How A Lost Wallet Nearly Ruined My First Valentine

During my second year at university, I decided to propose to Vida. It wasn’t an easy task initially, but I felt it was something I had to do. One morning after lectures, I found a moment to approach her and express my feelings. She asked, “Nti ne koraa koraa ne sɛn?” I replied, “Nti ne koraa koraa ne sɛ I want you to be my girlfriend. I’ve admired you from a distance for a long time, and I believe now is the right moment to share what’s in my heart.”

She responded, “I’m glad to know you care about me. Let’s take some time to get to know each other and see where this goes.” When she mentioned “some time,” I interpreted it as a matter of days, hoping that soon her “some time” would come to fruition. However, “some time” can mean different things depending on what one seeks from a relationship. It could be just a day or two, but when it comes to a love proposal, it could stretch on indefinitely—or even never happen.

I remained patient, checking in occasionally to see if she had learned everything she needed to know about me. Nine months later, I received a text message from her: “I trust you, and I’m willing to give us a chance to see if this love thing works.”

After waiting for nine months, all I got was a trial period. She had observed me, but now she wanted to see if I was worthy of her love. February marked the beginning of my trial. A week into it was Valentine’s Day, and I felt the need to impress her. However, as a student, money was tight. My parents didn’t account for my romantic endeavors in their financial support, so I had to find a way to fund my plans. I had two phones: an iPhone and an Infinix. I sold the iPhone to gather some cash for Valentine’s Day.

We arranged a date, and she chose the location. On Valentine’s night, I arrived at her hostel with a gift. I waited for her to get ready before we headed out. Once we reached the restaurant, I paid the taxi driver, and we entered. A waitress approached us with a menu, and we placed our orders. About twenty to thirty minutes later, our food arrived.

But something felt off.

It’s uncomfortable to sit with a wallet in your back pocket, and even more so when that wallet contains money from selling an iPhone. It was bulky and disrupted my balance, but I was managing until I instinctively checked my pocket… and realized my wallet was missing.

My heart raced. I began to fidget in my seat, my mind racing. “Where could my wallet be?” I thought. “I couldn’t have left it in the taxi because I paid the driver with it.” I excused myself and stepped outside to see if it had fallen on the ground where we got out. Nothing was there. We were sitting there, enjoying a meal we couldn’t afford.

I felt despondent. If she had looked closely, she might have sensed something was wrong, but she was too engrossed in her meal. I needed to think quickly to avoid embarrassment, so I approached the waitress at the counter and explained, “This is my first date with my girlfriend, but unfortunately, I’ve lost my wallet on the way here. This means we can’t pay for our orders. Is it possible to let us leave and return with the money later? I don’t want to create a scene that would embarrass her.”

She scrutinized me from head to toe, either confused or assessing my sanity.

“I’m not a bad person; I’m just in a tough spot,” I added. I considered offering her my phone as collateral but quickly dismissed the idea when I remembered it was an Infinix. Who would want that?

She replied, “You’ll need to speak to our manager. He might be able to help.” I said, “I’m fine with that. Where can I find him?” She then said, “Just enjoy your meal. I’ll talk to him for you.”

I returned to my table. Vida asked, “I thought you were ordering something.” I replied, “Yeah, they didn’t have it, so the waitress is sorting something else.” I sat there, anxious about what the manager would say. A few minutes later, the waitress signaled for me to come over. “If I tell my manager, it will complicate things and ruin your night. I’ll cover your bill, and you can pay me back later. You’ve been honest about your situation, and that’s why I want to help.”

I let out a sigh of relief and said, “Thank you.”

A little later, she approached our table again, asking, “Are you enjoying your meals?” I nodded. Vida chimed in, “Yes, it’s great! Do you have freshly squeezed juice with blah blah blah?” The waitress replied, “Of course we do.” My heart soared!

We had a wonderful time together, and I felt that night had shortened my trial period. Afterward, we took a taxi back to campus. When we arrived, I asked her to settle the taxi fare, which she happily did. The next morning, she called to thank me and asked me never to change. I assured her, “This is who I am, and I’ll always be.”

I shared my experience with my roommates, and they found it hilarious. They began asking “what if” questions: “What if the waitress hadn’t agreed to help? What if Vida had found out what was happening? What if…?”

The most important thing was that I had a fantastic time with my girlfriend, and everything turned out fine. I borrowed money from the same friends who had been teasing me to pay off the bill I left behind. I was so grateful to the waitress that I wanted to kneel down and thank her, but she said, “I didn’t do it for you. I did it for a sister. I couldn’t stand by and watch her night ruined. I’m a woman, and I understand how painful situations like this can be.”

About a year later, I finally told my girlfriend what had happened that night. She was both shocked and amused. “I suspected something was off, but I couldn’t figure it out,” she said. Most importantly, she was grateful to the waitress who had saved our evening. 

Agyeman