It's a bit past six in the evening and it's that time of the year when people make plans for end-of-year holidays. My girlfriend and I are here for dinner at the Chicken Licken outlet in Arcadia. Uppermost on my mind is to explain that things aren't as rosy as I expect. I'd have to leave the office earlier than usual to meet up with her.

"Abdul, it's better you take me to Cape Town this year or I'll follow my friends to Mafikeng."

"Mafikeng?" My face distorts. "You want to leave me here in Pretoria?"

"What's wrong with that?" She pushes the burger plate away and lifts up from the chair.

"So you want me to spend the festive period alone? Never!"

I stroke my chin, trying to digest Lerato's words. But the attendant who served us returns to ask if we need his attention.

"No," Lerato replies. "We're fine." Her curt reply underlines her mood. My woman is visibly upset with me.

Having promised to take her to a coastal city for holiday, she can't wait to hear the departure date. We could have made the trip last year December, but limited funds on my part didn't allow. So, I'm hoping we'll make the trip this year unfailingly.

We've been together for four years and she's one lady I don't toy with. Pretty, domesticated and supportive, ladies like my woman are hard to find these days. When doubts hit me, I set her up to check if she'll date someone else, but dear Lerato always passes my test of loyalty. Despite being a college student who often needs funds, she remains committed and I appreciate that. That's why it hurts when she demands something I can't provide.

Lerato has a round face that holds half-orange cheekbones and a fleshy chin. Her neatly plucked eyebrows arching over her eyes prompts the idea a robot carved them. When she looks at me, her hypnotic eyes dig deep within as if seeing the flow of my thoughts. Indeed, I'm lucky to have this lady who brings peace to my life. I have nowhere else to look in terms of searching for a future partner. Lerato is my final bus stop and I'm proud to say so.

So, telling me she wants to hang out with some people in Mafikeng bring me nausea. What if those so-called friends arrange a male partner for her and my woman meets someone better than me? Or some village folks find her attractive and steals her away? I'm not ready to lose Lerato, neither do I want to share her with someone else.

Sometimes I wish Home Affairs will release my work-permit so I can get a proper job. This asylum thing isn't giving me the kind of status I wish for. As a BSc holder, I should be well paid at work and even be driving my own car by now. But all I get by month end is six-thousand rand.

Salary raise matter is the reason I watch political news on TV. Perhaps, the government will up the minimum wage very soon as promised. Struggling kwerekwere like me will benefit immensely from such a decision.

With a fatter salary, pleasing Lerato shouldn't be a hassle. Annual holiday trips like this won't be put off. And, of course, I can then take the bold step of proposing marriage. But at the moment, things are too tough to think of living with a partner, let alone the serious business of raising kids.

What excuse will I give her this time, if I don't have enough cash in December?

"Look, the ruling party's elective conference will hold next month and everyone will be busy. Can we postpone this vacation until next year, 2018, when there won't be any political disturbance?"

"Next year again? Are you serious with me at all?" She hits the table, staring at me with widened eyes. "Abdul, why are you like this? How does the ANC conference affect you? Are you a South African? For God's sake, you don't even have work-permit."

"Calm down, babe. Don't take it too far." My hands stretch out as her lips shut temporarily.

"The elective conference is where economic policies are made. It affects everyone."

"What does it have to do with going for a holiday?" Her neck extends. "If you can't make it, let's cancel this idea." She claps and purses her lips.

My face turns downwards, realising she doesn't buy my excuse. People seating on tables nearby are by now eyeing us, but Lerato is too upset to care.

"Every year, there's always an excuse. Last year December, you said the value of rand has gone down. This year you're already complaining about the ANC conference. I don't know how that is your business when you are not a politician."

Lerato doesn't express anger often, so seeing her looking surly gives me concern. I pull her hands towards me while wearing a disarming smile. "Lerato Potato!"

Her eyes flicker with apparent disdain as her face changes direction.

"Sweetie, don't give me that kind of attitude. You're the only one that tickles my liver. After you, it is you. No one else gives me joy in this country. I can't put off the holiday if things were okay. I should—"

"Please! please!!" She frees her hands from my grip as her wig shakes vigorously. "Don't sweet talk me. If you don't come up with a plan this December, I'm going with my friends straight away. This is still November 17. You have a whole month to make up your mind."

She gestures as if willing to walk away, alerting me that the issue has gone beyond ordinary. But how can this lady be so keen on a beachside holiday? She wasn't this aggressive and threatening last year when I called it off.

Considering her request, lodging in hotels during festivities don't come cheap, going by stories peddled around. But if that will keep my lady glued to me, I need to reconsider my stance. Besides, the prospect of spending the festive period alone in Pretoria looks daunting. Last year, we had a good time from mid-December 'til early January. Maybe I should try harder to make her see reason.

"Babe, remember this holiday trip will take about a hundred and twenty percent of my income."

"There he goes again – always calculating percentages and interest rates and coefficients. You understand economics more than the Reserve Bank governor." She cast me a funny look from the corner of her eyes. The resounding hiss that follows lasts ten seconds.

"Okay, let's take it slow, babe, we're not quarrelling. Just two weeks ago, I gave you a thousand rand to fix your hair. You could have told me to save the money because of the coming—"

Her hand slams on the table as her neck extends forward. "Styling my hair is a different matter from end-of-year vacation. The two don't mix."

"They both take money away from the pocket, mos. You're the one who wanted Brazilian hair. Left to me, I enjoy your Shoshanguve cornrows or even low-cut."

"I should do cornrows and look strange among my friends, uh? But why are you like this? These are simple things other men do for their ladies, even men from your country. In your case, you build castles in the air with your mouth. You're the greediest Nigerian around."

Her defiant carriage indicates she won't back down any time soon. Comparing me to other men don't sit well with me at all. That's where I draw the line.

"Okay, we'll go." I concede, watching her reaction.

Lerato's creases dissolve in seconds as her face takes up a brighter hue. She even let out a chuckle. But before she goes haywire with joy, I have to re-evaluate her choice of Cape Town. That place seems on another continent and going there by air will cost almost half of my salary. And that excludes the costs of hotel lodging or entertainment. I toss Cape Town aside; I'll visit it on Google Maps.

"Cape Town is too far. Apart from that, it will take forever to get there by road."

Lerato's previous aggressive stance takes a back seat as a new tender voice comes forth – the one I'm familiar with. "It doesn't have to be Cape Town, really. We can try any other coastal city." She smiles. "I just want to catch fun after studying so hard for the whole year. My classmates don't have to narrate their stories to me again like they did last year."

"Oh, okay."

I pick up my Android phone to view the map of South Africa and check other options available: Durban, Port Elizabeth, East London and so on. No idea which of them will be less expensive.

For me, it will be my first time out of Tshwane; so I should be cautious where to visit, especially as issues of crime and xenophobia come up often on TV and in the newspapers. Again, with my woman by my side, my caution should be extra.

To seek opinions from well-travelled friends, I dial Bolaji for insights. He should be useful in the matter at hand.

"Hey man, how you dey? Can you please advise: which city on the coast can I take my babe to? Lerato and I want somewhere nice."

Without flinching, the lad blurts: "Go to Durban and enjoy the sea. It's amazing there. The warm weather will blow you away."

His words remind me of the oft-repeated radio jingos about holidays in Durban. Even in newspapers, hotels in Durban always get a large share of the adverts. I don't need much convincing to settle for that city.

"He says Durban is our best bet. What do you think?" I ask Lerato while punching into my phone to set a calendar date.

"I don't mind Durban. It will be my first time." She lifts off from her chair and crosses over. Lerato's long seen whitish dentition brightens my phone as she peeps into it. To finally douse the quarrel, she draws her burger closer and begins to chew. I join my sweetheart right away and she offers to put the chicken in my mouth while flashing those joyful smiles that gets me reeling in passion.

"Now you are happy, neh?"

"You can say that again. I can't wait to be by the seaside with you."

"Likewise, babes. Durban, here we come."

After having our fill, we agree to be there from the 20th 'til the 27th of December. Even if I'll dig deep into my bank account to make the trip a reality, so long my woman is pleased, I don't mind.