Amelia's Dates

The night air outside carried a soft chill, but inside the modest apartment in Lekki, Lagos, the atmosphere was heated with Amelia’s rising frustration. She slammed the door behind her and kicked off her heels with the kind of fury that had been building for weeks.

“Why is it always like this with these men?!” Amelia roared, tossing her small purse onto the sofa like it had personally offended her. “Is it not possible to find what I want in this Lagos?”

Her outburst drew the attention of Folashade and Emeka, who sat together in the living room, half-watching a reality show and half-waiting for her return. Shade sat cross-legged on the rug, scrolling through her phone, while Emeka sprawled comfortably on the couch, one hand holding a can of malt, the other lazily flipping channels.

Shade glanced up first, her brows arching in mock concern.

“What has happened this time again? Ah-ah, under this cold, you’re already carrying a long face. How now?”

Emeka leaned forward, amusement glinting in his eyes. “How was the date with Chris?” he asked.

Amelia exhaled sharply, flinging herself onto the armchair like a woman who had just returned from war.

“I expected to have a conversation with Chris—not to be interrogated like a writhing insect under a microscope. All he did was sit there and ask me: ‘What’s your body count? Which of your exes are you still hung up on? What’s your dream family like? What’s your best food and color?’ Abeg, aren’t men tired of asking women these boring questions?”

Shade burst into loud laughter, the kind that bubbled from her belly and filled the room. Emeka chuckled too, though he tried to keep the situation light.

“He didn’t let you speak? That sounds like a married man to me, looking for Lagos girls to explore,” Emeka added, shaking his head. “That’s Lagos men for you.”

Amelia groaned. “His questions came relentlessly, each one pinning me further in place while my discomfort magnified with every second.”

“So aside from his name, what else do you even know about Chris?” Shade asked teasingly.

“Well, at least his skin screamed money. Rich in caramel and the kind that melts in the sun. And he was exactly my type—on the outside oh! She sighed dramatically. “But the conversation with him felt stiff, like chewing dry maize. Honestly, all my heart longed for was to be home. Amelia replied in a louder tone. See, abeg, I dey hungry. Shade, wetin you cook?”

“Ah!” Shade gasped. “Look who just returned from a dinner date! Didn’t he feed you there? My sister, we have finished the last food in the pot. We didn’t think you’d still be hungry.”

“I don’t blame the two of you at all. Nah this Chris guy I blame,” Amelia muttered, shaking her head. “If not for this rubbish date, both of you should’ve been crawling to me for food.”

Her last line sent Shade and Emeka into another fit of laughter, their voices bouncing off the walls. But Amelia was too exhausted to join. She stood and headed toward her room, heels dangling from her fingers, muttering under her breath.

Emeka glanced at the clock and noticed it was past 9 p.m.

“Time don go,” he said, rising with a stretch. “Fo, I think it’s time I call it a night. Tell that woman good night for me.”

Folashade, ever the gracious one, stood as well. “Let me walk you to the door,” she said, following him out. The quiet hum of distant traffic filled the air as they stepped into the corridor.

“Forget that woman,” Shade said, waving her hand dismissively. “You and I both know how she can be. When she’s had a bad day, we must all suffer for it too.”

Emeka laughed, his voice laced with his thick Eastern pidgin. “I don dey used to her nah. At least I had a good laugh tonight and some good food—all thanks to you.”

He waved and drove off, leaving Shade to lock the door and head back in, humming faintly to herself.

Amelia Abidemi Benson is a woman whose presence could not be ignored. She is the managing director of Newton Financing Cooperative, a thriving fintech company nestled in the heart of Ikeja. Her skin, the color of freshly harvested cocoa, glowed with health and wealth. Her figure was full and womanly, her every step measured with quiet grace. Her cheekbones stood sharp, her lips full, her eyes bright with intelligence—the kind that made men stare twice and women take mental notes. She had built her life from the ground up. While others partied through their twenties, Amelia buried herself in work, rising through the ranks with grit and brilliance.

Now, her weekends were filled with matchmaking setups and blind dates arranged by Folashade or her mother. Her mates had all moved on—married, with children or long-term partners—while she remained the lone success story without a “Mr. Somebody.” And Lagos had a way of reminding her. Every wedding invitation, every auntie’s pointed question, every matchmaking attempt from her mother added a quiet weight on her shoulders.

Folashade had been her friend since their University of Lagos days. Where Amelia was calm and calculated, Shade was playful, warm, and loud when she wanted to be. She was an HR officer in a PR company—meticulous, compassionate, and quietly beautiful. Emeka, on the other hand, had been Amelia’s closest male friend for years. A tall, fair-skinned man in his mid-thirties, he worked as a Project Supervisor for Smart Technologies. It was through him that Newton Financing landed its most profitable partnership. He was the steady friend—the one who always had her back, cracking jokes, giving advice, sometimes being annoyingly right.

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The sun had barely crept through the curtains when Amelia’s phone began to ring loudly. Her mother’s name flashed on the screen: Iya Benson.

Amelia groaned. “Oh God, not this early.” She checked the time—6:35 a.m.

“Why have I not been able to reach you all this time, eh, Amelia Abidemi Benson?” Her mother’s booming voice shot through the speaker like a trumpet.

“Mummy, good morning,” Amelia said warily, sitting up.

“Good morning, yes. By the way, how did it go? Was Chris nice? Do you think he’ll come again? Was he impressed?”

“Mummy…” Amelia’s voice cracked in disbelief. “It’s barely 6:30. You’re calling me to ask about Chris?”

“Eh-hen? So I cannot call my own daughter in the morning to ask her questions?” her mother countered sharply. “By now, if you were married, I’d be checking on my son-in-law and grandchildren, not chasing you over one small date!”

Amelia held the phone tight to her ear, her mother’s voice slicing through her sleep. “Mummy, at least wait for me to wake up later. I have a client's meeting at 11 a.m. I wanted to sleep well so I wouldn’t have eye bags—but here we are.”

“Ah! Eye bags?” Mrs. Benson mocked. “So your face is now more important than answering your mother’s call? You children nowadays. If I had behaved like this, would you even be alive to have eye bags?”

Amelia bit her lip, inhaling slowly to keep her composure. This was the usual dance—her mother scolding, her trying not to explode.

“Mummy, please. I’ve heard you. Can we talk later? I really need to rest.”

“Later, eh? That’s the problem with you children—always postponing things that matter. Fine, go and sleep. But don’t forget, time waits for no one oh, Amelia!”

The line went dead before Amelia could reply. She threw the phone on the bed with a groan.

Beside her, Shade stirred, her hair in disarray. “Ah! Mummy no go allow you rest oh,” she teased groggily. “Even I was dreaming that somebody was shouting in my ear.”

Amelia shot her a playful glare. “Abeg, no start.”

Shade yawned. “I should call Mummy back and tell her what happened. Maybe she’ll call you again.”

Amelia flung a pillow at her. “Oya, stand up jare, help me pick an outfit for my meeting. Sleep don commot from my eyes already.”

The two friends burst into laughter as sunlight filled the room. It was a new day, and though Amelia carried the quiet ache of last night’s disappointment, she also carried the strength of two friends who made even the sharpest moments bearable.