You don’t need the nitty-gritty details of the buffet; it would probably bore you. But in summary, I had an amazing time. By the end of the day, I had completely forgotten that I had left my house in a mourning mood earlier that morning.
After eating, we strolled out to the car park, chatting about his hilarious encounter with a police officer. His story had me laughing so hard I was wiping tears from my eyes. I felt so comfortable around him—more comfortable than I’d ever been with any other guy. Perhaps it was because I wasn’t expecting anything from him. I only saw him as a friend, and that took away any pressure to impress. It was refreshing, and I liked how at ease I felt.
We leaned on my car for another 20 minutes, trying to wrap up our stories.
“If we continue like this, the security guys will think we’re plotting to kidnap one of their guests,” Yemi joked.
“You actually look like a kidnapper with your beard gang and shiny bald head,” I teased back.
“Just admit you’re tripping for my looks,” he said, stroking his beard and winking at me.
I scoffed. “It’s either you’re deceiving someone, or someone’s deceiving you.”
We laughed, and I gave him a quick hug before turning to head to my car. Just as I was about to leave, he held my hand and slipped a piece of paper into my palm.
I unfolded it—it was a cheque.
A cheque for 450,000 Naira.
I froze, unsure how to react. My mind raced as I tried to process what was happening.
“What’s this for?” I asked.
“To cushion the effect of the money you lost,” he replied. “I know it’s not the full amount, but it’ll help, don’t you think?”
I stared at him, speechless.
“Why are you doing this?”
“Don’t get me wrong,” he began. “I know the money isn’t your biggest pain, but it’s still a significant loss. That money could have gone to something meaningful, and instead, it was thrown away. I may not be able to cover the full cost, but I can help share the burden—as a friend. Isn’t that what friends are for? Inconveniences like this?” He chuckled and lightly patted my arm—not in a flirtatious way, but with confidence and sincerity.
A tingling sensation ran from the point of contact up my spine. Oh no. I shouldn’t be feeling this way.
I hugged him, holding on for a good 30 seconds. I was overwhelmed with gratitude. It wasn’t just about the money; it was his thoughtfulness. The fact that he even considered helping to ease the burden of my loss touched me deeply. I knew then that Yemi was a friend worth keeping.
We said our goodbyes, and I got into my car. He waited until I drove off before heading to his own vehicle.
As I drove, I turned off the radio. I needed silence to process everything that had happened with Yemi. It all felt surreal—like a dream or an unexpected reality. I couldn’t understand why I was warming up to him.
I thought back to our first meeting. He didn’t have the striking looks or swagger of someone like Daniel, but there was something genuinely humane about him. I saw it in the way he treated the waiters, the security guards, and everyone we interacted with. It was endearing.
I caught myself and snapped back to reality. Dami, you just got burned. You should be nursing your wounds, not entertaining warm, fuzzy feelings for anyone.
Still, no matter how hard I tried, thoughts of Yemi wouldn’t leave my mind. I turned the radio back on. Aunt Landa’s Life Issues was on, and a woman called in to share her story. She spoke about how her husband of eight years had left her and their two daughters for another woman who claimed to be pregnant with his son.
I was appalled. How could a man abandon his family over something so trivial and uncertain? The thought drifted, and I found myself wondering: Would Yemi do something like that?
I chuckled at my train of thought. Dami, you’re really ahead of yourself. The guy hasn’t even asked you out, and here you are analyzing his moral fiber.
I smirked and mentally hailed myself, “Dami the Bay Bay, I salute you!”
Just then, my phone rang—it was Yemi.
“Hi, Dami. Are you home? I just got back,” he said.
“Thanks for reminding me that I live on the mainland while you enjoy life on the Island.”
He burst into laughter. “That means you’re still on the road. I’d better let you go before LASTMA officials confiscate your car for the night!”
“You’re so unserious. Talk to you later, jare.”
I was still smiling after the call ended. Yemi, with all his seriousness, was surprisingly jovial. At this rate, Dami, you’ll soon start analyzing how good he is in bed, I joked to myself.
When I got home, I called Yemi.
“Just letting you know I’m home. Hope you’re all set for bed,” I said.
That simple call turned into a long, meaningful conversation. We talked until 10 p.m. before I excused myself to shower and prepare for the week ahead. It was one of the most mature conversations I’d had in a long time. His questions were thoughtful, his insights sharp. He even offered fresh perspectives on my work in PR and communications.
That night, I went to bed feeling ecstatic. For the first time in a while, I was genuinely looking forward to speaking with someone the next morning.