If embarrassment was a person, I’d like to formally challenge it to a duel. Because what happened to me at this wedding? Unforgivable.

It all started with Ada, my secondary school crush turned “fine girl who still doesn’t know I exist.” We hadn’t seen each other in years, but there she was, glowing under the fairy lights, dressed in gele perfection. My destiny helper.

So when I saw her walking towards me, my heart started doing Afrobeats drum patterns. And then—she stretched out her arms.

Listen, my people, what was I supposed to do? I saw open arms, I assumed invitation.

I went in for the hug, full confidence, full chest. Both arms. Because when God gives you a second chance, you don’t waste it. But the moment my body made contact, I felt it—the stiffness.

Something was wrong.

Then I heard the dreaded words:

“Erm… I was reaching for the wine.”

Jesus. Take. The. Wheel.

The silence was so loud I could hear my ancestors sighing in disappointment. She gently untangled herself from my awkward embrace, grabbed the bottle behind me, and walked away like nothing happened. Like she didn’t just publicly assassinate my dignity.

But the universe wasn’t done with me yet. Because guess who saw the whole thing?

The wedding MC.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he announced into the microphone. “I think we just witnessed love in the air!”

The crowd screamed. Some people were clapping. Some aunties started ululating. A hype man in the background was shouting “WIFE MATERIAL OOOO!”

I was finished.

I tried to laugh it off, but my soul had already left my body. My brain was outside in the parking lot, ordering an Uber home.

And then, the ultimate betrayal—my actual babe walked up to me, arms folded.

“Wow. So this is what we’re doing now?”

Moral of the story: Never assume a hug. Never.

Hey Luv, Wait. Feel More Crackko Vibe:

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