I have a sneaking suspicion that my coworker has a crush on me. This is adorable for a few reasons:
1) that’s usually an endearing thing to happen to a person,
2) he’s by far the quietest and most unsure member of our team, and
3) he’s going about it the right way.
We’ll call him Dominic.
Walking around as a single, white female in a small city of black Ghanaians, who are easily amused and rarely embarrassed about anything, I often feel like a piece of meat. Hissing and kissing noises follow me (very normal signals to catch someone’s attention) as do cries of “Yevu/Obruni/Akoss, come, come!”, usually from the young male population.
Dominic, on the other hand, plays the game right.
- He insists on carrying my bag
- He fusses to make sure I have adequate space in the car.
- He holds doors open.
- He constantly offers to buy me things – things I have previously allowed other people to buy (bananas, for instance).
- He always communicates when he’s leaving and when he’ll be back.
- I find small gifts at my desk: a very nice steel pen engraved in a Spanish company’s logo and, recently, the expensive plastic carrying bag from an earlier purchase.
- He passed me walking to work and demanded that I hop on the back of his motorbike for the rest of the way (I happily obliged, of course).
- He only calls me by my name, Sister Becky or Madame; he never asks if we can be ‘friends;’ and he did not profess to having an interest in marrying me within the first 20 seconds of meeting me.
If I’m wrong, at least I’m having a good time being amused by Dominic’s antics.
If I’m right…I have no idea what to do in this situation.