My ankles hurt. Walking in heels is not as exciting as the women I see on Instagram make it seem. You would wonder why I simply did not remove it, but I prefer to maintain class regardless of the pain I was in. Don’t blame me, I’ve been taking lessons from Bob. I can’t wait for the day to be over so I can go back to wearing crocs, as it’s the only footwear my feet finds comfort in. Today is Lilian’s introduction ceremony, I’m happy for her but not as excited as I would be if I were still a teenager or maybe in my early twenties. Those were the years in which I enjoyed family gatherings. But who am I not to turn up for my favorite cousin. 

This ceremony is a chance for the aunties to throw a barrage of questions at me, “do you think you’re getting any younger?” “Did you turn your back on men after Femi?” “Why are you still single?” They asked these questions loudly but then whisper to themselves, “Abi is she into women?”

I can’t even deal with their questions right now. I need a cold drink, something to cool my insides and take my mind off the throbbing pain around my ankles. I was walking to the blue round drum where drinks were stored at the corner of the garden when I sighted him among a group of people that sat in couple pairs, except for him. ‘Is he still single too?’ I asked myself. I was almost reaching the drum when I saw him stand up, I panicked and tripped on a stone. ‘Too bad Ifeoluwa, too bad’ I scolded myself, everyone’s falling in love and I’m falling behind a drum filled with assorted drinks.