Against my better judgment, I listened to my friends’ advice about lowering my standards. I promised them (and myself) to look at the next suitor with an open mind. But when Patrick asked me out on a date and then didn’t arrive at 8pm as agreed, it was very testing. If ever I hated a habit, it was, is tardiness. I hate it when people act like meeting them is the only thing you have on your schedule and so they can show up any time they please. I especially hate waiting for people in a restaurant. Each time I do, a waiter comes up to me and asks what I would like to eat/drink. I tell that waiter, just like I have told the other five waiters that came to me at an interval of two minutes each that I’m waiting for someone. Eventually, the empty table before me makes me feel that people think that I am too poor to order for something. I have to prove those haters wrong. So I order for a drink, being very careful not to dig a hole in my pocket. In the meantime, I try to keep myself busy by checking my messages. But I don’t have any messages. Not even from the family WhatsApp group where people take it upon themselves to post recycled jokes throughout the day. The WhatsApp group was created by my cousin. It was her subtle way of letting everyone know that she now has a smart phone. I would like to leave the group but I don’t know how to do it without risking awkwardness at family gatherings. I was still thinking about all this when Patrick finally showed up. I waited for him to tell me that he was late because of an emergency that involved saving a baby from a fire or something. But he opened his mouth and smugly said, “Sorry, I lost track of time.” And then he smiled. He smiled! He showed up an hour late for no reason and he smiled about it. Because I had pledged to be open-minded person, I kept trying to force myself to think; “At least he showed up.” But I couldn’t get that thought to stick. My mind was busy drowning in a sea of thoughts about bad words and violent actions towards this smug male seated opposite me. There he was just seated back, expecting me to laugh with him at his unoriginal joke about Africans and poor time management. He opened his mouth wide and I mentally showed my bottle of soda down his throat. I couldn’t stand him. A thought crossed my mind; that my rage was testament to the fact that my friends are right. I need to loosen the reins a bit. Still, I knew that there was need to draw a line between lowering my standards and having none at all. Lowering my standards was excusing Patrick’s lateness. Having no standards would have been excusing the smugness with which he treated his lateness. With that, I picked up my bag and walked out.
