Some say that dating is much easier when your friends or loved ones play matchmaker, but they forget this only works if you can trust the matchmaker’s assessment. If you’ve tried advising someone who is in love, you can understand the futility of such an endeavour.

It was a Friday afternoon. It must have been a public holiday or one of those long holidays. We were hanging out as friends, and amongst us was Kiki. He had just returned from abroad. Over the years, he’d pop by for short periods, but this time he had found a job in the country and would be staying longer.

“Let’s go see that place with a dam and restaurants everybody keeps talking about,” suggested one of us.

One of us was chatting with Agnes, and we mentioned what we were up to, and she wanted to tag along.

“Who’s Agnes?” Kiki asked.

“A friend of ours,” replied someone. They also showed him her photo.

“Why aren’t you introducing me to your hot friends?” Kiki asked.

We had a good laugh about the matter as we picked up Agnes.

The afternoon went well, and we all enjoyed the site. Later, we decided to look for food and then went back to one of our friends’ houses. Agnes and Kiki were friendly. They seemed to enjoy each other’s company. None of us thought it would turn out to be anything besides friendship.

A few weeks later, Kiki confided in us.

“What’s up with your friend?” Kiki asked.

“Which friend?” I asked.

“Agnes,” said Kiki.

“Why? What happened?” Another friend asked.

“I thought we had something, then I began to feel like she’s lost interest,” Kiki said.

“Wait, you two have been seeing each other?” I asked, surprised.

“Why do you sound so surprised? She’s beautiful, smart and fun. That’s my type,” said Kiki.

“That I can see,” I said.

He looked at me as though he was waiting for me to finish the other part of the puzzle. Before I could say anything else, Rachel, one of our friends, joined in the conversation.

“I didn’t think your Agnes’ type, though,” she said.

“What do you mean?” Kiki asked.

You could see the disappointment on his face. Some of us weren’t sure whether we should share our opinion with him, but there was no stopping Rachel from talking.

“I mean, you’re a good-looking guy with a good job, but you’re a simple guy,” she said.

“How is any of that a bad thing?” Kiki asked.

“Agnes likes them rich, showy and loud,” Rachel said.

Kiki looked a bit surprised, then he collected his jaw from the floor.

“Actually, that makes a lot of sense,” he said.

“Why? Did you send her a cab instead of picking her up?” Rachel asked.

“Oh! You knew about that?” Kiki asked.

“She’s very clear. Any man who wants to spend time with her must pick her up and drop her at her doorstep, regardless of the logistics. She doesn’t appreciate people who make girls use taxis,” Rachel said. She didn’t like Agnes, so she rolled her eyes in disapproval.

Kiki had gotten into an argument with Agnes about the matter. He was on the other side of town, and they had made plans. Being a practical person, he’d asked her to meet him at a certain restaurant. It had turned into a huge fight, though he eventually picked her up; they spent more time in traffic than at the restaurant.

“She did say I have done well for myself, but I’m a simple guy,” Kiki said.

“Well, you having stayed outside the country was attractive to her, but you don’t do flashy things,” we told him.

“Isn’t my reliability and stability enough?” Kiki asked.

We tried to explain that Agnes preferred rich men who looked the part. “Think of the guy with a conspicuous car, phone, dresses in a way that screams ‘money’ and commands that attention,” we explained.

“Why does it matter?” Kiki asked.

“Hey! We all have what turns us on,” I told him.

Kiki had a few more questions, but he understood why none of us had introduced him to Agnes before, despite her being attractive. They were totally mismatched.

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