3 min read

A Date, a Crash, and a Broken Illusion

A Date, a Crash, and a Broken Illusion
Photo by René Ranisch / Unsplash

Today, I went on a date with Phillip Ajiboye. I met him a few months ago at the popular Iya Yusuf Restaurant in Oja-Oba, Ilorin, on my way to get a first-hand experience of her meals and to satiate my hunger. I was in Ilorin for my bestie Esther's traditional wedding but decided to stay after the celebration to experience the beautiful city.

Phillip seemed like a nice gentleman and a charmer with a great sense of humor; he related to almost all the stories I shared with him. It wasn’t hard to befriend him, and we explored some nice places in the city.

In summary, since I am not a social media person, we exchanged contacts and communicated via texts and voice calls. He often teased me about it, and I would tell him I would join one soon. I wake up to his texts, and his voice is almost the last sound I hear before having a shut-eye.

Even when we returned to Lagos, we still kept in touch. One time, we had planned on meeting after work at a bar on the island, but we canceled. So, today, we decided that we would hang out no matter what. I was excited to my core to see him, and I would like to think he was happy to see me, too. The night was young, and we had small talks about family, friends, work, and everything there was to talk about over a bottle of fine wine and a delicious meal. Again, he was his charming self and offered to drop me off. Being a Friday, we anticipated traffic, but this was worse; it was a standstill.

To keep us company, we listened to a talk show on the radio about female circumcision and ways to stop it. We chatted a bit about it, and then I dozed off, only to be jolted from dreamland when I heard a crashing sound.

Phillip and I turned to stare at each other briefly before alighting to find out what had happened and assess the extent of the damage. Accidentally, a bus in front of us reversed and hit his car, damaging the left headlight, a few scratches with a few scratches here and there. I was stunned.

His mood and countenance changed dramatically as if a switch had gone off. The driver from the other vehicle alighted, and the few passengers on the bus. Nothing, and I mean absolutely nothing, could have prepared me for the scene that unfolded before my eyes.

He’d gone from a charming gentleman to a raging hippo! Undoubtedly, the bus driver wasn’t ready to acknowledge his fault and apologize, which infuriated him even more. The driver knew that accepting responsibility meant footing the bills for repairs and, even by my estimation, could cost over 100 grand. Phillip, who was extremely articulate, had switched to pidgin and was spitting it like water.

All I heard was the back and forth among the men and pleading passengers

Phillip roared and hit his fist on the car window several times in a King Kong manner, erupting all forms of obscenities from his mouth while I tried to calm him down. He ignored me and rushed towards the bus to get the driver’s car key. The passengers ran for their dear life while I stood stunned. Never have I seen such a display of anger before.

As if that wasn’t enough, he hit the boot of the driver’s bus and pushed me so hard I fell on my butts and twisted my ankle. He blamed me for the accident and continued uttering all sorts of obscenities that shook me. Turning to face the physically frightened driver, he grabbed him by the collar and kept threatening him. Some of the passengers rushed to my side to help me up while the others pleaded for mercy on behalf of the driver.

All I wanted to do was leave the scene immediately to nurse my emotions and twisted ankle in peace. I couldn’t wait to the end, not with my twisted ankle. I limped to get my purse from Phillip’s car and ordered a cab to the hospital and then home. That was the last time I saw and heard from him.