I over really loved this one- the ‘accidental Cougar story’. Lol
“Hey Babes, can you pass me a fiver?” Noah called out to me.
We were at a KFC Drive-Through and he had his head stuck out his window to place our order.
I love KFC chicken and I think it is the Holy Grail of chicken and if anyone dares disagree with me on that, I’ll be bringing out the claws. So, this beautifully freezing Saturday morning, I made him drive through Clapham Common despite the traffic we were bound to face, all so I could get my chicken-fix.
“I haven’t got a fiver.” I said as Beyonce’s Smash Into You came on the radio. The moment couldn’t have been anymore perfect. I had my favorite person in the world, Robb Howard seemed to be reading my mind and I was two minutes away from chicken-heaven, Ah-mean, what more could a girl ask for?
“Will a twenty do?” I asked.
“Nah, can you check the cubbyhole?” he replied.
I reached into the cubbyhole and made a face at the junk inside of it. I was crazy about the guy and he ranked up there along with my beloved KFC chicken (which really is saying something) but mehn, his car was the stuff of nightmares.
I met Noah about two years ago at a friend’s party. It had been one of those Naija parties where there was no Jollof rice (someone once said that a party without Jollof is like a Funeral and I totally agree) and the chicken they served had been fried to a crisp (why oh why can’t everyone learn from KFC and save a girl unnecessary heart ache?!), so you can imagine how very miserable I was at the party.
He’d been the only non-black person (for lack of a better expression) at the party and he automatically qualified as the listening ear to my elaborate moaning and gripping about the state of the food. Don’t judge me so quick, he also couldn’t identify with the food, seeing as he’d never had fried plantain before in his life and hadn’t even realized that the gizzard of a bird was edible.
We’d hit if off from there and became fast friends. It’s a wonder we hadn’t met before then because we seemed to have the same circle of friends. We became a couple a little over three months ago and his Iranian-German-Celtic ancestry hadn’t bothered me one bit. My mother always did say I was a rebel and that I would be the one to send her to an early grave with my wahala (so she’s been saying for the last few decades and I wonder if she realizes she’s no spring chicken anymore).
“You’ve got just pennies in here…oh found it!” I exclaimed, fishing out the five-pound note.
“Thanks Babes.” He said taking it from me.
“What’s your licence doing in all this junk?” I asked, bring it out of the cubbyhole as well.
“I leave it in there because I almost always forget my wallet at home.” He said driving, to the pick-up window.
“Like seriously!” That was so, so typical of him. If it was possible, he would forget himself at home sef.
“You look like someone stole your bread!” I said, laughing at the picture on the licence.
“Haha!” he retorted dryly. He was quite used to my Naija ways by now. The laughter died on my lips when I spied the D.O.B on the licence.
“Wait, is this for real?!” I asked, incredulous.
I looked from the piece of plastic to his face in utter disbelief.
“Your date of birth!” I replied, breathless.
“Why wouldn’t it be?” he asked looking at me in that open, unassuming way of his. How could he be so calm when me I was mentally running down the street screaming and tearing out my hair!
“Did you know that I’m older?!”
Five years older! Oh Lord!!! He’d thrown me a surprise party for the big 3-0 last month, so of course he knew!
“Why, yes I do.” He said simply, still giving me that look and I wanted to scream for real this time.
He collected our order and the smell of deep-fried chicken filled the insides of the car but I almost didn’t notice.
“And that doesn’t bother you?!”
He looked at me like I was crazy.
“Why would it?” He said. “I love you Babes and that’s all that matters. Who cares if you’re from Mars?”
What?!!!!! He didn’t just drop a bombshell and then slap me with the “L” word!!!
He pulled out of the drive-through, humming along with Bey like all was well with the world and the sky was blue.
So Ladies, can you date or marry a younger man? How much younger is too young?
What of the Guys? Is age really just a number? How far are you willing to go for her, a few months, two years, maybe five?