning on a nineties R&B playlist and letting Boyz II Men take me away.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Jeff standing in line to pay for his food. Instinctively, I tried to avoid eye contact, but it was too late – he’d already seen me and started to wave erratically. God, he was cheesy. Forcing a quick smile, I waved back and tapped my earphones, signalling that I was on a call. Thankfully, he got the hint, nodded, and headed to the far end of the cafeteria to join a group of other consultants. Phew. I was fresh out of small talk that day. I returned to the solace of my food and my music; Mya slid seamlessly into Destiny’s Child, their harmonies dripping with promises of honeyed love and devotion. I poked at my meal, wondering what being in a relationship was actually like. According to the R&B babes, it sounded like the sweetest thing on earth; silky, effortless and beautiful. I’d suddenly realised in that moment that since speaking to Jericho, I hadn’t opened up any of my dating apps once, which was quite the achievement. With Destiny’s Child still in my ears belting out the lyrics to ‘Dangerously in Love’, I opened up Hinge and took a brief look at the offerings on parade for the women of London today:
Fraser, 34, Brixton. Freelance Creative. ‘Message me if you’re a gym nut like me. Under thirties with athletic bodies only.’
Emmanuel, 39, Stoke Newington. Creative. ‘Don’t just message me saying ‘hi’. Be a woman of substance. Don’t message if u have masculine energy.’
Robert, 36, Stockwell. Finance (Crypto). ‘Looking for my Lori Harvey, Chloe Bailey or Zendaya!!! Holla at man if you look like any of them innit xx.’
Malachi, 33, Shepherd’s Bush. Entrepreneur. ‘Here for casual dates only. Say hi.’
Jesus Jerome Christ.
I took a deep exhale as I closed the app. I could see why so many peers of mine were beginning to date internationally at this point. I’d been reading more and more think pieces lately from women who were in long-distance relationships, waxing lyrical about the benefits of dating someone from a completely different culture. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about taking an impromptu trip to New York for a week or two, just to check out the local talent. Desperate times called for desperate measures.
I ate the rest of my meal in silence, while casually swiping through different guys’ profiles on the main three dating apps I was on. I’d decided that I couldn’t just rest all my laurels on Jericho – I still had to actively put myself out there, lest I randomly one day come across my Prince Charming. As I swiped, I saw a notification ping from the family group chat; it was from my mum and she sounded mad:
