Events had come to a point when Wilson felt he needed to act to save himself from perpetually bearing the toga of ‘permanent bachelor,’ by those who always asked him the irritating question, “When will you marry?” At first, he laughed at the question but when his mother began to ‘trouble’ him with the same question, it was no longer a laughing matter. “I will tell you when I’m ready’ once helped but it no longer gave him any comfort. It felt cold and almost lifeless, perhaps because he had overused it. It had become monotonous. Very cold indeed. And who falls in love with anything cold but ice-cream?

Speaking of falling in love, he had begun to fall in love with the idea of the likely fallout of his would-be conversation with one of the landlords in the estate where he lived. The gentleman was one of those persons who always asked him the question and out of respect, he obliged him with the answer that he would when he was ready. At the end of the monthly meeting of residents in the estate where he lived, which held on the last Saturday of every month, he psyched himself to answer the ‘concerned’ gentleman. Having discovered that the ‘concerned,’ gentleman had as an only child a 20-year-old daughter who was an undergraduate in one of the private universities in the country, he prepared to answer the question differently from how he always answered in the past.

“When will you marry Wilson?”

“Sir, you have always asked me this question. Thank you for your concern”

“Oh, it’s nothing my friend. But tell me, is there a problem?”

“No, sir, you know there is time for everything.”

“Sure, Wilson”

“Sir, I have been taking my time because I don’t want to make any mistakes”

“Sure, I was almost thinking there was something wrong with you”

“There is nothing wrong with me, sir”

“Thank God, so who is the lucky girl and have you spoken to her?”

“Not yet sir”

“Why not?”

“I’m planning to do that this weekend”

“Do I know the lucky girl?”

“Yes sir”

“Oh, who is she?”

“Your only daughter, sir”

“Tufiakwa!”