I always wondered if my dream man existed. They say true love can find you anywhere. What I didn't know was that it would find me at work.
I was a bottle girl at one of Lagos' busiest clubs. The kind of place where money moved like liquid — easy, constant, unremarkable. One night, Danny reserved our VIP section to celebrate his girlfriend's birthday. The drinks were top-shelf, the food was out of this world, and the energy was exactly what a Lagos party was supposed to be. Loud, lavish, alive.
It was going well until late into the night, when a man arrived with three others and dismantled the entire evening in minutes. He was also dating the birthday girl.
Danny left without a word. I watched him walk out, and somewhere between the table and the exit, his wallet slipped from his pocket. I picked it up and ran after him, catching him just as he reached his car. He took it from my outstretched hand without so much as a glance and drove away.
I stood in the car park for a moment, then went back inside.
It's been three weeks now since the incident. I never saw him again until today. He was having a drink with some friends. He asked to see the girls who had worked the VIP section the night of the birthday. Two of us were on duty. He studied us both quietly before asking if either of us remembered what had happened after he left.
'I returned your wallet,' I said.
Something shifted in his expression. He reached into his jacket, produced a card, and held it out to me.
'Call me.'
I took it and didn't think much of it.
On my next day off, more out of curiosity than anything else, I called. We spoke briefly, but long enough for me to realise he was entirely different from what I had assumed. I had taken one look at him — the VIP bookings, the tailored outfits, the ease with which he spent — and decided I already knew who he was. One of those Lagos big boys who wear their money like a second skin and expect the world to adjust accordingly.
But he wasn't that at all. Danny was actually a cool guy.
We began talking regularly. Casual dates followed — nothing dramatic, just two people getting to know each other slowly and without pretence. One evening, he told me, gently but honestly, that he thought I should leave the club. Not because he was ashamed, but because he believed the environment didn't reflect what I was actually worth. When I eventually showed him my CV, he went quiet for a long moment.
'Why are you still working there?' he asked.
He didn't wait for a full answer before he started helping me look for something better.
Now, that's my kind of man. My dream man. And that was how our love story started.
One morning, in his usual routine, he made me breakfast in bed. I felt a soft tap on my shoulder and heard his voice, low and close —
'Babe, wake up.'
I smiled before I opened my eyes.
It was Nene, my roommate. Standing over me with her arms crossed, the morning already half gone.
'Wake up. You're late for work.'
I lay still for a moment after she left the room, staring at the ceiling.
My dream man exists. Only in my dreams.