Journey to 'I do'

17- Oil Wars

Following my conversation with Muhammad approximately two months ago, where we bantered about women's desires for money and roses, a peculiar routine had unfolded. Muhammad took it upon himself to regularly send me flowers. It all began with a bouquet of vibrant red roses artistically wrapped with actual dollars. A stunning mix of romance and opulence.

As I delicately unwrapped the bouquet, I discovered not just the 20 resplendent roses but also a substantial sum of $2,000. Instinctively, I decided to detach the money from the roses, placed it in an envelope, and handed it back to him the next time we crossed paths. My family's values and morals dictated that we only accepted cash gifts from family, and this gesture didn't align with that principle. Despite the initial surprise and humor, I began to question the appropriateness of accepting such extravagant gifts, especially from a man. It felt uncomfortable, My father was already providing for me, and I didn't want to compromise my values for material gifts that came with an underlying unease. Men are not to be trusted they can throw it in your face.

His consistent delivery of roses to my home raised eyebrows in my family, especially from my parents. They started making jokes about a secret admirer or a suitor in the shadows. Daddy had even said, "you're too old to be hiding. If he's serious about you he should come and ask for your hand in marriage."

On the other hand, Usman had been diving headfirst into the world of extravagant gifts and lavish outings. His generosity was undeniable, and I couldn't ignore the string of gifts that kept flowing my way. Yet, despite the tokens of appreciation, his lifestyle choices started to paint a picture I wasn't sure I could envision as my future.

Usman, the quintessential Abuja big boy, seemed to have a penchant for the glamorous side of life. Regular shisha sessions, frequent visits to New Yorker or Palm Ave, and occasional nights out clubbing – it all felt like a scene from a lifestyle I wasn't sure I wanted to embrace. The constant presence of different girls in his company added another layer of discomfort. It became evident that his lifestyle was a stark contrast to what I had envisioned in a life partner, raising internal conflicts about my feelings of gratitude for the favors he had done for me and the discomfort his choices brought. He also seemed too lax, a real trust fund baby not prioritizing his work.

Yet, beneath the pile of extravagant gifts and the allure of his lifestyle, I couldn't shake off the feeling of indebtedness. Usman had played a pivotal role in securing contract jobs, and the gifts kept coming. The conflict within me grew – appreciating his gestures while grappling with the growing realization that our worlds might be too different to align seamlessly.

In moments of reflection, I questioned whether I owed him more than just polite niceties. Was my gratitude blurring the lines of genuine connection? It all tugged at the strings of a relationship I was unsure how to define.

The days passed in a haze of uncertainty, leaving me to wonder if I could gracefully untangle the threads of obligation and embrace the authenticity I sought.

The morning sun cast a warm glow as I stepped out of my gate, carrying a small bag with essential oils for stress. Muhammad was supposed to swing by to pick them up, and the calming fragrance filled the air. He was always complaining about being tired so I insisted he get some of these and massage near his head and neck for some relief. My footsteps halted as I stepped foot outside my gate about to walk to Muhammad's car, noticing Usman's sleek car pulling up alongside the curb. In a peculiar synchrony, both men rolled down their windows, and then Usman went to park and they both stepped out of their cars. This was creating an unexpected confrontation right in front of my house.

They exchanged awkward pleasantries and then Usman, with a challenging glare, asked Muhammad, "So, what're you doing here?"

Muhammad, ever calm responded, "Just collecting something. Not that it concerns you."