You’re at a party. Two hours in and you finally smell puff puff. Hope rises. Thirty minutes of eye service later the small chops arrive. Cold. Sad. But fine at least the party has started.
You’re already irritated. Your makeup is melting. Your frontal is leaving the group chat. Your fila is tightening like it has a personal issue with you. The white senator is no longer white. Your gele is actively working against your peace.
Four hours now. Still no celebrant. You’ve eaten jollof rice that tasted much better in your imagination. You no longer feel cute. Thank God you took pictures early when joy was still present.
Suddenly the music gets louder. Of course. The celebrant has arrived dancing in with people like nothing happened. Like you did not come at 1:30pm and wait till 5pm.
It’s fine you tell yourself on the drive home three hours later. Some people got there before you. To some people you are just as late as them. And you know that you would do the same thing, in fact you did because the party was to start by 11am
