Back then every young teenage Nigerian boy spent the majority of his time on Facebook before we all decided to occupy the streets of Twitter. But I’m unsure if Facebook was my curse or blessing. You decide.
It was on the Zuckerberg app I saw her for the first time. If her looks could speak, it would have warned this mesmerized teenage boy to guard his heart because he was venturing into uncharted territories.
Her name is Nkiruka and from her unretouched Facebook pictures, she was reminiscent of a goddess. To borrow the current ubiquitous term on social media, I was willing to ‘shoot my shot’. I spent days preparing myself mentally while rehearsing faux conversations, and snacking on my fingernails anxiously.
“Hello, I’m Chinedu. I’ll like to know you, if you don’t mind” I typed, sliding into her DM.
Honestly, this was the best I could come up with. I shunted between this and two others: “Good day, I’m Chinedu and I saw your name pop up on my timeline and I kind of like you and would really like to know you” and “Hello, how you are doing?” The former seemed like a choked word-salad while the latter was sparsely worded. However, my final choice was perfect for my naive senses.
To my surprise, she responded pleasantly, though, after five (emotionally excruciating) days later. That was the beginning of a friendship I hoped would evolve into love and marriage, ultimately. (Yes, I was seventeen, but, after our first exchange of pleasantries, I had already made future plans for Nkiru and I and even picked out baby names. I think I was obsessed.)
I didn’t shy away from expressing my feelings to her as often as I could, but every time, I was met with an implacable wall shielding her emotions.”Chinedu, I love you, but only as a friend”, she would sternly say. Unlike most guys, I was unfazed by the dreaded friend zone because I was determined to migrate into a better one.
You see, Nkiru was the first girl I ever loved and I had made a pact with my morally unstable friend, Joseph, to marry the first girl I fall in love with when I turn 26 (I’m 29 years old now. Safe to say life had other plans for me). Because that was my mission, I allowed myself to be wrapped around her fingers.
Six years passed and I halted the potential growth of my love life for her. I was in partial relationships because the other chunk of me still belonged to her, even though she made it clear that she never wanted me. Eight years into our friendship, in between our barely-there communication, I thought she began to come around; her emotional responses seemed different.
I was 25 years old and financially stable while she had just finished her NYSC. We hadn’t seen for over a year, and I was eager to welcome her back. I took her everywhere with me; we went on dinner dates, I took her shopping, to the movies, to the beach… As a creative, she became my muse. Everything was falling into place, I ended my two-year, loveless relationship with my girlfriend because and I strongly believed that the universe had responded to my need to marry Nkiru when I turn 26, but…
It was on the 26th of July in 2016, ten months after she returned. I was having lunch with a close friend, Timothy, at a highbrow restaurant in Lagos when I invited her over to be introduced to him. But, that marked the day my coveted lover become my worst enemy. Nkiru and Timothy hit it off instantly, to my surprise. I became a third wheel ‘ghost’ to these two and to my annoyance; I could feel the chemistry they shared. The lady who had refused my advances for over 10 years was letting her guard down for this total stranger.
I threatened Timothy and I tried to get closer to Nkiru, but nothing could keep these two apart. The last I heard about them, they are married with a two-year-old daughter, while I’m unmarried without a girlfriend.
I want to regret ever seeing her, but who am I kidding; I know I was a fool to have stayed in love for so long, especially when all my amorous advances kept falling through. This has taught me an indelible lesson: love happens freely, never force it into existence.