Waiting for Godot

I said, “See you next week,” and somehow, next week turned into a few months.

Classic me.

How are y’all doing?

I missed you guys a lot.

So, let me catch you up a bit with texts, mails and stories.

Valentine’s Day came and I woke up in a man’s arms.

Not just any man—my boyfriend.

Shocking, I know. After years of Nigerian men and their wahala, I finally found mine. A miracle. Somebody call CNN.

I remember the first time I saw you. You invited me to a wedding, and as I stood outside the reception, waiting, I kept wondering what you’d look like in person. You said you were 6’2, but I’ve been lied to before. Too many times. Nigerian men will say they’re 6ft, and yet somehow, Ndebo—who is 5’10 on a good day—will still be looking down at them.

But then I saw you. And I just knew. In that moment, if you had asked me to follow you anywhere, I would have. All you had to do was just ask.

Which is insane. Because it’s me. It’s me, Victoria. Since when do I do mushy? What is this feeling? Stupid teenage crush.

When I told my friends and sisters that I had a boyfriend, they kept asking if it was a prank. It’s been four years since the last one, and let’s just say… Ifunanya and Chioma had given up hope and accepted my fate.

But this time, it’s different. It’s not about the height (although, let’s be honest, my beef with short Nigerian men is well-documented). It’s just… different. And I’m surprised by how much.

And when people ask, “But what if you guys don’t end up together?”

“What of the long days ahead?”

“What about the miles between you?”

I just smile and say, “I know he’ll never hurt me. And right now, I’m happy to live a day at a time with him. That’s enough for me.”

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Here are some songs we love together, Jon Bellion and Jason Mraz leading the way…