Dem Don Set Me Up

A funny story about matchmaking, workplace banter, singleness, and meeting someone unexpectedly interesting.

There’s something about an evening jog that does something to you. It unburdens you if you have a stressful day. It gives a sense of control if your day has been chaotic.

This is how I feel as I jog along a road that runs along a lake for miles. As the sun reflects on the water, giving it a beautiful silvery shine as it sets, I also reflect on my day.

My mind goes to a short conversation I had with Rachel, a close friend from my NYSC days, whom I ran into in a cab on the way to work.

In catching up, I ask about her husband, and she replies that he is fine. Then she asks after my relationship status, to which I say I am single, like all the letters in single. We laugh about it, and then she asks why, and I say I haven’t found the right person yet.

“Are you searching, though?” she asks, to which I say, "I am actually," I say. "I do enter talking stages once in a blue moon." Rachel laughs about this, and while telling me she understands, she prays that God will help me.

I ask after another of our mutual friends, Ayomikun, with whom she works, and she tells me she is fine. She then asks me if I would be around tomorrow at an annual work event, so that the three of us can meet there, as their supervisor has made it necessary for them to be there. We part ways, agreeing to meet there.

Thinking about this, I am also wondering why she still asked me whether I was searching for someone even though I told her I am single, because I haven’t found the right person. I mean that already meant I was searching, so why did she ask? Was it because they were people who said they hadn’t found the right person but never took the time to search?

Did I give off the vibe of people who said they hadn’t met Mr or Ms Right but hadn’t met people at all, not to mention Mr Wrong? If I did, what were the tells?

And I noticed she had this look on her face when I said I was searching. Even more so when she said God will help me, she had this intercessory look on her face.

Now, as I think on this conversation with Rachel and coupled with the fact that I would be meeting her and another friend tomorrow at a work event, my brain did what it always does: It starts creating stories when it has enough time and questions. Stories with characters, dialogues, and twists I didn’t envision.

So this is your warning and your invitation:
What you are about to read did not happen.

But in my head, it felt real enough to write down, and honestly, too good to keep in my head.

And here’s where it begins.

---

It’s the yearly Sports Fest in my place of work, and today is the opening ceremony.

This year, I am arriving late because of work, but as I enter the sports centre, I am greeted not only by the greenery of our sports field but also by the energy that has always been the attraction of this ceremony.

People in their different-coloured jerseys are scattered across the field, dancing, laughing, buzzing with anticipation for the opening football match.
Even if a supervisor forced you to be there, the energy is the kind that makes you let it go and just enjoy the moment.

At the edge of the field, not too far from the entrance, I spot exactly who I came to find: Ayomikun and Rachel, friends since my NYSC days.

As I move closer to them, Ayomikun looks up and shouts ‘Sudanese!’ waving her hands. I could see people around her looking at me and wondering why she called me that, and so I fire back, ‘East African,’ and she laughs loudly. This has been Ayomikun’s and my form of banter since our service days, and whenever we start, Rachel just smiles and shakes her head at both of us like she does today.

Without further ado, we fall into conversation easily, the way you do with people who knew you before you had a job title.

Reminiscing about our NYSC year and the colleagues who used to disappear when field work was in view. We also spoke about what was going on in our respective offices. It was the kind of gist that makes thirty minutes feel like five, and also captured the community spirit of the SportsFest.

Then, mid-conversation, I notice Ayomikun’s eyes shift to someone behind me, and her face lights up. I turn around, wondering “What is this girl smiling at?” and that is when I see her.

A lady with a wonderful face card, a most magnificent smile carved across her dimpled face as she comes towards us, and a lovely diastema to balance it all out. ‘Rachel! Ayomikun! How are you both doing?’ she says, pulling them both into a hug. Ayomikun, hugging her tighter, says, “Baby girl, I have missed you”.

The three of them fall into that immediate girl energy of complimenting each other’s outfits and catching up like they haven’t seen each other in weeks.

I, on the other hand, suddenly become very interested in what is happening on the far end of the football field. I mean, I am interested in who this beautiful lady is, but there are important Sports Fest activities that require my full attention.

Rachel, not fooled at all, turns to me and says ‘Temi, meet Joy. Joy, meet Temi.”

Oh boy. Her name is Joy. Her name is Joy????.

You see, I have met many Joys from my time in secondary school to University to NYSC, and they are never easygoing. There’s always a perk to them that is quite problematic, and they don’t give joy (pun intended).
(My most sincere apologies if you are named Joy, but I get anxious whenever your name is mentioned, or I meet your namesake. People will mention Cynthia, but you see Joy, run!!!.)

But I am in a situation where I can’t run, so I summon the courage to stretch my hand out for a handshake and ask, “Hello Joy, how are you doing?”

“I am fine, thank you,” her hand meeting mine.

“I know the ladies already complimented your outfit, but I have to say it’s nice.”

And she replies, “Thank you, Temi”.

“You are welcome.”

“So you were listening to us but also watching the Sports Fest the whole time?” Joy asks, her smile turning mischievous.

"Well, I didn't want to seem like I was being a busybody and insert myself into your conversation. And I also didn't want to come off as a snub or inattentive," I say, laughing slightly.

"So you were listening but pretending not to," Joy replies.

‘‘Well, I wouldn’t say pretending. I just didn’t make it obvious I was listening to you guys.”

“Hmmm, is that so?” Rachel chimes in.

“Yes na. You see, I am good at minding my business, but sometimes other people’s business can creep into my ear. Nothing I can do about it.” I reply.

Ayomikun, at this point, shouts, “Men!!! They will never agree.” To which the two ladies agree.

Na una sabi, I reply.

At that point, a goal is scored in the football match that is going on, and the noise of celebration is enough to draw our attention to it. Teammates are crowding the goalscorer, who seems to be a supervisor in one of the units. Ayomikun and Rachel seem to know him, and so they get into talking about him.

Above the noise, Joy turns to me ‘So I have never seen you before. Are you new here?’

“No. Been here for quite a while. I just rarely come out. I just came out today to play with you, lowly humans.”

I think Ayomikun heard that and asked, “So we are the lowly humans?’

“Yes na. I am just gracing you with my presence. Who knows when next you will see me again?”

Joy clearly amused asks, ‘As per se, you be what?’

“A higher being.”

Not minding me, Joy asks Rachel, “Is he new? Did he just start working here?”

Rachel replies, “No, oh. He’s been here as long as us.”

“Really, how come I have never seen him?”

“He is in the Communications Unit.” Ayomikun adds, “You know, the Outskirt people” (this was a company joke used for my unit because of how far we were from the other units).

“Wow, na una dey run things for this compound,” Joy remarks. I shake my head and then act like an African mother disappointed in her child and ask, “Joy. I just met you, and you are already whining me. Really?”

Nothing prepared me for her reply, “So, how many business days do you take before you start whining someone?” (Nah, this was a good comeback. I like this brand of sarcasm.)

Moving on, she asks, “So, what do you do at Comms?”

“I work as a designer,” I reply, keeping it vague.

“Oh, nice!” she says, genuinely seeming intrigued. “So you are the one who designs the banners and all that we see”.

“Ah. No oh. Not all of them, oh. We divide the work. I mostly do the ones focused on the youth group.”

”Nice. But you are a higher being na. You should be able to do all of it.”

“Even so, but God rests. So, I too have to rest. Abi, you want me to be doing pass God.”

She looks at me with suspicion while smiling and says, “You sha don’t want to be caught in this conversation.”
Yes oh. Never to be caught unguarded.

Relaxing her eyes, she asks, “So, do you like it? Your job, I mean. Do you like designing?”

Okay, maybe this Joy is different. She’s actually engaging in conversation and being thoughtful about it. I’m starting to feel cautiously optimistic.

Rachel and Ayomikun had drifted back into their own conversation about the colleague who scored the goal, leaving Joy and me to ours.

“It has its moments,” I say, “but it’s rewarding.”

“Okay, in what way?” Joy asks, leaning in slightly.

“Well, it is rewarding when I see that the work I am doing actually makes an impact. You know when a brochure or a campaign material that’s meant to do something actually does it. When it is meant to change a mindset, educate someone, or even inform. When it does that, it makes me proud of my work. It makes me glad I do this.”

Her eyes are still focused on me as if she is expecting a “but” after my statement.

“But on some days, it can be frustrating, especially when the demands from the Ogas at the top aren’t realistic or when they put their personal preference into what is being created. Like when they turn a design down due to a colour they don’t like because of their bias.“

“Oh, that happens to you, too,” she retorts.

She goes on to tell me about how that happens to her in her unit.

“Data is data,” she says, shaking her head. “It doesn’t care about your feelings. If it can come out using AI tools, why stress yourself? Why should I still stick with the conventional ways when we can do it faster and easier?”

“I get you. Maybe they are avoiding AI because of the fear that it can take their job,” I reply.

“Well, with the way they are doing, the fear is sure to come to pass,” Joy remarks.

Now, this statement got me more interested in talking with Joy. I had this belief, and she was literally the 3rd or 4th person at my place of work who agreed with me.

“You really think that will happen?” I ask, wanting to know the reasoning behind her statement. “Most people think that with the subpar work AI is producing design-wise, and the numerous issues that occur with coding, it is impossible to remove the human element.”

“Well, it is impossible to remove the human element,” Joy says, “but Temi, AI is only going to get better. The worst it will do is what it is doing now. So if you don’t place yourself in a position where you are a master at it or useful with it, you will be left behind.”

“There’s a point to that, but most people just say this, Joy,” I push back. “How can it be done practically? You are a data analyst. How would you place yourself in a position where you are useful with it?”

“For me, it is by using it to create more time and space to learn other aspects of my role that will make me multiskilled,” she explains. “If I can use AI to analyse something quickly and then use the remaining time to learn how to visualize, I become multiskilled.”

“True,” I say, nodding. “You become like an agency capable of doing so many things perfectly. That gives you an edge.”

“Exactly!” Joy says. “I can also learn and master spaces where AI isn’t fully trusted, like Project Writing and Project Management. So yes, AI would take people’s jobs, but I just have to make sure it won’t take mine.”

I am not going to lie. I find Joy really, really interesting. We talked for a while more about work, then the Sports Fest. I make efforts to learn more about her, and I learned she watches anime and is into poetry, which I find cool.

Over the course of our conversation, I came to see Joy as very witty, warm, intelligent, and surprisingly down-to-earth. She made me laugh with some remarks and had me blown away with her takes on some subjects.

Then, of course, it happens. Rachel, bless her heart, can’t resist.

“So, Joy,” she says, with a mischievous glint in her eye, “Temi here is single and ready to mingle.”

I shoot Rachel the “wetin dey work you” look. Why is she casting me in public? And then it hits me. Her question from the day before: Are you making efforts to change your status?

Oh chim. I have gone and given the right answer to the wrong person.

Now it is too late. The cat is out of the bag.

Joy turns to me, her smile softening. “Oh, really?” she says, her eyes twinkling. “And what are you looking for in a relationship, Temi?”

Omo. Here we go. Dem don catch me.

Do I tell her the truth or wave her off with the fact that I’m terrified of Joys because of experience? Do I lie and say I’m looking for someone “easy-going and drama-free” (the irony!)? Or do I try to deflect with a joke?

“Well, I am actually a wicked person,” I say. “So I am looking for people who can handle my wickedness, but they are rare.”

Joy smiles and plays along. “So you are wicked.”

“Yes. I am very wicked.”

“So what’s the most wicked thing you’ve done?” she asks.

“Ah. A lot oh. It’s plenty,” I say, trying to think of what to actually say because I genuinely do not know what wicked people say in this situation.

Rachel chimes in before I can dig myself deeper. “Don’t mind Temi, oh. He’s just acting like he’s wicked, but he’s actually nice. He’s a good person.”

I was about to hit them with the “Why callest thou me good? there is none good but one, that is, God” when Joy nods and says, “I know their type. The ones that act like they are wicked so they won’t be seen as soft.”

“Yes, oh,” Rachel agrees. “He was the one who helped me settle in here when I came as a Corper. He helped basically everyone acclimate in the unit. So don’t mind him and his hard guy persona.”

Me? Hard guy persona. Dem reduce my aura to persona.

Ayomikun cuts in. “Guy, be serious jare. Even I want to know what kind of lady you like”.

I take a deep breath and prepare for the fallout. “Well,” I say, “let’s just say that I tend to avoid ladies named Joy.”

I brace myself for offense, disappointment, or maybe even a well-deserved push on the shoulder. But instead, Joy is laughing. She is laughing.

“You’re not serious!” she says, covering her mouth (She’s really pretty when she smiles). “That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard!. What did we do to you?”

“A lot oh. Like a lot. But let’s just say they don’t usually give joy.”

“Really?” She asks. “Yes,” I reply.

“So, since I have been talking with you, is it sorrow you have been feeling?” She asks, arms akimbo, to which I reply, “Ehn, but we’ve just met. Who knows whether my wickedness go dey learn work for your hand.”

She giggles again for a good minute, and then she looks at me with amusement. “Well, Temi,” she says, “it looks like I’m going to have to work extra hard to prove you wrong.”

Wait! Hold up!!! Prove who wrong? What’s going on here?

Before I can think of anything, Joy turns to Rachel and Ayomikun. “I have to get back to the office. I have some stuff I want to complete before Monday. See you later, guys.”

She then turns to me, “I look forward to seeing you again. It was nice meeting you, Temi.”

“As do I, Joy. It was a pleasure meeting you, too,” I reply, with a smile that’s still making me question whether this Joy could actually be better.

As we watch Joy leave, Ayomikun turns to me, “So, are you enjoying the Sports Fest? because usually by now, you would have gone back to work.”

“Yeah, it’s alright,” I say. “I have sorted out my deliverables. And it’s also good to see everyone having fun.”

“Which deliverables? Abi, you were enjoying talk with a woman,” Rachel says with a knowing look. On God, this woman is the weapon fashioned against me today.

“Must you talk?” I ask Rachel.

“Abeg, abeg,” she says, waving me off.

A few seconds of silence pass. Then Rachel turns to me with a smile she is clearly trying to hide. “But seriously, did you enjoy your talk with Joy?”

My eyes narrow slightly. “Why are you asking, though?”

Ayomikun’s smile widens. “Why you dey answer our question with question. Shey you enjoy talking with her or not?”

Now I am really suspicious. “Why are both of you asking?”

They both smile. Ayomikun speaks first. “See this guy that we are trying to help. No wahala na.”

Rachel adds, “She’s sha a good person. I have interacted with her a few times. And she’s also single. So strike while the iron is hot, okay?”

“Wait, hold up. How did we get here?” I ask, laughing.

Ayomikun feigns an ignorant look. “Na you know oh. Anyway, I have to go. I have a husband I have to meet at home.”

“Me too, oh. Make I go meet my gist partner,” Rachel adds.

I know a dig when I hear one.

And with that, we conclude our short meeting. I wave the ladies goodbye.

As they walk away and leave me standing there alone, my brain does what it does best and starts overthinking everything.

The way Joy walked towards us made it seem like she knew exactly where we were. Rachel also introduced her to me almost immediately.
Then outing my relationship status at what seems to be the perfect moment, with Joy asking about it as if she expected it.
Not to mention the way Ayomikun brought her up after she left, and imploring me to strike while the iron is hot.

Either this was the most elaborate coincidence, or these women have been planning something I walked straight into without knowing.

And the worst part? I am not even sure I am mad about it.

I am rocked back to reality by a car that moves past me, as the lake catches the last of the evening light. The story has run its course in my head, and I am left with a smile I cannot fully explain, along with a strange new openness to the idea that being matchmade might not be the worst thing in the world.

But then, I shake my head at myself and laugh quietly. “Nah, I’m good”.

Imagination wan kee me.

Well, till next time,

Salud.