I have met all kinds of men but Vincent tops the chart in the weird department!

He had seen my picture on my friend’s status when she made a post for my birthday. According to him, it was love at first glance. I didn’t believe him, but boy, Vincent was persistent. His entire selling point was that he was a God-fearing guy who took the things of God seriously. He was so intent on selling the God-fearing part that when I finally agreed to do a trial date with him, he insisted we have it in the presence of the Lord. I found that ridiculous, but I really needed to get back in the dating pool again, so I agreed against my better judgment.

On this unfortunate Sunday, he sent me his church address at 5AM, informing me that service starts at 8AM and I should try not to be late. To make a good impression, I got up by 6AM, groomed and preened till 7AM and I was ready for my ‘holy date’.

After a quick cup of coffee to keep me awake during the service, I rushed into my rickety car and drove down to the church, which was located at Ojota, Lagos. I got to the church premises at exactly 7:49, and I dialed his number while impressed with myself. Vincent didn’t pick up, instead after a few rings I got the busy tone and a text message. It read: ‘I’ll call you back, brushing.’

Brushing, how? 

If he was brushing at 7:49, then he certainly wasn’t in church yet. That meant my early morning had been in vain. I was upset, but I also didn’t want to conclude too soon, so I decided to wait in my car till he arrived.

Vincent did not arrive at church until 8:50, about an hour after I had called him. He didn’t even inform me of his arrival. It was after I saw him stride into the service that I realized I would have to run after him.
Thankfully, I was able to catch up to him, and he led me towards the front.

Picture this: 

The whole church was seated listening to the Bible reading and we were striding confidently to the front of the church. In my opinion that was just disrespectful and in bad taste. Just before we got to the front row, I ducked into a scanty row and found a seat for myself. The seat beside me was also empty, so he joined me and I silently prayed that the worst part was over. It was not.

After all of the Bible activities, it was time for the sermon. As the pastor started preaching, Vincent brought out a mini manicure set from his pocket.

‘Ha! is this playing?’ I thought.

He calmly took out the nail cutters, placed his right foot on his left knee, and began to clip his toenails. I was horrified.

The lackadaisical way he went about it told me that this was not his first time doing this in church. When he was done with the toes on his right leg, he moved on to his left. By the time that was done, I was covering my face in shame because other members of the congregation around us looked at him oddly.
But it was far from over. Next, he took out the cuticle removers and methodically trimmed his cuticles. He was so at ease! In the house of the Lord!

Next came the filing. He did this so well that even I was impressed. To wrap it all up, he used the edge of his small scissors to scrape the bottom of his feet. Dead skin was everywhere and it was irritating. I didn’t understand why he needed to do it, but anyone who could treat the house of the Lord he claimed to love so disrespectfully would treat me worse. 

As the pastor began his closing statements, Vincent also began gathering his nail shrapnel from the floor. It could not get worse, but it did. He put all of the dead skin and nails in his pocket and then whispered to me to lend him my hand sanitizer and lotion. I happened to have both so I gave him. But I couldn’t wait for this disgraceful date to be over.

After service, he asked that we go to lunch and talk some more but I was just done. What made it easier was the fact that he wanted me to drive us both to the mall for lunch since he didn’t have a car. I didn’t have a problem with the driving part, but he chose a mall that was well out of our way (The Palms Mall, Lekki). According to him, he liked to enjoy a cool afternoon drive on Third Mainland Bridge so that he could take in the beauty of the water as it glittered in the afternoon sun. I am no tour guide and I certainly was not going to be anyone’s chauffeur for the afternoon.

With my dignity intact, I walked away from him and drove myself home in peace.

The following day, my friend called to ask me why I abandoned him during the date, so I narrated my experience. I then asked her: was I wrong to abandon him?