Not a very bright morning for parts of Lagos as heavy wind destroys millions of Naira worth of properties in Yaba, Obalende and several other places….I sound like a newscaster yea? looool
Its actually that bad, I pray and hope no one lost their lives in the destruction toll. Some things to be excited about as I cheered Zambia to their AFCON Final win over Ivory Coast. Atleast now we all know Juju pass juju.
To some of us, it will be quite clear that whatever is happening to Torres at Chelsea is not ordinary, and the Grammy Awards, i dont understand Nicki Minaj’s outfit. If it was Lady GaGa wearing that, i would understand but you girl ?!?!
Anyway, moving on, have got another guest blogger here, goes by the name @Aee_FX, Enjoy her story and leave your comments.
Her blog address is thatisinshort.blogspot.com
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“I had to meet you here todayyy…there’s just so many things to saaaay…Please don’t stop me till I’m throuuugh…” I stammered through my sentence with a bit of sadness in my voice
If this moment could’ve had a sound track, it would’ve been Barry White’s “Let’s just kiss and say goodbye.”
Well, the damn song was my cognitive itch for the day as it was still playing in my head while IB toyed with my ring finger…visibly worried…I pulled my hand away…I tried to pull my hand away but he held fast.
“C’mon, what did you want to say to me? We’ve been here for almost an hour and you still haven’t told me why you summoned me…what’s up luvvie?”
I couldn’t look up at him. Tears had taken permanent residence in my heart all week and now they were opening shop under my eyelids.
“Egooooooooo” he sighed.
I had no idea where to start…
Well, what I had to say was……
I had no idea how I wanted to say it and had no idea how the discussion would end. After what seemed like eons, I said:
“You know we have to stop seeing each other.”
Sheeks!
There I finally said it.
His eyes fell and his long fingers tightened around mine. We’d had this discussion about six times already,all of the time at my place or his and we ended up “back at One” after each “break up talk session”
He sighed wistfully.
“I know.” he said. “Oh God. I know..”
I looked up and let the tears fall freely, I was tired. Tired of holding them back, tired of the way things were, tired from lack of sleep. Tired from knowing I had to break up with this man with whom I was in love, tired of not being able to grasp happiness with this man who was already bound to another.
Yeah.
IB was married and No I didn’t know he was married when I met him. I didn’t know until it was apparent to both of us that something had happened and we had to do something about it fast, that was when he told me.
The wife was abroad, Half German-half Onitsha girl. He’d met her while he was studying for his Masters in the United States and she had been so in love with the idea of “going back home” wanted to practice her igbo and what not. Sadly, she couldn’t hold on. She had decided she couldn’t stand Nigeria so she moved back to the USA after what she had described as “3 trying months”, said she was never coming back.
Top/Middle/Bottom line: He was married.
Hmmmmm.
Not in the cards. I had thought then. Lord. Not in the cards. I was supposed to fall in love with a SINGLE man, get married, have children…
Dear God…
I rationalized. I fought myself. I cried. I asked the Lord why?? Why did I have to find love with someone who belonged to another?
I said to myself: You Will not. You absolutely can not fall for a married man.
Nah.
I absolutely did. Hook. Line. Sinker. Fisherman.
I wish I could say it was the sex, we never had sex. That was what made it so pure. He would kiss my Cheeks. Palms. Fingers. Forehead. Never my lips.
He’d pick me up from school when I had late lectures. He’d hold my hands when I had bad cramps.
He was a good man.
A week before the summons, I had complained of cramps in my ankle. He had, in a moment of madness, kissed my foot after massaging it.
Flustered, vulnerable and literally on the verge of telling him to “Take Me”, I asked him to leave, for both our sakes. At that point, I knew we had to stop it. Whatever it was.
Unfortunately, I had already applied to stay back in Yola to do my internship .
I babbled on: “I’ll go to lagos, I’ll be out of your hair for six months. I’ll understand if you don’t call me. I wish things were different, IB. This is reality querido. Your wife exists. We can’t pretend she doesn’t. Its so strange…We aren’t sleeping with each other but…”
“…we’ve done much more than that… I know.” He interjected drawing circles in my palm “I know…we’ve bonded at realms beyond sex.”
“Exactly querido…” I stopped. ” I really should practice not calling you that…” I said as I succeeded in extricating my hands from his.
“Yeah…I knew this day would come. I prayed for a miracle.” sighing that oh-so-painful wistful sigh. “You don’t have to go to Lagos. I’ll stay away.” he said.
“No. I’ll go.”
“Can I at least help you pack? Can I take you to the bus park…please..?” This was classic IB.
“Yes.” I knew i’d lose the battle if i tried to stop him.
Lagos didn’t work eventually. I lost two months. I ended up doing just 4 months. In Yola. He was there through it. We stuck to the plan. I buried myself in work. He stayed away. Bless him.
What we had lasted all of 8 months. This was my fourth year in University. Its been 6 years since the summons. I used to wonder: “What if I’d taken what I could at the time?”
In retrospect, I’m glad.
We are great friends. He’s moved back to America. He’s divorced from Iris. He met another girl. I hope he finds love. He totally deserves to.
As for IB and I, we’re content with our very frequent phone conversation, BBM chats and gtalk moments. We sometimes ruminate on what could have been but I’m glad we have what we have now.
I’m glad I can now tell this story.
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