I was in senior high school when my friends made me aware that I wasn’t good-looking. I didn’t think of good looks until at that stage when they made fun of my looks and told me no guy wants me because of my looks. Even my best friend seemed to agree with them. She will tell me, “If you wore your dress like this, don’t you think guys would approach you? Maybe you should have this haircut or style your hair this way, then guys will see you and approach you.” She was doing it out of good intention but no matter how hard she tried, she only pushed me into the realization that indeed I was ugly.

I started reflecting on my junior high school days. I didn’t have a boyfriend. I thought I was being a good girl. I always said to myself, “If a guy walked up to me and proposed to me, I will shame him.” When no guy was coming my way, I felt they knew what I would do to them that was why they were not coming. So when I was in senior high and my attention was brought to my unfavorable looks, I told myself, “Now I know. It’s the reason no guy approached me while I was in Junior high.”

I played strong. When they laughed at me, I laughed with them so they know it didn’t hurt me but when I was alone, I cried. At night when everyone was sleeping, I would stay in my net and cry. They’ll return from entertainment and talk about their escapades with their boyfriends. Everyone had something to say except me. So I became a loner. While they were out there chilling, I was out there reading my notes or reading storybooks. I read every romantic book I could lay my hands on. I would choose one of the characters and fall in love with him. Mostly, I chose the characters no other character wanted to be with. I felt connected with them. I knew how it felt to be like them. The only difference was, theirs was fiction and mine was the real deal.

Through romantic stories, I had my first hug that led to a kiss. I went to sleep and even dreamt about the characters I fell in love with. I could feel them. I could touch them. I completed school without a boyfriend and that confirmed the theory that indeed I was not good-looking. When our results came, I did extremely well so going to the university wasn’t an issue for me. I went to school the very first day with confidence the size of the mustard seed. If a guy looked at me twice, I wanted to disappear. The voice in my head would kick in, “He looked at you twice because he couldn’t believe a woman can look like this. He looked at me the second time to confirm his first impression about me.”

Again, I buried my head in my books. I envied women who had it all—beauty, grace, poise, and confidence. I wanted to be like them. While people were praising me for being a “shark,” all I wanted to be was beautiful so guys would at least look at me and find me worthy. First-year, I didn’t have a boyfriend. We moved. Second-year, I didn’t have a boyfriend. God was all I had. Third-year I didn’t have a boyfriend. I was hiding. I wanted to disappear. 

One day, I looked at my parent’s wedding photos on our wall. I looked at my dad critically and longer than I’d ever looked at him. I told myself, “I don’t blame you, dad. It’s my mother’s taste in men that I blame. How could a beautiful woman like her choose to be with you? Now, look at the results. Your only daughter is suffering because your genes knocked me out. How can a woman look so much like her father?  What were my mother’s genes doing?” There was nothing I could do other than rant and move on with my life.

Fourth-year first semester, I met a guy. He came to sit next to me at the library and saw me reading a romantic novel. He was consistently stretching his neck to see what I was reading. He whispered, “Are you a student here?” I said, “Yeah.” He asked, “Level?” I said, “Four hundred.” “And you’re reading a romantic book at the library in an exam week?” I smiled. I said, “I’m releasing tension.” He said, “Maybe your lecturers are kind with marks.”

I met him again the next time at the library. He asked, “Novel again?” I said, “Today is serious learning.” Two weeks later, he proposed to me. I was so shocked I didn’t know what to say. I said, “What did you see in me?” He said, “I love your seriousness and the fact that you’ll rather be with your books than with people. I’m just like you.” I didn’t want to spoil my first-ever proposal. I wanted to go about it the way my favorite characters went about theirs. I wanted drama but I remembered my looks and the voice in my head said, “Play hard to get and lose, I’m here looking at you.” So that very day I accepted his proposal. 

He was a third-year student but looked very mature. The guy loved me until I gave myself to him to break me. Then he started abusing me—emotionally, verbally, and physically sometimes. He was all I had and the only man who had said he loved me so no matter how he treated me, I kept going back to him. When I was doing my national service, he was still in school. When my ‘allawa’ comes, I’ll shop, visit his hostel and deliver it to him. He won’t even say thank you. He’ll collect them and ask when the next will come. I was always hungry because of him. He took my money as loans and never paid back. After national service, I decided to cut him off and live my life. 

I will cut him off and he’ll come again and I will accept him. About seven times, he walked back into my life and treated me the same way he did. Finally, when my spirit got fed up, I ran away from him. I didn’t pick his calls and didn’t answer anything from him. His final message was, “You’ll never meet another guy like me. Whose son will bring himself low to love you?” I cried saaaa till all my tears got wasted.

True to his words, I never had a guy proposed to me for close to six years. I had friends who were guys. They liked me just enough to be friends with me and nothing else. I had a good job and had a very healthy lifestyle but I wasn’t happy most times because in the evening when I needed someone to share my moments with, there was no one there. After work, my phone never rang. one day I looked at it and said, “Hey, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for bringing you into all this mess where nobody makes you ring. I know you have regrets but forgive me.”

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I was thirty-two and had given up on love when one day Albert approached me. He asked me out twice and I said no. One day he met me and started throwing missiles. He said, “Smile. It brightens your face. Why are you always serious like that? Take it easy. Do you even know how to have fun? You’re always walking faster. You greet nasally and pass. You don’t even look at people. Loosen up small. We all will die one day.” Another time too, he came at me with those same lines. I asked him, “Are you trying to get me angry?” He said, “I’m trying to tell you the truth while working my way into your life?” I asked, “My life? How?” He said, “A date first and you’ll understand.” 

I wasn’t comfortable with going out with him so I invited him over to my place and that guy was fun. He was all over the place trying his best to make me have a good time in my own place. It felt like I was rather the visitor. A little over a month later, the two of us were dating. I dated him half-scared for about six months because I didn’t know what to expect. When the relationship was nearing a year, I told myself, “F**k it, if I die I die.” I gave it my all and even spent the three weeks lockdown at his place.

I couldn’t believe it when he said we should get married. I thought it was a dream or I was in one of my favorite books talking to a favorite character. But guess what, Saturday 28th August is my wedding day. I’m hitting 34 years very soon but age and looks couldn’t stop the flow of love between us. It’s never too late for anyone. You don’t look so bad to be loved. It’s the right time that hasn’t come. Just give it some time. The stars will align in your favor and soon, your heart’s desire would be fulfilled. 

–Justina   

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