We sat together one midnight, reading together. We were in the same department in the faculty of engineering, but he was a year ahead of me. He was tall, light, and handsome. I felt he was one of the finest guys I had ever laid eyes on, I don’t know if he felt the same way about me, cos I was a cute petite girl, with very tomboyish attitude.
We hit it off immediately. He showed interest in me, and I in turn, flashed a very bright green light to him. Before you knew it, we were an item. My mum found out I was in a relationship, she was not happy because he was not Yoruba. She needn’t have bothered her head, the relationship wasn’t going to last anyway.
I started getting tired of him. He loved me too much. He was too in to me. He was too crazy about me. He wished he could hang out with me every day, every second. It irritated me, annoyed me, drove me nuts. I began to pull away, become distant, but tried to cover it up. I didn’t want to break his heart. One midnight reading session, I lied that I wasn’t in the department reading. His roommate saw me, and told me my ex was somewhere around. He was surprised not to see us reading together. I begged his roommate not to tell him he saw me. His roommate told him.
He confronted me. I tried to give him a flimsy excuse, he wasn’t buying it. He knew I wasn’t that much into him anymore. He didn’t know why. I didn’t know why. I mean he was a fine boy. What else could a girl want in uni? Some days later, after a couple of back and forth, he broke up with me. He said he wasn’t interested anymore, he didn’t like me anymore, he had started liking someone else. It was finally over. It lasted just three months. I was sad, I tried to weave the whole thing to look like his fault, but it was my fault. I think I was sadder that he was the one who broke up with me, rather than the fact that the relationship had ended. Whenever anyone asked, I told them he was the one who broke up with me. I played the victim.
We went on holidays. He started missing me, he called once or twice. When we resumed, he asked me out again, and said we should start afresh. I had gotten over him and the break up, so I turned him down. I went home that day, called him up, and gave him a tongue-lashing of his life. How dare he break up with me, put me through all the torment, and then turn around to come back? My position as the victim was finally cemented.
We were just on a ‘hi’ level. When my dad died, he commiserated with me. I knew when he got his first job, and eventually left the country for his masters. We kept in touch from time to time, via email. A few years later, I promised to let him know the next time I was in the UK.
I went to the UK when I was going through a rough patch, and told him I was around. His reply was kinda cold, saying he was in India or so. I got back to Nigeria, and he kept in touch. Few months later, I was back there. We hooked up. He was extremely proud of me, and what I had achieved. I was proud of him and what he had achieved. He was almost done with his PhD, at such a young age. I asked him if he told his girlfriend he was meeting me, to which he affirmed. He took me to a nice Japanese restaurant. I told him about my most recent ex, and what his family put me through. He scolded me for wanting to marry into such a family in the first place. It was a great time with him, and I promised him a nice time whenever he comes to Nigeria.
A year later, he came to Nigeria to apply for a visa to Germany for a job interview. He was such a high flyer. He called me up on my promise. After several clashes in time schedule, we finally fixed the date he was supposed to leave the country. I took him out. He told me of how he proposed to his girlfriend. I took him to the airport, stayed with him till he went through the security check point. His girlfriend called. This time, I didn’t bother asking him if she knew I was with him. Of course, she didn’t know. She would most likely not approve that he hooked up with me in Nigeria. That was the last time I saw him.
The next time he was in Nigeria, it was for his wedding. He invited me… as a friend… all the way to Port Harcourt. Of course, I didn’t go. Even if it were in Lagos, I wouldn’t go. To do what? Who do I know there? He’s the only one I know. I was happy for him. I congratulated him.
My ex and I are really cool friends.
But I knew it was time to end the friendship.