Alhaji! Alhaji!

Lord why am I here? I hate conferences.


Er... You insisted that you be the one to attend.


That’s only because the said it would be filled with bankers and top notch people from the financial sector. I thought it with would be a hotties with money fest, but so far all I’m getting is pot bellied accountants in badly fitting suits. I’m bored. I have no interest in the money market or mobile money. All I’m interested in is having enough money for shoes, Vodka and the occasional boob job in Brazil when everything starts to head south. Oh well, at least it’s almost lunch time and I can finally attack the buffet. That’s the only high point of attending these loser conferences. The free food.



Yum. Having decided that there is no one to impress at this waste of my Friday afternoon, I have decided to throw caution to the wind and eat like there is no tomorrow. My plate resembles a mini leaning tower of Pisa and I will probably never be invited to another conference at Eko hotel again seeing as I almost caused a riot by taking all the crispy fried shrimp. I also have a chicken thigh and some éclairs, wrapped in tissue hidden in my handbag incase I get peckish during the afternoon round of torture. I found myself a nice little corner to sit and happily devoured my lunch. I was busy licking my fingers (I said I was hot. I never said I was a lady) when I hear a voice behind me say “Hi”



Damn! I was mid lick and not in the mood to be disturbed. My mother refuses to buy shrimp in the house, due to the astronomical prices, let alone fry them in a yummy crispy coating, so I refuse to let anyone spoil my groove. But it could be a client and it wouldn’t do to have word get back to the boss about my behavior so far. So I wipe my fingers and turn round reluctantly to return the greeting



Huba, huba…who let you out of modeling school and put you in a bad ass suit? Oh Lord! Please let him be a potential client. It would so improve my work ethic. I would work on his account overtime, weekends, public holidays and would carry around emergency pyjamas in case sleep over work is required.



“Hello”



“I’m … (Lets call him the Alhaji cause he has a Muslim name) and I just noticed you sitting here all by yourself and I thought I’d come over to keep you company.”



Hot and caring. We should just skip the pleasantries and find an empty broom cupboard to get better acquainted in. We can discuss marriage later.



“That’s nice of you. I’m Mena. I’m an Account Manager at “Wish you I had a better job” Ltd.”



“Nice to meet you Mena. I’m Head of Credit Facilities at “I get paid mega bucks and have a yearly bonus that would blow your mind” Ltd.” He says handing me his card.



Oh my God! I think I’m about to start hyperventilating. Hot, Platinum bank account and mega cool job title. I want him. Now! I can already imagine introducing myself as Mrs.Alhaji, the wife of the mega hot hottie with money. My own don better.



You better not mess this up Mena.



Don’t worry brain. Just leave this to Mama



We spend the next 20 minutes talking and as he gets up to leave he asks if he can call me outside office hours. It takes every ounce of self control I’ve got to stop myself from getting up to do the “I’m bad” shuffle. Yep! I still got it. Mena’s sultry seductive vibes are still working. It’s all in the hair toss and girly giggle ladies. Learn from me. The rest of the conference goes by in a heart beat as I am no longer listening to anything anyone is saying. I’ll deal with the fall out when I get back to the office. Instead I am busy goggling him on my blackberry.



Hmmm…not a lot of info about him. Ok, not good but no need to panic. He’s on face book but I can’t see all the juicy stuff without becoming his friend. I think it might be a bit stalkerish if I send a friend request now. So I will be patient and send a bb message to everyone I know to find out some info for me. So all in all the day hasn’t been a total bust.



Ring damn you! Ring. It’s been 5 hours and he hasn’t called. He said he would call me later. It’s later by my book and the phone ain't ringing. Lying bastard. I ought to stomp over to his office right now and demand an explanation.



Mena…breathe. Remember what the therapist said about the need to suppress your stalking tendencies.



It’s not my fault brain. They all make it so hard.



Riiiiinnnggg



Could it be? Hooorayyyy.



"Jesus loves me this I know. For the bible tells me so…"



Are you going to pick up the phone?



Calm down brain. Let’s not act desperate.



Crazy woman.



I heard that.



4th ring. Ok now we can pick it up



5 minutes later and all is well with the world. I have a date with Alhaji  on Monday and sometime in the near future I might just be able to move out of this asylum. We’ll have to keep it on the down low though, so Crazy Mama doesn’t find out. Now…what to wear.



Is it Monday yet?

No its Saturday.

Is it Monday yet?

No dumbo. It's Sunday!

Is it Monday yet? Yes it is! Hooray!



"The sun has got his hat on, hip-hip-hip-hooray


The sun has got his hat on and he’s coming out today


Now we’ll all be happy, hip-hip-hip-hooray


The sun has got his hat on and he’s coming out today"



I’m so excited. He’s picking me up from work so my outfit has to be work appropriate but sexy. Shoes…killer heels. Make up…subtle but sultry. Underwear…OK, lets not be a total whore. It’s only the first date. I shall repeat my first date mantra all day to get myself in the right frame of my mind. “I shall not vacate my knickers. I shall not vacate my knickers.”



That clock can’t be right it’s almost 5 o’clock and Grumpy is still talking. Damn these weekly review meetings. Why can’t we just have them in the morning like all our other crappy meetings? He’s picking me up in an hour and I’m going to need that long to redo my make, readjust my boobies and get my hair into that tousled Beyonce look. Sod this; I’m getting out of here.



"Sir!" I say pushing my chair back and standing up.



"Yes Ms.Mena?"



"Sir I’ve got my monthlies and I have really bad cramps. I need to leave now please."



The room goes silent and I think Boli Lover just lost all lustful intentions towards me. Like I care. I’ll deal with the consequences of putting my monthly cycle out there when I become Mrs.Alhaji. But that ain’t gonna happen if I’m stuck here with these losers.



"Erm.Well. Erm...This is highly irregular but, ok, please do what you have to do. You are excused."



See you later office crazies. Mena’s off to get her future hubby.



He’s here and if it’s possible he looks even hotter than last time. “I shall not vacate my knickers.”



He smells good, Joes playing softly in the car and I’ve just noticed he’s got the sexiest little gap in his teeth.



We shall not vacate our knickers.



Shut it brain. Under the circumstances I’m sure everyone would understand if I somehow lost my knickers between now and the time I get home.



We end up at a lovely bar and I swear people, I’m tingling all over. I’m busy listening to his dreamy voice when a little thought pops in my head and before I can stop myself, I interrupt him by asking



“Are you married?”



He looks at me and the silence is a bit too long for my liking. I’m starting to get a nasty feeling in the pit of my stomach and Mena doesn’t like it.



“Would it matter if I was?”



Hold up! Wait a minute…Alhajjiiiiii! Na English you just talk or is that some new street slang way of saying “Hell no! I ain’t married”?



“No duh! Of course it would matter if you were married.”



“Really? Are you married?” he asks



“We’re on a date. Why would I be out on date with you if I was married?”



“Welllll…OK, I am married.”



If I wasn’t enjoying my Bloody Mary so much, I would have thrown it on him. But I ain’t wasting a perfectly good cocktail on this cheating bastard.



“So why ask me out if you’re married?”



“I saw you and there was just something about you. I was drawn to you.”



Drawn to me my ass. I suggest you start focusing your magnetic pull on your missus at home. I swear if I wasn’t wearing 5 inch heels,which I can barely walk in, I would have stormed out of here.



“Look I wasn’t trying to pull a fast one on you. I really think we could have something here and I’m not a player or anything. I’m looking for something serious. Maybe even marriage.”



Ma wetin?? See me see trouble. Alhaji, Alhaji wants to make me iyawo kekere. Wife number 2? Not in this life time sugar. I haven’t waited this long for a man so I could share bedroom privileges with Alhaja.



“That’s very nice. That you’re so attracted to me but I think its time you took me home.”



“So you really don’t think we can be friends?”



“Oh we can be friends alright. You know, the kind that you only speak to once a year at Christmas.”



“I think you’re being a little hard on me. Just think about it and who knows, you might find it in your heart to give me a chance. I think I can make you happy.”



So true. You probably could have made me happy with your hot body and your many, many credit cards. Alas! It was not meant to be.Take me home sweet talker, so I can go sob my eyes out.



I am soooooooooooooo tired of this. OK! Listen up guys…



PLEASE DO NOT ASK ME OUT IF YOU ARE MARRIED, ENGAGED, DATING OR EVEN CONSIDERING ANOTHER WOMAN!!!



Mena will no longer stand for it and will fully utilize her MOPO’s to ensure that all culprits will never be able to make "Happy" again. I have spoken. Now leave me alone. I need a good cry before I head back to the drawing board.