I lost the love of my life on a Sunday, a wintry August Sunday which somehow seemed fitting for such an occurrence. Of course I am being dramatic, as I am often wont to do. That man was not, and was never going to be the love of my life, if only because the true love of my life is the Unidentified African National. But that one was stuck in a city where the covid-19 cases kept on rising and he wasn’t available on the phone so thinking he was lost to me, I dared to venture into the Maseru dating scene. Big mistake! But first a little backstory
I approach dating like investing, I like to diversify my portfolio across a number of factors but we were in a lockdown so I was only able to come up with three potential candidates to fill the hole in my heart that had been left by the #UAN and perhaps with a bit of luck, some other cavities as well, I figured out of three, one has to be a winner. I must admit I was quite pleased with my selection. Allow me to introduce you to the nominees
The East African Man of Means!
Well, shall I say bachelor number one was on paper, the perfect fit for me? He was as tall as he was dark, A Harvard man who I met while having wine with a friend. A better woman would not admit to being impressed by his Patek Philippe timepiece but I have never been a good woman. His method of wooing me? Having the waiter bring us a bottle of what we were drinking and telling us that we could order whatever we desired on him. Colour me impressed. A few minutes later he made his introductions and a date was set for the very following weekend. I was already picking out my Vera Wang wedding gown.
The boy with the alabaster skin.
I met bachelor number 2 through a mutual friend. The youngest of the pack, he did come highly recommended and what he lacked in quality wrist wear he more than made up for in being a great conversationalist and genuinely interesting. I found myself, despite putting my Vera Wang at stake, liking him more than the others. The plan had been to let their behavior weed them out but from the first I was rooting for this one. He came to our first meeting armed with a PS Bar and I know it’s not the most expensive gift in the book but I thought it was sweet and quirky and I loved it and swore not to eat it. I planned to show it to our kids when they asked how we met ( I am hopelessly and foolishly romantic)
This one I met while talking to a friend at the mall, he came over to say Hi to his friend and I did not take much notice of him but a couple of days later his friend was all up in my face about him. Apparently he was a Dr of some sort of chemistry, old enough to be ready to settle down without being too old as to be boring and as his friend put it, I too was not getting any younger and would benefit from dating what he called a “Husband material” so I gave the go ahead for my number to be given to him. I figured at the very least he would give me smart kids and he was not at all bad looking.
Anyway armed with the unholy trinity, I prepared to sit back and let the wooing games begin. My friends of course were picking favorites but I wanted to stay as neutral as possible and let their actions speak for themselves, ohh what a fool I was!
HOW WE GOT HERE
You may be asking yourself, as I am . How did a young woman, blessed with beauty and wit such as myself get here!
Pre-lockdown I had it all. A tall, dark African man with a French accent, a little less tall other man who was younger and agile, a baecation already planned out with the French speaking love of my life. I was riding high. And then the lockdown came. The speaker of French has always been referred to by my nearest and dearest as the Unidentified African National. I could of course refer to him by his real name but I thought it afforded him an air of mystery and as previously mentioned I do tend to be dramatic. I met the UAN in 2018, the 21st of December 2018. I remember it like it was yesterday. I was waiting for my flight to Johannesburg, having just gotten off another one from Walvis bay from a girlcation with my best friend for my 28th birthday. It had been a wild week that culminated with us leaving our bras at a local bar in lieu of settling our bill. My afro was all shambles and I was not wearing a bra, letting my titties roam free. I looked a little the worse for wear and all I wanted was to get to Joburg, shower, sleep and get home the next day. Meeting a man could not have been farther from my mind. My friend had smartly taken a direct flight to Joburg but I had foolishly scheduled a meeting in Windhoek with an old friend who cancelled on me.
So there I was, with a four hour layover in Hosea Kutako International, tired, hung-over, and quite frankly regretting some of the decisions I made that weekend. Dragged my weary self into a restaurant to read a book while I waited and there he was! The tallest, handsomest, darkest man I had ever seen. I had never wished for a bra that much in my life but sadly my luggage had already been checked in and all I had was my handbag.So, I’m sitting right across this Nubian God and hoping he will make contact but deep down I know I am not looking my best so I decided to go past him to the bathroom, hoping he would notice me. First shashay over. Man does not even glance up from his newspaper. I waltzed back from the bathroom, where I had attempted to at least apply lipstick and not a word. I sat down, in my head I’m thinking this is an international airport. His flight might be called at any moment and he would be gone, and just like that I would lose my chance at everlasting love. So I decided to make my move, carpe diem or in my case carpe the bae. In my sexiest voice “ Hi, I’m Thakane, I couldn’t help but notice you are very tall, do you have a girlfriend and would you like to take me out next time you are in Lesotho or I’m here, assuming you are from here , if not the next time I am wherever you come from”
I could bore you with the rest of that conversation but it is enough to tell you that I have a 100% macking rate and by the end of that conversation, he had promised to take me out next time he was in Johannesburg, he had never been to Lesotho and I had already named our first kid, Genevieve. Oh, In case you were wondering, my future husband was going to Germany for Christmas cause –White Christmas, hello. Anyway, what ensued was a passionate love affair that spanned three countries, an attempt to abandon the graves of my forefathers and for the first time in my life I fancied myself well and truly in love. We did have our problems but I mean, what young, attractive, successful couple doesn’t? And then the lockdowns happened.