"Love is as much of an object as an obsession, everybody wants it everybody seeks it, but few ever achieve it, those who do, will cherish it, be lost in it, and among all, will never...never forget it." Anonymous
Once upon a not so long time ago, I fell head over heels in love with a married man. It all happened so suddenly, not the love at first sight kind of sudden, but very unexpectedly. I'd known the guy for a few weeks and really had nothing to say to him except important stuff because he was my cousins' friend and worked in the same bank as she did. Since my cousin lived far away in Katsina, he was sort of like a go between for money and property between both of us (my cousin and I).
All that changed when he gave me a lift and I got a glimpse of him as a person. I found out he was intelligent, cute in a Fulani-ish sort of way ( you cant blame me, I spent the better part of my life in northern Nigeria), he was soft spoken and there was that something I couldn't place a finger on that I found so attractive about him.
I stuffed my feelings, avoided him consciously, and did my best to brush the crush aside. All my resolutions were shaken when, one day, out of the blue, he called to say "hi". You know, the kind of hi that lasts for thirty minutes. The call ended with him telling me to come over because he just wanted to see me. He'd been trying to get my cousin to send something across so he'd have an excuse to have me come by. I on the other hand was seriously avoiding him, and had been getting my messages across via other means.
I did go for the visit, had a lovely time, and thereafter began visiting him every week. He also called twice a day and we'd talk for hours. In a month, the friendship had grown so much that I knew almost everything about him and I began to resent his wife.
She just had a kid and he was the perfect husband and father (if you could ignore my presence) I began to resent his wife so much that I hated to hear him talk about her. I loved his son, and his son loved me. After all, I consoled myself, he was supposed to have been my child. It all seems silly now, but I had a boyfriend whom I cant say I didn't love even when the obsession was going on, but who somehow, I'd blotted out. Maybe that was because the object of my affection knew I had a boyfriend and even knew a lot about him from our daily gist.
It all came to a head when he quietly told me he loved me "and just wanted me to know". Pardon my sarcasm but even though I'm a romantic at heart, I do know a booty call when I hear/see one coming. I knew he would never leave his wife for me - even if he did it'd be a long wait and my biological clock was ticking. On the other hand, believe it or not, I still felt some loyalty to my bobo. I'd have to call it off with him before I'd let myself move on. The thing was, a married man was not a good enough reason for me to end a five year relationship.
Well, I wrestled with myself for weeks, and tried to cut him off. It was as if he was doing the same thing, cos the calls all stopped coming. My heart bled and I cried inside for a love that I had lost even though I never had. One Sunday, as I sat at home in misery, he called me. My heart sang. My heart sang louder because he was obviously miserable as well, told me he tried but couldn't let go, and was calling from his home with his wife around (call me crazy, but we had a standing rule that we never talked when he was at home, to me at the time, this act to me, was proof that he respected me more than he did his wife). I was elated, I threw aside my sack cloth and decided to go on with the affair, booty call or not.
I decided I was going to enjoy his company, let the love blossom, and enjoy life, no strings attached. We resumed our affair, and waited for any opportunity to consummate it. The opportunity came when he had a seminar to attend in Abuja. I lived at home with my parents and would just have to think of a convincing lie. I told everyone I was going for a wedding. The seminar was for daytime anyway, and so, I'd leave on Saturday morning. I'd even have time to prepare myself.
I dreamed of our first night together, we'd have a romantic dinner, see the sights of Abuja, and generally hang out. Reality set in, and it occured to me that we'd have to hide out - that kind hope no one saw you coming kind of thing - because his colleagues were there, and he was newly wed and they'd still be on his wife's side.
On the D - day, my heart filled with love, I thought about what I was doing and well, decided to stay at home. I wanted him to love and respect me, if anyone had to hide and be the whore, it shouldn't be me. Also, I was soooo naive at the time and did not understand the therapeutic angle of flings. Lastly, I wanted him to fight for me, like kill his wife or something, so that we could be together.
Well, I really cut him off that day, I told him I wasn't interested, and worked him out of my system, tried to get closer to my boyfriend and let it all go down the drain.
I still think about him every now and then, we assumed a platonic friendship a year later. A week to my wedding, he told me he was happy for me, and still loved me. I was glad to read the words and gladder still that things went the way they had. But I still wonder about what could have been, and bask in the sweetness of unattested love.
