The Search for Mr Right (E1 – E12)

E6 - The Search For Mr. Right:  Unparalleled

Hi, there. I’m here again. The unrepentant spinster. But wait! I guess all that is about to change. You would not believe what happened since the last time I wrote an episode. I’m so excited! Alright, alright, I’ll tell you all about it.

You know how Mr. Samson, my supervisor that I’m obsessed with, totally humiliated me in front of all my colleagues the other day? Well, I don’t think that’s something I’m going to be forgetting in a long time. I was livid, as anyone would be, and I could feel something sinister brewing in my heart for him. I was certain that I was going to hate him, but I’ve never been the one to hold grudges. Holding a grudge always has a worse effect on me than the person who I am holding it against. So, I let it go.

A normal man would apologize for what he did, but not him. Mr. Samson has not breathed a word in my direction since that day, and it’s been over one week now. Now that I can see how vile and stubborn he can be, I’m starting to feel like I don’t like him as much as I thought I did.

Anyways, my supervisor is not the center of this episode, it’s Adam. I bet the name doesn’t ring a bell, it didn’t to me too until a week ago.

…

While I was seated alone in the customer service call center thinking about my miserable life and my future at the company, I heard someone come in.

I looked up and realized the young man didn’t work in my department. At least, even if he did, we didn’t share the same office because I would have noticed him. He was beautiful. Just before I started drooling, and picking our wedding colors like the hopeless romantic fool I am, I snapped out of it.

“Hi.” As beautiful as he was, he wasn’t supposed to be in that office. Plus, I was all alone. Everybody in my corner of the office had gone for the meeting. Realizing that I could be in danger, my heart rate picked up, and I guess he noticed.

“Don’t be scared. I don’t bite.”

Red flag! Red flag!! Red flag!!!

At this point, I was already reaching for my phone in my purse. I had Grace on speed dial, and I was about to push the call button when he said, “Relax. I work here.” Just as he said it, he brought out his ID card and handed it to me. Adam Kolawole. Front-End Developer. Been working at the company for eight years. Phew!

I handed the card to him and pushed my phone back into my bag. “Do you need anything?”

“Not exactly.”

Who’s this guy? I was not in the mood for mind games, no matter how beautiful he was. “Then what are you doing here? You’re not supposed to be here.”

“I know. I was sent to your supervisor. He asked me to wait for him outside the boardroom. Unfortunately, I heard what happened when you came in.”

Fantastic. He witnessed my humiliation. “Okay?”

“Also, I’m a very bad gossip. My siblings tell me I might have a chronic gossip disorder, which is why I followed you here. I just need to know what happened to make Sam treat you like that. If I don’t know, I might never stop thinking about it.” He said with a small smile.

Once again, I ask, who is this guy? Chronic gossip? He must be joking if he thinks I would tell him anything with such an approach. “There’s nothing to tell. Maybe you should wait for the meeting to close. Some of my colleagues also share the same disorder you do, they would be glad to spill it all.”

“Feisty.”

His presence was beginning to irritate me, and I could feel a bad headache stirring up at the back of my head. If I have to endure one more aggravating situation, I might just implode. “Sir, Adam, can you leave, please?”

It was like this guy was deaf or something, because he just went behind me, brought out a hair, and sat down facing me. He crossed his legs, folded his arms, and looked straight at me. “I’m sorry I came on to you like that. That was a poor attempt at being funny, or intriguing, at the very least. I was trying too hard. I’m genuinely concerned. Are you okay?”

It had been a long time since anyone asked me that question, and I never knew that was exactly what I needed. For someone to care, ask me how I’m feeling. And here I was, almost breaking down in tears in front of a total stranger. My humiliation knew no bounds today. “I’m fine,” I said to him. I knew if I had tried to say anything extra, my eyes would be the ones running and not my mouth.

“You don’t look fine to me.”

“Of course, I’m not fine! But what do you expect me to do? Bare my heart and soul to a total stranger? No, I’m not that desperate, sorry.” I regretted those words the moment they left my mouth. He didn’t look fazed by my outburst though. He just smiled a little and continued to watch me.

He kept quiet after that, and so did I. I moved to take my phone, and that was when he had to stand up. “Alright, I’ll get going now. I just wanted to make sure you’re not jumping over a cliff anytime soon, but I can see you’re good, so my work here is done.”

I felt bad instantly. This was a man who didn’t know me from anywhere. He saw that I was humiliated, and just wanted to make sure I was alright. “I’m so sorry for the way I reacted. I shouldn’t have.”

“It’s no problem at all.”

“Thank you, Adam.”

He gave me one of those small smiles again, “Keep your head up, fine girl.” And with that, he walked out. For some reason, I couldn’t wipe the silly grin off my face.

…

That was a week ago. You would not believe that ever since that day, Adam has been coming to my office to ‘watch’ me. Absolutely crazy, right? I thought so too at first, but now, I’ve started getting used to his type of crazy. And even like it too.

At first, when he came the day after the incident in the boardroom, I was torn between excitement and confusion. He shuffled into my office leisurely some minutes before lunch and just stood in front of my desk like he was waiting for me. I was on the phone with a customer, and all I could to acknowledge his presence was a wave. He waved back and started smiling, and I started blushing. Grace looked up at the both of us confused and turned away herself. He waited until I finished the call while watching me the whole time.

I had barely dropped the call when he said to me, “Fine girl, how are you doing?”

What is it about him calling me ‘fine girl’ that makes me so hot and bothered? Everyone I know has been calling me that name since I was a little child. Now, when he said it, it sounded like a freaking mating call.

“Good afternoon, Adam,” I said with a smile. “I’m very fine, thank you. How are you?”

“Had a shitty morning. You’re making it better.”

Flirting at 1 pm?! I’m all for it. “Glad I’m being useful somewhere.”

“Work trouble?” He asked, concerned.

“Same old, same old.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not exactly,” I replied with a shrug.

“Okay. Well, I hope you’re hungry.”

“Famished.”

“Good. Amala or rice?”

I love him already. “Amala, please. But the lunch lady does not sell Amala.”

“Who said anything about the lunch lady? Let me take you to where the really hungry ones eat in this company. Come and have a taste of Amala and Ewedu that went to Harvard. Bougie, refined, and with a touch of Ibile.”

Image Source: Instagram/mycravingsdiary

I laughed out loud at this point. “After all this hyping, the Amala better be good.”

“Oh, trust me. It’s better than good. It’s the creme de la creme of Amala.”

Fast forward to seven working days later, and I’ve been on eight Amala dates and two movie dates. Every Amala date was like a therapy session. Usually, I’m an excellent talker when there’s food in my mouth. One of the bad habits my mother is trying so hard to break. Plus, Amala always gave me a soothing feeling. By the end of that week, Adam already knew more about me than my own mother. And for some reason, he kept inviting me for more amala dates.

It’s almost too good to be true.

A new week started and I couldn’t wait until it was lunchtime. Like clockwork, Adam was right in front of me ten minutes to 1 pm.

“Up for some bougieness today, Mademoiselle?”

“Oui, oui, Monsieur. Tu parle francais? Magnifique!” I responded in the only French words I know.

“She has changed it for me. I dey joke oh!” He screamed in horror.

“I think say you strong.” I was still laughing when a message popped up on my phone.

It read, “I need to see you in my office. Now.”

Sent by none other than my freaking supervisor.

All photos are gotten from pexels.com and no attribution is required