I met Mr. Shomolu in my mother's canteen. He has the sort of appearance that is sexually appealing: tall, broad shouldered, well sculptured face, finely sprinkled grey hairs in his grown beard and when he tooth picked pieces of meat that got stuck in his teeth after he finished eating, I saw that his teeth was white and proportioned. He is simply my kind of man; I loved dating men that has earned the title "bachelor for life", the sort that makes my friends look at me in an askance way like something had to be off with me. I'm beautiful, they tell me, guys my age grade will do anything to be in my company yet I preferred elderly men. They don't understand, I don't think I do either. All I know is that I am simply drawn to them, maybe because I never received any sort of fatherly attention while growing. My father, I was told, ran away when he discovered that his sperm met a fertile egg in my mother's womb and formed me; to hell with him! This attractive male specimen in front of me deserves my flirty attention. He was drinking from a bottled water when I emerged from the corner where I was secretly watching him eat but as I got closer to his table, mother returned from the market. " Abigaaaaaail" she called in her usual manner. I excused myself from the customer and rushed out to help her bring in the stuffs she bought from the market but my mother's piercing scream as she entered the canteen had me rushing back in: she was passed out on the ground. when she came to, she said to me "Abigail, you met Shomolu, your father today."

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