This is the perfect match

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Wait let me tell you a story about the perfect match

Mensah thinks I cannot see through his shenanigans. He accosted me yesterday for the umpteenth time and tried unsuccessfully to talk me into going out with him. I was in an irritable mood. Dr. Kodjo’s lecture had dragged on for too long and by the time the man left the class, I was dog tired and hungry. I wasted no time in shooing Mensah off.

Today I have been informed that Mensah had put up my picture on his WhatsApp profile and he is telling his contacts that I am his girlfriend. It was Akosua my bestie who alerted me when she called this morning.

“Ama, you didn’t tell me about your new boyfriend, Mensah Smith”

“Who? Mensah? I am not dating him! He is just one of those annoying guys on the campus who wouldn’t let me rest with advances. I told you about him, he has ulterior motives”

“He is using your picture as his WhatsApp dp and he is telling everybody that he is your boyfriend! your perfect match”

“See me see wahala! The boy is desperate and crazy! Please give me his number let me blast him off. He is not even my type of man, for one, he has a poor dress sense. You know I have a thing for fashionable guys!”

“You are right, I saw him recently wearing an oversized polo”

“He wears third-hand clothes hawked in Kejetia market!”

“But Ama, I have been thinking about you, you need to start thinking of having a serious relationship, you are in final year and would soon graduate”

“Akosua, do you have someone for me paa?”

“Maybe, I will arrange the perfect match for you!”

“He’d better be rich and handsome!”

Akosua is a matchmaker, she is always matchmaking her friends with the guys on campus. I trust her judgment. She once ran a dating site that got a couple of people hooked up. But it later went aground for lack of patronage from the ladies. There were too many guys looking for cheap girls.

I don’t have a boyfriend and I am frankly not interested in the guys here. They are all broke students. The rich ones have been snapped up. I need a classy man. I need someone I can proudly showcase to my parents. I don’t need all these banku eating and akpetishie drinking boys who cannot afford to give me thirty thousand Cedis for shopping at Accra Mall.

I hate Kumasi, the city has always been too fast-paced and strange for me. I prefer my coastal Tema with the port. My parents had insisted I study Architecture at Kwame Nkrumah University of science and technology against my wish of studying in Accra. I don’t blame them, they are both alumni of Knust and still retain nostalgic memories of the institution.

Today is one of those rainy days with the torrential rain pouring down. I am curled up in bed at my off-campus residence. My house is a one-bedroom flat with a living room, bedroom, kitchen, and bathroom. I love my privacy and left the school hostel at the end of my first year.

I am craving Tatale. It’s been long since I last tasted that delicacy. Akosua had promised to come over after her lectures. She is going to help me make some waatse and shitɔ sauce to be eaten with rice.

She is right. I need to start thinking of having a relationship. I have been very cold to men, as cold as a bottle of coke in mama Farhanah’s roadside stall. I need a companion, a loving man to share my thoughts, aspiration and life with, not the likes of the poorly dressed Mensah.

The perfect match for me is a young handsome and fashionable man with a good job in a good company. I wouldn’t mind if he is an abroni. He must have a duplex in East Legon and drive a nice car. I am not a materialistic girl but I want the good life.mMy fingers are crossed, waiting to see whom Akosua would introduce as the perfect match for me.

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