A letter to my Future Partner

Talk joor! Are you joking or are you serious?

I was joking. It was obviously a joke!

Hmm. Okay.

Hmm.

You know, if I had superpowers, I would be a doctor who could cure any disease. Any disease at all. What would you choose?

I would want to see the future. Know everything before it happens. Who you marry. What you become. What the world looks like long after I am gone.

Only God knows what is going on in that head of yours.

You are not serious. Pick a card. Hold on, let me shuffle. Okay, now pick!

My card says, "Your partner must tell you something they have always wanted to say but never said." Go ahead. Tell me.

Hmmm. Okay. Edgar, I like you a lot. And I once dreamt of mothering your children. Stop smiling; I should not have said that. That is crazy!

That is not crazy at all. I have thought about you being my wife before. More than once.

And you never said it. Now that is crazy.

YOO!

My turn. My card says, "Write three honest sentences to someone you care about. Read it out loud." I am writing to you. Give me a second.

"I am glad I met you. I hope life is kind to you. And I hope whoever gets you knows exactly what they have."

That is three sentences that could change a person.

Your turn. Same card. But yours must be to someone you have not met yet.

"I do not know your name yet. I do not know your face. But I am here, and I am not going anywhere."

I love it. Mr Romantic. You should write that down properly someday. Not just three sentences. Everything.

Maybe I will.

Not maybe. You should.

My next card. I cannot do this one oh. It is too much. See.

Oya! Rules are rules. You have to.

I cannot do it, Edgar. I am sorry.

You can. We are already here. The garden is fine. The weather is perfect. Why not?

Because Edgar, I am dying. I have a few days to live. If I had years ahead of me, I would jump at it and scream yes with a ring on my finger. But I don't.

But you are alive right now.

But what if I am not here tomorrow?

Don't say that.

There is a woman out there for you. Someone who loves what you love, who will fight for you, who shares everything you are dreaming of, and she is not going anywhere anytime soon. That woman is not me, Edgar. She is just not me.

What if I die with you?

Then that will be foolish. What purpose will your life have?

It is my turn; let me pick a card.

You had me completely. I forgot we were even playing.

I told you I could act! My card says, "Make a wish and your partner must fulfil it." I like this one.

You better not say anything crazy.

You once told me you were a writer. I want you to write something sweet. To your future wife. Something from your heart. Something real. Write something to your soulmate.

Soulmate? Abeg oh.

Rules are rules. You have to.

Okay fine…I will do that when I get home.

That is sweet. By the way, I was not acting when I said I was dying.

I don't understand.

I actually have a few days to live.

For real?

Talk joor! Are you joking or are you serious?

I was joking. It was obviously a joke!

Hmm. Okay!

Hmm.

Hey guys, what's up? It is 8 in the morning, and today I woke up to see one of the sweetest things I have ever seen in my lifetime. My neighbour's boyfriend just proposed to her. After six years of dating, this girl is finally getting married. Omo, the guy came with a live band to sing her favourite song, gave her flowers, a brand new iPhone, and the keys to a brand new tear rubber car. As she was screaming and jumping, he went to his knees on the road. Cars were passing. People were watching. I was watching from my window. You needed to see the way people were shouting, "Say yes, say yes, say yes." Even me, I was shouting 'say yes' from my room. I mean, why would she say no? Someone is giving you an iPhone, flowers, and a brand new car. Besides, they have been dating for six years, and the guy is cute, rich, and romantic. What else does she want? If I were to guess the total cost of that proposal, just the proposal, not the wedding, I would say somewhere around 15 to 16 million. Only God knows what he will get her as a push present. If he is starting with a car, maybe a private jet is next. Anyways, I am happy for them. Two years ago, they had one of the biggest fights I have ever seen. I do not know what started it, but I watched them throw punches at each other from my window. It was so bad that their landlord got the police involved. You needed to see her after the guy had beaten her black and blue. She looked like an ugly chimpanzee licking lime. All her facial parts were in a straight line. Lips swollen, eyes swollen, nose swollen, and even her ears were swollen. After the fight, she packed her bags and said she was leaving. I saw her carry it out myself. Everybody in the compound thought that was the end of the relationship. Even Mama Chidi, my neighbour, begged her not to go. She left that morning and came back with the guy two days later. I asked her about it sometime after. I asked her why she came back to the house. She said she left the house to stay with her mother and that while she was with her mother, she received a letter from her boyfriend. A folded piece of paper. No envelope. Just her name written on the front in his handwriting. She said she was too upset to open it immediately, but that on the third day she saw it again and opened it. It was not a long letter. He was not a man of many words. But she said it was everything she had needed to hear for six years. She read it once and thought she was overreacting. Read it again and started crying. She sent the letter to her sister to read; her sister read it and also started crying. By the seventh read, she was not angry anymore. Just sad. And she told me her sadness made her realise that she still loved him. She said her mother begged her not to go back but she refused and went with her heart. She said that since he sent the letter, he has not hit her again. Two years later, he is proposing to her with a live band, an iPhone, a brand new car, and an expensive diamond ring. All because he sent a letter to her. Letter! It is not that I like quarrel oh, but how can a few words on paper do what six years of conversation could not? How can a common letter of a few words say more than what six years together had not managed to say? What did he write in that letter? If a letter can heal something broken, maybe a letter can build something new. I remember asking her for the details of the letter but she refused to share them. Instead, she said, He called me his soulmate and I agree. We cannot leave each other. I am happy for her. But I do not believe in soulmates. Think about it. There are over 8 billion people on this earth. And somehow the one person made specifically for me is supposed to be within a 10-kilometre radius of my house in Lagos? God is not that lazy na. What if my soulmate was born in 2023? Do I wait for her to be an adult, or do I become a paedophile and get sentenced to life in prison? What if she got tired of waiting and married another man? Do I sue him for marrying a woman God ordained for me? What if my soulmate is dead? What if I am wrong? There are so many what-ifs. Look at my own life. I have a podcast. I am practically a public figure. I am known as the most single man in Nigeria. They should put my picture in the dictionary next to the word single. How hard will it be for my soul to find a mate, let alone a soulmate? Sadly, I do not think the universe is sending anyone. If I actually had a soulmate out there, I think I need to go and find her myself. Today I want to speak into my future. I want to write a letter to my soulmate and hope the universe takes it to her. People always say, "Edgar, you are still young; why are you rushing?" I am not rushing. I am running. There is a difference. This year, I will be turning 29. To young that is young, to me that's far from my original plan. Growing up, I had a simple plan. Finish secondary school at 16, graduate from university at 20, start working at 22, marry at 25 give birth to Edgar Junior at 26, and have more kids before I clock 30. Now, I finished university at 20 and started working at 22. So tell me why I am not married at 25. Edgar Junior will soon turn to Edgar Senior. The boy has not even been born and he is already aging. Again, I do not believe in soulmates, but today I want to write a letter to mine. Yes, I know what I just said. Don't come for me. I believe whoever I marry is my soulmate. So this is for her. My missing rib. My person. The woman who is going to walk down the aisle with me and do life with me forever. I have done things that make sense, and nothing worked. Today I am trying something that does not make sense. I am going to write this right here with you guys. You are going to hear me write it, question it, cancel it, rewrite it, and eventually get it right. If you think my letter sucks, send me something better at edgar@checkedgar.com. Alright. I have my pen and paper. Give me a second. Okay. I am ready. She'd better be ready too.

"Dear Future Partner. How are you doing? I hope your day is going better than mine."

Wait first! What kind of dead intro is that? Why am I starting like I am writing an informal letter in primary 5? Issac, can I get some romantic music, please? I need to set the mood. Thank you. Let us try again.

"Dear Future Partner. Good morning, my baby. Finally, you have found my letter. I know you are smiling right now reading this. I have been waiting for this moment for so long and I, "

Wait. How do I know she is smiling? What if she found this on a bad day? And "finally you have found my letter", found it where? This is not a treasure hunt. If someone sent me a letter that started like that, I would tear it and send it back. Nonsense. Let me start again.

"Dear Future Partner. Hi! My name is Edgar Eriakha. I host a podcast called Why Am I Still Single, which, by the way, if you are reading this and have never listened, please go and listen immediately. Start from the beginning. Double M Ammanda. You wait."

No. Am I writing to my soulmate or am I advertising my podcast? Let me start again.

"Dear Future Partner. Good morning, my baby. As I sit here and write this letter to you, I write with every belief in me, knowing fully well that this doesn't make sense to the people of this world. I mean, who writes a letter to someone they haven't met or even know? Right? But lately I have been feeling different. I feel like you already know me and you're just listening, watching, and waiting for me to find you. And I am writing to you from 2026 to say, "I am here. Please find me."

...That is actually not bad. But "please find me"? Why do I sound like a missing person report? Like one of those emotional flyers taped to a pole. Let me remove that part. When it's not like I have been kidnapped.

Who is that?

Edgar! Edgar, abeg! It's me, Mama Chidi!

Mama Chidi, good morning Ma.

My generator! Since yesterday night, it has been giving me serious problems. Fuel is there, wire is there, everything is there. My husband is not around. Can you come and help me check it?

Mama Chidi, I am in the middle of something very important

My son, don't be angry, I have big big chicken in my freezer! Big big chicken! If that generator does not come on, everything will spoil. You know how much chicken costs now? Edgar, you are my son. Biko!

CheckMates, I am going to Mama Chidi's apartment. I will be right back.

Who are you talking to? Are you in a meeting?

Something like that. I am in the middle of a recording. It's a podcast.

Podclass? Are you marking WAEC, NECO, or GCE?

Mama Chidi, please. Let us go.

Are you angry?

This is exactly why I need to get married. I am trying to write a love letter to my future wife, speaking into my destiny and my neighbour needs her generator fixed. If I were married, my wife would not allow this nonsense. Future partner, please note your husband can do all things, including bringing a dead generator back to life.

This one you are sweating like this… sorry, my son!

Mama Chidi, when did you last service this generator?

I do not know. It is my husband that does it. But it is not that old na.

Mama Chidi, this generator is older than my last heartbreak. It needs to retire. It needs a pension. You have been using this generator for more than 6 years now.

Eh! Chineke! God bless you, Edgar! The woman that will marry you, she will not see problem. She will give birth to her own children in Jesus' name!

Amen, Ma. I am going back upstairs.

Edgar wait. You and my daughter Cordelia, are you people fighting?

No. We are cool.

The two of you do not play together like before. That time, if I am looking for my daughter, I look for you. If I am looking for you, I look for my daughter. What happened na?

MAMA CHIDI abeg. Were you not the one that told Cordelia not to follow me because I do not have a future? Is that not what you told her?

Ewo! Is that what she told you? My son, I was only joking. Of course you have a future na. Are you not the one that fixed my generator now? Of course, you have future.

Mama Chidi, please remind your husband to service this generator or buy another one.

Okay. Ehen my son, do you know how to repair freezer? My freezer is not cold like before.

When your husband comes, tell him.

Ah! You are angry oh!

CheckMates, I am back. My neighbours can be a handful. Where were we? Okay. Let me see what I have written so far.

Dear Future Partner. Good morning, my baby. As I sit here and write this letter to you, I write with every belief in me, knowing fully well that this doesn't make sense to the people of this world. I mean, who writes a letter to someone they haven't met or even know? Right? But lately I have been feeling different. I feel like you already know me and you're just listening, watching, and waiting for me to find you. And I am writing to you from 2026 to say, "I am here. Please find me. I thought I removed the "please find me." Okay. Let me continue.

"I believe strongly that nature will do its thing, and you will one day get to read this. The reason I am writing this letter is simple. I have run out of options. I do not know what else to do. For the past eight years, I have been searching for you. Eight years. I have been on more than one hundred and twenty dates with different women. 120. I have tried online dating. Blind dates. Church girls. My friend's sister. My sister's friends. My neighbour. My mother and family members have even recommended different girls to me. I have tried…

Who is calling my phone na? Wait, why is Cordelia calling me? I will call her back jare.

Hi Cordelia.

Hello. Why did you tell my mum I said she said you do not have a future?

Wait! Did you not tell me she said it?

So? Did you have to tell her? Can you not control your big mouth?

It is your mouth that is big. Come, you know I am not your mate right? You told me your mother said something, and I confronted her. What is there?

Na me mess up. I should not have told you. Useless boy.

Is it me you're calling useless?

Is this one okay? See me see trouble oh!

CheckMates, can you imagine? Two years ago, this Cordelia girl could not do anything without disturbing me and coming to my apartment. I did not even find her attractive because I noticed early she had a very big basket mouth. Only for her mother to say she should stop talking to me because I look like someone that has no future ambition or direction. And the useless girl believed her mother and stopped talking to me. Look at my life now, in the space of two years, I became a TV presenter at TVC. Featured in a movie on Netflix, I started a podcast with a fan base of over 150,000 downloads. I bought a car, started a farm, and even started fixing generators and TVs. Who knows, if Mama Chidi had kept her mouth closed, maybe her daughter would currently be dating a TV presenter with a podcast and a car. But she opened it. And now she is downstairs asking me to fix her freezer. Wait, it is the same Cordelia I told I was planning a surprise birthday party for a friend. Twenty minutes later, the celebrant called to ask me if it was true that I was planning a party. All thanks to Cordelia's big mouth. Tell her a secret and she will spread it like free wifi. No password. Full bars. Available to everyone. She has the guts to ask me why I told her mother what she told me. She is not serious. I cannot have someone like that in my life. To my future partner, please don't be like Cordelia. What happens between us stays between us after we get married, because everything that happens to us before our wedding is likely going to end up on my podcast. Okay. Back to the letter. Let's continue from where we stopped.

I have tried everything that makes sense, and nothing has worked. So today I am trying something that does not make sense, hoping this works. I am writing you a letter. My soulmate. So here it goes! To the woman of my dreams, my love, my queen, my wife, my missing rib, my other half, my better half, to the woman I am going to spend the rest of my life with, how are you doing?

Who is disturbing my line again for God's sake? Ehn!

Hello, Who is this?

It's me joor. Cordelia. This is my other line. My other phone is dead, I am charging it.

Cordelia, what is it? What do you want?

Shut up joor. Is it true that Aunty Kofo's boyfriend came to their house this morning and proposed to her?

Yes it is true.

Ahhh! Do not tell anyone oh! Do you know that her boyfriend is married to two separate women? He has one wife in China and another one in Abuja. Aunty Kofo does not know. Men sha!

Cordelia are you mad? What's my business with that information?

You're not okay. Look at someone I am even trying to update. If I hear I tell you anything in my life again. PIG!

CheckMates. You see why I don't like this Cordelia of a lady. A sweet story that started my day, Cordelia has called to ruin it with her big mouth. If Cordelia were my soulmate, I swear I would rather die single. Can you imagine the nonsense? And she still had the guts to say, "Don't tell anyone" as if she is not the one that will tell everybody.

CheckMates, I need some silence. I want to beg for some minutes or maybe an hour max. For me to write this letter from my heart, there have to be no more interruptions. No more Cordelia. No more generators. No more calls or stupid distractions. I am going to take a short break, come back, and read you the full letter from start to finish. No stopping. No crossing out. Just the letter. Stay with me. Let me activate my inner William Shakespeare. The man never had generator problems when he was writing.

CheckMates, I am back. I have finished the letter. It's quite lengthy, but you will love it. Let me read it to you. From the beginning to the end.

"Dear Future Partner,.

Good morning, my baby. As I sit here and write this letter to you, I write with every belief in me, knowing fully well that this does not make sense to the people of this world. Who writes a letter to someone they have not met? Right? But lately I have been feeling different. I feel like you already know me, and you are just listening, watching, and waiting for me to find you. I believe the universe will do its thing, and you will one day get to read this. The reason I am writing is simple. I have run out of options. For the past eight years, I have been searching for you. Eight years. I have been on more than 120 dates. I have tried online dating, blind dates, church girls, my friend's sister, my sister's friends, and my neighbour. My mother has even recommended girls to me. I have tried everything that makes sense, and nothing has worked. So today I am trying something that does not make sense. I am writing you a letter. My soulmate. To the woman of my dreams, my love, my queen, my wife, my missing rib, my better half, how are you doing? I do not know who you are or what you look like, but I know you are beautiful. I know you are pure, divine, and clean. I know your eyes shine bright, and your lips are the most beautiful thing after your character. I know you are not from Edo State, because I can never marry an Edo woman even if they jazz me. If you are Igbo or Yoruba, how pleased will I be? I can already imagine your beautiful first name. And I am very happy that one day, you will bear my last name. I want you to know who I am before you arrive. Not the version of me people see on television. Not the voice from the podcast. Just me. The real me. My name is Edgar Eriakha. I am a 29-year-old guy who knows exactly what he wants and has absolutely no idea how to find it. I am a lover. A desperate lover. Some people describe me as quiet and reserved, but those who really know me know I can be everywhere and mad. I am introverted but I get loud when it matters and quiet when it counts. I do not consider myself funny, but I will make you laugh at the wrong moments and feel something real in the right ones. I am not a perfect person. Not even close. I have flaws I am still working on, habits I am not proud of, and a podcast that has documented my embarrassments for thousands of people to hear. I do not smoke, drink, or do drugs. I am keeping myself for you and you only. Is it not crazy? I almost gave up on the idea of love. I had convinced myself that not every handsome guy finds love and gets married. As some say, marriage is not promised. But I do not believe that anymore. I refuse to. My baby, please come and save me. I have been out here alone for too long. Nigerian women have dealt with me. Physically, spiritually, emotionally, financially, socially, and every other ally you can think of. They have served me breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I wish you had been here. Life would have sucked a lot less with you by my side. The plan was to get married at 25, but Buhari said no. Then it became 28, and Tinubu is trying to make my life miserable. My baby, I want you to know that I have everything figured out. I have picked a date, August 15th, 2026. Yes, this year. I have paid for an amazing venue, bought your dream wedding dress and bridal accessories, booked my pastor, sorted out the wedding planner, caterer, and DJ. The live band will be to your taste and the photographer is a professional from South Africa. I have made arrangements for 100 of your guests and kept money for their transportation. All that is missing is you. You, my bride. You. Now let me tell you what you are getting. No packaging. No filter. I do not lie. So you can trust me completely. I will never lie against you or to you. I will only lie by your side. This means I will never cheat on you or profess feelings to another woman except you. I do not know how to cook everything, but if you want something I cannot make, I have money to buy it. I am big on gifting. Gifts once a month, somewhere special once a quarter. You can have whatever you like. Name it and you have got it. If the thing is bigger than me, it cannot be bigger than my God. I love to talk. Some people say I talk too much and I agree. I make jokes at moments that do not call for jokes, I am working on that. I do voiceover. My voice can go deep and also tiny. When we have kids, I will teach them mathematics and English from birth to SS1. After that, we get a private teacher. Nobody normal understands SS2 Maths. I will sing your praises to everyone who will listen, and even those who will not. My mother, my father, Fela, Nuel, and Lancelot. I will tell Mama Chidi about you. She has been praying for you without knowing your name. I will tell my CheckMates about you. They will not be happy, not because of you, but because the day I get married, this podcast ends. And they know it. But that is okay. You are worth losing the audience. Sometimes I feel things deeply but do not say them immediately. So if I go quiet after an argument, please do not panic. I am not leaving. I am just processing. Give me time. I will come back with everything I was feeling. I promise, my love. I made a killer playlist and titled it 'My Queen.' The moment I know your name, I will change that title to yours. I am a big fan of hip hop and R&B. I hope you like Jhene Aiko and would not mind me jumping up and down when I listen to Drake. I am Team Davido, I hope this does not cause a problem in our mansion. I also hope you do not like songs from Portable and Small Doctor. Because if those are your kind of music, this letter is not for you. We are going to tour the world. Fall asleep in each other's arms. Fly first class, go to the Bahamas, get lost in Greece, enjoy a vacation on an island, just you and me. And here is what I promise you. Properly. I promise to make myself look like an idiot just to be the reason you smile. I promise to do things for you that you never asked for, because I want you to feel how much I love you, not just hear it. I promise to remember your birthday and be the first and last to wish you. I will sing you happy birthday myself. Fair warning, my mother sings for me every year and it is terrible. The voice does not fall far from the tree. But I will sing it anyway, because love is a sacrifice. I promise that when you feel weak, I will be your strength. When you feel afraid, I will give you my hand. When you feel alone, I will be present. Not just physically. Actually present. I promise to be loyal. To communicate. To protect you and our children. And I want children. I want Edgar Junior. I have wanted him for a while. As for how many, that is up to you. If you want one, fine. Three, okay. Eleven, no problem, so far you push them out yourself. Who am I not to do it eleven times? I promise to delete my useless friends if you do not like them. Fela, Nuel, and Lancelot will go if they have to. I do not want nonsense. Whatever you feel, I want to feel it with you. The good days and the ugly ones. I am not signing up for the highlight reel. I am signing up for the whole thing. Your enemies, I do not know who is pursuing you oh, but if they pass me, we will pass them to God. I have never said this to anyone before. But I have prayed for you. Not generally, specifically. I have asked God to protect you wherever you are. To keep you safe until we find each other. To make sure that whatever you are going through right now, you know somewhere deep down that something good is coming. That someone is on his way. My greatest fear is that the day I meet you, I will mess it up. That I will finally find the right person and be the wrong version of myself. That's my past, my depression, my mistakes, my insecurities, and my fears, all the things I have been carrying, will show up at the wrong moment and push you away before you even understand what you are looking at. That is my greatest fear. So if you are reading this, and I believe you will, I want you to know that I am working on myself. Every day. Not to become someone else. But to become the best version of the man you are going to meet. Because you deserve that. And honestly? So do I. Thank you in advance. For loving me regardless of my flaws. For seeing past the noise and finding the real thing underneath. For choosing me on the days when I am hard to choose. I do not know when you will read this. Maybe soon. Maybe you are already close and neither of us knows it. Maybe we have passed each other somewhere, at a bus stop, a restaurant, a church lobby, and neither of us said anything. Maybe you are reading this years from now, sitting beside me, laughing at the man I used to be before you arrived. Either way, I was thinking of you before I knew you. I was making space for you before you arrived. And I will keep doing that until you get here. The wedding date was not a joke. See you at the altar on August 15th. Sincerely, Your future husband, Edgar."

That is the letter, CheckMates. That is it.

I do not know if she heard it. But I said it. Out loud. In front of all of you. And I meant every single word. I am going to take this letter, fold it carefully, put it in an envelope, seal it, and send it to the universe. And then…

Cordelia again.

Hello, Cordelia what is it?

Edgar! Did you tell Aunty Kofo what I said about her husband?

Cordelia, I have a podcast.

So?

I just finished recording.

...did you or did you not?

I did not.

Edgar! Edgar! Edgar!

I want to be very clear, I did not tell anyone anything. I only took a break to write my letter. She is only panicking for nothing. I guess someone else is going to be writing a long letter explaining to Aunty Kofo how she knew that her husband had two other wives.

To my future partner…I hope you one day read this letter. Until then, I am here and Edgar doesn't lie. And that's the end of this week's episode. I hope you enjoyed it. If you did, then don't forget to subscribe, and share this podcast with those who are single, dating, or married. Rate the podcast and drop a comment. And yes, you can donate to support the podcast. 3 dollars will go a long way.

If you have a story to share then please send it to me through my email address edgar@checkedgar.com or for a quicker response chat with me on WhatsApp with the chatbox on my website www.checkedgar.com, I will respond in 3 hours, I promise. Edgar doesn't lie!

TGIF 4 is coming in two weeks. Send me your voice, your story, your letter. SpeakPipe or Google Drive link in the show notes. Keep it under two to three minutes. Send ideas to edgar@checkedgar.com.