Single on Sunday

Dear Diary,
I just did the most confounded thing ever! I went to the city centre on Sunday- as a single person. I must have missed the ‘couples only’ memo, which explains why everyone was in twos, hand in hand, hand on waist, hand on shoulder, like fresh new releases from Tata Noah’s Ark.

I decided to proceed with my plan for the day- to have a meal at a certain eatery on Kampala Road. Since they have not yet invented half-size tables with one chair only for single diners, I sat at a table for four.
Just as I was taking the first bite of my juicy chicken burger, I saw two Sunday lovebirds enter the obviously-full diner.

They looked around and headed straight for my table. The girl settled herself into a seat at MY table with a sigh of blessed relief, as if they were on a pilgrimage from Namugongo!

At least the male lovebird had the courtesy to ask whether I minded having them join me. I said, very clearly, “Yes I do mind” but guess what, he sat anyway. Diary, war had been brought to my doorstep. It was time for action.

I’m not proud of the events that follow but I vowed my dear Aunt Nelly on her deathbed to always tell the truth and shame the devil. So, here goes.
I employed a three-pronged strategy to get rid of the trespassers at my table.

One, I chewed loudly and noisily, smacking my fingers with great relish and staring directly into their eyes as I did so. Nothing doing.

Two, I waited till their order arrived- an anorexic single plate of fries - and dug in heartily. The girl looked terrified, but I pressed on. All is fair in love and war!

Three, I joined in their conversation, even moving seats to do so. I assured Prossy (by now we were on first-name basis) that Deo loves her totally, to the point of madness, even.

I think I may have crossed the line though, when I warned Deo about Prossy’s wandering eye. She jumped up and left, with Deo close behind and their sodas only half-consumed. Victory was mine!

Lesson: never insist on sharing my table!