Last updated on October 22nd, 2025 at 12:59 pm
I’m back home. I had the best weekend of my life with Angela; everything went right. It was worth it. As usual, I returned and dove straight into work. Work, eat, reach out to bae, more work, sleep, more bae. It’s midweek and I’ve only just had the chance to take a breather. I’m here at the park, with my laptop (of course) and a takeout. There’s a cleaning service woman scrubbing my apartment currently. After a weekend away and me resuming work, surviving on delivered meals for about two days, the apartment was in a mess.
Angela is busy, so I can’t reach out, but this gives me ample time to reflect on the weekend. I dive into my mental archive and think about the whole journey and time with her. On Friday night, we didn’t leave the restaurant until around 11 pm. We were both shocked to see that we had spent about four hours there; it only seemed like 30 minutes. We talked a lot; the relevant and trivial were treated with equal concern. I can’t forget how beautiful she looked.
We met on Saturday in the hotel’s reception and toured some parts of Abuja, then ended up at the movies. After the movies, we split to go about our weekend commitment—me to the photoshoot, Angie to tidy up some chores. I didn’t want her struggling to catch up on her chores and other activities because I wanted to spend all my time with her. We reunited around 5 pm later that day and shared how our activities went. I had a good photoshoot session, it was fun, and some elements from the session will be added to my yearly collection.
Saturday evening was also chill, and we hung out in the private bar beside the hotel’s pool. I finally gave Angie the little gift I got her, and her reaction still melts my heart. She was first surprised, as expected; then she was happy, so happy she hugged me and then I struggled a bit, considering that it was unexpected.
“What’s wrong?” She asked.
“Umm,” I cleared my throat. “Glad you like it,” I said, hoping I didn’t embarrass myself.
“Now I feel bad for not getting you anything. Joe, is it not too soon?”
“Naa, don’t tell me it’s too soon. We didn’t say anything about not getting each other gifts.”
“Really? That’s what you want to do? That’s how you want to play it? No problem,” She smirked, a mischievous smile. My Angie is full of mischief—I found out during my stay: distracting me by showing me something, then running away with my food, forcing me to run after her; making funny faces when I pull out my camera… I couldn’t focus too long on the meaning of her smile since my struggle was still persistent. I was sitting on one of those tall barstools ,and Angie was in between my thighs, lingering after the hug. Her this close meant that her smell assaulted my senses, making it harder for me. I could have sworn she knew the effect she had on me.
Things really sped up over the weekend. It was like we were playing over the phone and seeing each other made it real. I wanted to respect her timing and everything, so it was better that she initiated anything sensitive. Sure, sometimes I pulled her closer into me when I could barely resist, and I also sniffed her a couple of times, but that was it. I didn’t even invite her to my room even though I shared the room number with her on WhatsApp.
Sunday was more laid back. She asked if I wanted to see her house and I said only if she was a thousand percent sure that she wanted me there. “You know what? When next you’re in Abuja, you’ll visit my house.” The challenge of wanting to take things slow yet wanting to take things fast. So we went to a park on Sunday after getting takeout. She came with a blanket, which we lay on as we chatted. Thankfully, it wasn’t a hot day; it was fairly decent weather.
On Sunday, I shared the story of my abuse, the effect, the previous year and how I was getting over it. We talked about Eliam—her plans to strengthen their relationship, when I will get introduced to him, the probability of his father coming back and how to tackle it. We talked for a long time. And eventually came back to us: what’s most important to us in a relationship, living together, chores, finances, emotional intelligence, and wedding.
“Definitely a small wedding.” She said, rubbing her toes on my shin.
“Anything you want, baby.”
“I want my own bedroom.” She squinted at me. I raise one of my brows.
“That’s how we’re playing it? Your own space, your woman cave, your she-shed.”
“Yup.”
“Okies.”
“You’re open to anything, right?” She bumped her shoulder into mine.
“No no, don’t try me, baby.” I shook my head. We both laughed.
