My Ex Almost Broke Me

I have a date...

Nande's POV

Three months later

I feel like pulling my hair out. I am so frustrated. I can’t find the right outfit. I haven’t been on a date for years. I even searched for outfits, topics and what guys expect, especially on a first date on Google. It kind of helped, but I am still frustrated and I don’t even know what to wear. I don’t look good in anything. I haven’t felt like I looked good in years. That relationship really did a number on me. And the crazy part is that I thought I was happy. No, actually I was happy. The craziest part is that I miss Lucky. I miss standing in the kitchen cooking for him. I miss watching him watch soccer, but only when his team wins the match. If they lost, he took out the stress on me. And to make him forget, I gave him my bank card so he could go out and have drinks with his friends so he could forget for a while.

My mom walked in with a tray of juice while I threw the red dress across the room. “You still haven’t decided?” she asked, handing me a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. I take a sip as I look around the room. I made a mess.

“I can’t decide. I haven’t been on a date in years,” I confessed. And now that I am telling my mom about it I am embarrassed.

My mom doesn’t seem shocked to hear this. She had never expected anything good from Lucky. And according to her, I stayed longer than they thought. She raised an eyebrow before she sipped her apple juice. “You really went all out for a guy who couldn’t even take you out for a fish and chips?” I am so embarrassed by that. Instead of answering her, I just started picking my clothes from the floor.

She could see I didn’t want to talk about this, so she changed the topic back to the date. “Just wear a dress with a pair of sandals,” advised my mom as she sat on one of the two chairs. I still can’t get over this house. It’s so beautiful. It was what my mom wanted and more. I put the pile of clothes on the bed. I wish my siblings could help. They helped me in the past, before they found out Lucky’s real age. I lied and said he was 2 years older, when he was over a decade older than me. To say they were livid would be an understatement of the century. It really shouldn’t be this hard to choose an outfit, right? So what is wrong with me? I’ve been rummaging through my wardrobe for over an hour. I want to look like I got this life thing together. I want to look like being on a date is my thing. I don’t know why I feel the need to impress Bukhosi. He seemed like a chilled guy. He’s handsome too. That’s probably the main reason I asked him to take me out on a date. He was shocked at first and once he got over the shock, he agreed to go out on a date with me. I couldn’t believe it. I thought he’d think I was going forward. And now I’m nervous as if this whole thing wasn’t my idea.

“Nande, choose an outfit already,” shouted my mom. “Although they always say it’s rude to keep a lady waiting. Keeping a guy waiting or anyone for that matter is rude,” said my mom, sounding like the school principal that she is. I could only nod as I put the glass on one of the bedside tables and I walked back to the open and messy wardrobe. I choose a yellow summer dress and a pair of white sandals. It looks too simple, but I don’t want to keep changing. I quickly changed. I still have ten more minutes before I leave the house. My mother and I walked out of the room. It looked like she wanted to say something but she stopped herself. I know she’s worried about the mess and I bet when I get home later everything will be folded and neatly packed in the wardrobe. I need to have a light meal before I leave the house, just in case I don’t like the meal or they plate small portions. I chose a restaurant. One of the social media influencers I follow on i********: frequently. I hope I like the food and, most importantly, I hope the food is affordable. I am running low on cash and I don’t want to dip into my taxi fare budget. I don’t like asking for money or bothering people. My dad whistles when I walk into the kitchen. The house is an open plan. My siblings both turn to look behind them and they both roll their eyes when they see me and they go back to watching TV. They are still mad at me. My parents forgave me a long time ago. I have been trying to get them to talk to me. But they won’t. I’ll keep trying. It’s not nice living in the same house with a person who won’t talk to you. It’s even worse now that there are two people. But I can’t blame any one else. I made the bed I should lay in it. It’s not nice, but it was my actions and words that got me here. I hope my next actions and words will get me out of this situation, I thought to myself as I quickly ate a 2 slice chicken mayo sandwich I made earlier. I wash it down with juice before I request a ride.

“Your daughter is moving fast,” commented my brother as I walked towards the door after saying goodbye to everyone. My parents ignore him. “Enjoy,” they shout in unison.

“Will do,” I shouted back as I softly closed the door behind me. Just then my phone pings, my ride is here. I hope the driver isn’t chatty. I’m too nervous to hold a conversation. I hope Bukhosi doesn’t keep me waiting. More than anything, I hope he won’t stand me up.