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You know, it’s not my habit to waylay women in streets just to make overtures to them. But, this very one I considered it foolishness of monumental proportions to have allowed her pass by without trying my luck to woo her.


“Salaam,” I announced as I proliferated my steps to keep pace with her. It took her almost a minute before she condescended to acknowledge me. I deduced that it was because she knew the magnitude of the sin of disregarding the one that wished you well, she wouldn’t have deigned to listen to me because it was obvious we belong to different social classes. She must be from a posh background while I’m diametrically opposite.


She’s extremely gorgeous and scantily dressed in swanky English wears, elegantly tall and light-skinned with and excellent, near-perfect and oval-shaped physiognomy and teenaged in her late twenties.


She wore a pair of long golden earrings that matched the colour of the grandeur and exorbitantly expensive necklace, wearing a ritzy, short-sleeved and silky T-Shirt that was bedecked with colourful flowers and too scanty to cover the golden waist-beads that dangled precariously around her broad waist. She wore dark-blue verging on black jeans dotted with some shiny stone and very tight-fitted to her body that it was even hampering her movement.


Her feet nestled in a pair of lace-ups and high-heeled costly shoes that every fashion-conscious woman dreams of making them her latest acquisition.
The wafer-thin and transparent scarf on her head hardly covered 30% of her long, blonde and lustrous hair that tumbled and cascaded onto her shoulders.


Her neatly-manicured right hand was clasping a fashionable iPhone 7 and the left one carelessly handling a small and furry purse flaunting three-set of golden rings and her soft-textured wrist nestled in a swanky and thin-laced wristwatch. Her left ear was plugged with a wire-less headphones that was connected to the phone in her hand.


She suddenly stopped and turned around to face me when she realized that I was still following her like a shadow. Her facial expression was lugubrious. I stopped walking, facing her and faking a toothless smile while deep inside my mind, I was doubting the genuineness of her being a human; the pungent scent of her perfume waxing along by the cool breeze of the evening.


“What’s up? ” She asked me with a posh accent, her soft lips immersed in a bright red lipstick wiggled as she chewed a banana-flavoured chewing- gum.


“Please, can I have some minutes out of your prized time? ” I asked, obsequiously trying to button up my open-necked ragged collared shirt.


“Just say what you want to say,” she said, glancing at her wristwatch.


“Please, don’t be offended by what I wi……..”


“Okay, okay, okay, it’s okay, financial assistance, right? ” She asked me rhetorically, then unzipped her pursed and produced some crisp foreign currency from it and then proceeded to give them to me simpering.


“No!” I rejected the offer, exuding sheer disappointment.


“C’mon, just take them. I don’t retain money if I bring them out of my purse.” she insisted.


“You interrupted me. This is not what I wanted to ask,” I explained grinning widely.


“What did you want to ask, let me know because I want to take my leave,” she said, obviously getting annoyed and still holding the money.


“Well, please can I have your phone number?” I asked smiling gently at her.


Her countenance instantly changed to sheer aggression. She gently and stylishly took her tinted-glasses off her eyes to see me clearly, and again fluttered her lush eyelashes looking down on me with sheer contempt. My sweaty face reflected in her dark-black eyeballs that wallowed in the abyss of the fish-shaped eyes.


“Oh! I see. It was the dark glasses I wore that made my vision blurry and glamorized this washed-out so-called shirt of yours. Look at the torn jeans you’re wearing. Look again at the slippers on your feet. See your untidy hair and still you have audacity to ask for my number? Are you in possession of your senses? ” She asked me, furiously pointing at the parts of my body that she mentioned.


I have never been disgraced like that by someone before and I never imagined myself being verbally humiliated by a woman.


She continued, “Like you’re feeling the pang of embarrassment likewise I’m feeling it. I would have literally fainted if I was with my friends. You would have made me an object of derision. That is why I loathe coming to filthy environments like this where illiterates, uncivilized and hopeless people like you are live.” She said fuming.


“You shouldn’t be insulting people just because I asked for your number that is not the code of the portal of heaven ” I said to her gentlemanly.


“I wouldn’t have been disgraced by poor and impecunious man like you if I came by a car,” she lamented and to my utmost surprise, I saw tears running down her cheek. ‘How did I disgraced her? Just because I requested for her phone number?’ I asked myself these questions in my mind.


“I’m not crying just because you asked for my number. You will be surprised if I tell you what made me to condescend to trek in this dirty and godforsaken part of the world and jeopardized my prized life by inhaling the contaminated air of this place,” she said, mopping away the tears that blemished her simple make-up.


She threw the money at me and turned away, heading forward.


“Sareena!” I read the name that I saw written boldly on the back of her shirt in golden colour.
“Sareena!” I shouted the name again and she quickly turned, looking at me……


Read more here:

https://schooltalk.com.ng/that-awkward-moment-with-her/