Mr Surprise

August! The sun is out and I’m walking back from Queen Esther’s spa Brixton feeling lovely and toasty

Suddenly I feel a flutter on my shoulder and it’s a dude on a bicycle. On the pavement! (pet peeve) who looks like he only had the training wheels off this morning. He’s really struggling to cycle slowly He tells me that his seat is broken and… Wait, is this dude looking for help with his bike from me? I’m no Jan will fix it. I prepare to let him down gently.  

But no, he asks me if he scared me and I say yes as I had my headphones on. This is the universal hint to fuck off, I don’t want to talk to anyone. He doesn’t apologise and just pavement crawls along side me ….this isn’t creepy at all.

To be clear I’m in post spa flip flops, a tight red dress and general sunshine glow. I’ve ignored the scrubs in cars because clearly they’re ignorable but apparently a bike buddy is harder to ignore. He insists on slowly cycling along ruining my timing of my walk as now I have to make small talk? Grrrr

The conversation

He asked me why I was walking and I told him I liked walking. He looked at me sadly and said, “You can’t afford the fare can you?” Bless. I could have made £1.50.

So he works as a cleaner. He also works for a betting company I’ve never heard of. He also claims that he’s African but his Jamaican accent betrays him. He admits that he’s never been anywhere but England and Jamaica but mansplains to me that we are all from Africa and god has a plan for him. Not only do we have a hotep but one who isn’t very bright as he can’t fathom that I’ve not just come from the gym. It was a spa. Then it hits me! He’s trying to flirt and say something about m figure. I almost suck in my belly but then figure I can’t walk, talk and not breathe in this heat. Let me just relax.

I ask his name as something tells me I’ll see him again and he says, Mr Surprise. He wobbles on the bike and tries to stare into my eyes at the same time. Then he says, he wants to come over and surprise me. He does something disturbing with his hips. Not sure if this is a pelvic shimmy or if the seat is bothering him again?

Dear God. How do these lyrics ever work for him! I want to laugh but he’s so busy concentrating on not faling off the bike….

 He asks if there’s a Mr Right and I tell him my boyfriend Mr Right is at home right now waiting on me. He doesn’t need to know that Mr Right is half a bottle of shloer and some lemon brownies.

I’m hoping that this will be enough to get him to go but no, he now breaks down his status woes. He only got his papers recently because his baby mudda was holding out. I asked him how long he’s been in the UK and it’s almost 20 years! That’s one hell of a bitter break up. I learn more about home affairs in 45 seconds than weeks of poor metro reporting. It’s rough out there.

Goodbye Mr. Surprise

Alas, I don’t want to sponsor anyone. He hints that he’s only got 2 children but would be willing to have more if it helped his paper status. Again he do the bike wobble stare thing and I tell him gently that Mr Right has all of me so I can’t help. He looks sad but not beaten. I’m sure there is a Mrs Surprise out there

I’ve figured out from what he’s said that eventually he’ll have to turn left and let me walk on straight. As we get to that point he asks me if he can walk me back home. I remind him that Mr Right wouldn’t approve and he seems to accept that he would be a hard sell to a husband (apparently he upgraded him from boyfriend in the last 7 minutes . Married without the stress of a wedding! Yay me)

Stay woke ladies Carnival weekend ALWAYS brings out the winter warmer opportunists. Also the papers thing sounds like a chore.

Happy sunny day!

© Chelsea Black 2019  

Chelsea Black is a writer. Romantically seeking her Fubo (future boyfriend) she often gets distracted by misadventures. She is currently working on her second book, first baby (sperm to be confirmed) and first real career. Chocolate and cocktails are food groups