A Short Story: Most people have horrible stories when it comes to first dates but Moke is glad when her first date goes very well, that is until someone from her past introduces himself.

By Enagwolo U

"You're making that up! There's no way that happened!" I was cackling like a hyena.

"It sure did," he said, his eyebrows moving excitedly.

I sipped wine as he shared the details of his latest anecdote.

Anyone watching us at the restaurant would never have guessed we were on a first date.

Last Saturday, I dragged my two best friends, Laura and Julia, to an African Students Association event. Thirty minutes into it, as we were devising a plan to discreetly leave, Julia spotted him. He was about 6’3, light skinned, toned like a male model and owned a smile that could melt the North Pole. After twenty minutes of intense staring, a few arguments, followed by a few rounds of 'rock, paper, scissors,' Julia won the opportunity to approach him.

So you can imagine my surprise when shortly after, a frowning Julia returned with him in tow and introduced us. Ten minutes later, Moke and I separated ourselves from the group and spent the rest of the evening as a twosome.

For a week, I’d wondered why he’d picked me over my friend, so I asked.

“You don’t like that I came to talk to you instead?”

“No. That’s not it. It’s just that she’s so beautiful. All the guys always go for her. I’m just wondering why you didn’t. ”

He was nodding his head. “Yes, she is beautiful, but so are you. In fact I find you more attractive.”

I blushed. “Really?”

He looked at me like I was crazy. “Of course, don’t you see that?”

“I guess so.” I really didn’t know how to respond. “So you came to talk to me because you thought I was more beautiful?” I figured I'd milk it because, well... why not?

“Yes... no... I don’t know. I just had a feeling about you. Like I knew you or something. Actually, more like you were someone I should know. So I went with that. And I’m glad I did. Aren’t you?”

“What do you think?”

We spent the rest of the evening talking and flirting shamelessly and if the restaurant didn’t have to close, we would have stayed there till daybreak because neither of us paid any attention to the time.

On the ride home I couldn’t help but be tickled by the entire situation. All my life I’d dealt with useless, unsupportive, uncaring, selfish leeches and like a dream, he'd stepped into my life.

As we walked to the entrance door of my dormitory, I looked at him and said, “So...”

“So, did you have a great time?” he said through smiling lips.

“Of course I did. Can’t you tell?” I giggled hoping he didn't recognize that it was a ruse to mask raging nerves.

“Would I be jumping into conclusions by assuming that means you’d like to do this again?”

“Well, that depends… did you have a good time? And would you like to do this again?” I teased looking into his eyes.

He looked back into mine and before I knew it, I was putting my hands on the back of his neck and pulling his face dangerously close to mine.

“What do you think?” He asked sexily as his hands slipped to the small of my back and he pulled my body to his. Before I could respond, I felt his soft lips imploring mine. Slowly and surely my brains turned into mush. He expertly and passionately kissed me in a playful and very romantic fashion that I found myself matching his every move. We spent about 5 minutes stuck like glue before we heard the church bells chime 12 times. I broke away from him as I was jolted back into reality. However, I noticed that my actions confused him.

“Remember, I have my church thing tomorrow?” I explained.

“I would suggest you ditch, but I don’t want to find myself mysteriously struck by lightning on the way home.”

“No, that wouldn’t be good.” We laughed.

“So,” he said, clapping his hands, “we’ve not actually solidified any plans. What should we do next? I would say a dinner and a movie but look what happened today.” We had planned to see a movie after our dinner.

I thought about it. “Well, there’s a movie I really wanna see so maybe we see the movie first next time?” We were both grinning like fools. “How about next Friday?”

He softly caressed my face. “ But Friday seems so far away.”

“That’s why telephones were invented. You can always call me.”

He groaned. “Yeah, but I want to see you before then.”

“How about after my meeting tomorrow? We are usually done by noon. So what about lunch at... at about… one?” I stammered because his alluring eyes were working wonders on my psyche.

He pulled my face close to his as he kissed my lips. “It’s a date.”

I turned to leave but changed my mind. A nagging question had been on my mind for the past week so I chose to satisfy my curiosity.

"Moke, can I ask you a question?” I asked sheepishly.

“Sure, what?”

“Well… it’s your name. It’s rather unique. Where did you get it from?”

“It’s Nigerian – it’s short for Emamoke.”

I groaned.

He looked concerned and touched my arm. “Are you okay?”

I smiled wearily. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just that that name brings back awful memories. I’m glad I don’t have to call you by it. ”

His interest was piqued. “Aww, but how could my full name bring back such awful memories? I don’t get that.”

I shrugged my shoulders dismissively. “Just this idiot I met summer of ’87 on holiday visiting my grandma in Nigeria. I mean --”

“I didn’t know you were from Africa,” he interjected.

“Well, my parents are.” He kept staring. “Anyway, this boy called Emamoke Umukoro –I shall never forget that name – tormented my life the whole stay. He called me names, chased after me, threw things and just made my stay rather memorable –and not in a good way.”

I couldn’t understand what happened but suddenly he could barely keep himself from laughing.

“Go on,” he implored.

I giggled nervously. “That’s pretty much it. I swore that if I every saw him again I would punch his lights out -stupid ninny.”

He leaned toward me then put his hands behind his back. “Alright then, take your best shot.”

Confused and suspicious I asked, “Excuse me?”

He laughed and stretched out his hand. “I think I need to re-introduce myself to you.” With an exaggerated bow he said, “I am your tormentor –Mr. Emamoke Umukoro.”

I was really confused. “No... no...” I couldn’t believe it. “It can’t be.”

He kept nodding his head. “I’m afraid it is.”

“But… but… but your name....”

“Yeah... my Father changed it in ’88, after we moved to the States,” he said with dancing eyes.

With a frown I stared at him for about a minute. As if on cue, we both burst into a fit of hysterics.