So which of you is dating a Policeman? - By NAIJASINGLEGIRL

A guy rocking a uniform looks immensely hotter than he would if he were wearing plain clothes. But why is that? Often, men in uniform must abide by certain grooming standards (close shaves or neatly- trimmed hair), they command respect and the creases of their starched clothing are far more impressive than anything my ironing skills could conjure up.

Sadly, the only men in uniform that seem to approach me are gatemen, NYSC corpers and the SS2 boy downstairs. Arrggghh

On a lighter note, I met a policeman on Monday.

I had stood for over 10 minutes trying to cross the highway before an elderly policeman came to my rescue. He flagged down all incoming vehicles for me to cross safely. I thanked him and proceeded to walk away but he asked for my name & place of origin. When I told him, he came up with a fable of how his grandma’s sister-in-law nephew is my uncle brother cousin. Typical Nigerian behaviour of tracing your family ancestry to theirs when they need your attention. *sigh* Then he pointed at a bar and told me to sit out with my ‘village person’ briefly.

I stuttered on how I needed to be home in 10 minutes and all he did was take one look at me and another at his cellotaped patched gun strut around his shoulders.

Who wan die? I quietly followed him.

We sat by the window.

He told me to order a drink and I timidly requested for pineapple fayrouz for fear that he might arrest me if I order a fancy champagne and ibo. For where?

Then he told me some unfunny jokes and I had to let out a fake laughter for fear that he might shoot me if I don’t find him funny. I was in my seat like “Oga Police, this your N20 joke funny die.” To sum up how miserable I was, his mode of communication was unadulterated pidgin. When he noticed I was twiddling with my straw nervously, he gave me that crafty, ‘relax, the police is your friend’ look.

“Baby girl as you never chop here, shebi you go follow me go house go cook soup for us?”

“Sir I can’t oh. I have a slight fever and I feel drowsy.” I replied, flabbergasted at his request.

“Drowsy drowsy…drowsy.” He murmured repeatedly. “Na why you for drink stout instead of this yeye sugar water so the drowsy go just commot.” 
“What I mean is, I feel sleepy.” I said.

He walked briskly to the window and pointed towards the left.

“You see that catholic church. You go go my house go sleep. E no far from here. Just waka straight, enter that compound opposite that catholic church, ask for chairman house. Na me be the area commander for this side.”

He looked me in the eyes and smirked. “As you don become my girl, nobody fit make trouble with you for this town.”

Na so!

One hawker passed with a bucket of buns.

“Egg roll dey pass oh!” He exclaimed. ” You go chop am with your mineral?”

“Thank you.” I said sincerely.

I couldn’t laugh.

Apparently, the only way I could break-up with my new romantic boyfriend was to play along. I told him to give me an hour so I could go over to my house, drop my bags and come over to his for a nap.

His face lightened up.

He brought out a hideous walkie talkie phone and told me to input my phone number. One of those Hollywood ‘Jack Bauer, do you copy’ alcatel gadgets.

I took his, typed mined in his walkie talkie but replaced the last digit with 4. My apologies to the unlucky person.

He produced a bunch of keys and twirled out a spare for me.

“Panadol dey for table for sitting room if the fever still dey do you. Shebi you go wait till I come house? I go come meet you around that kind 6. ”

“6 ke? Ah Oga Police don’t you have armed robbers to shoot? Don’t you have roadblocks to mount?” Those where my thoughts but I didn’t voice them out.

I nodded in affirmation and left.

I’m still with his key. I have no intentions of ever passing his lane and I’m lucky where I live is quite a distance.

Here is to hoping I don’t find my photo in one of those wanted posters.

If that is how local a relationship with a man in uniform is, abeg abeg abeg I no want.