I noticed him because he was kind to me once. At that point in my life, all I needed was kindness, no matter who it was coming from. When he came close, I smelled his perfume and I remember thinking to myself, “I don’t like his fragrance. He smells like the devil.”

The devil is my ex and his name is Fifii. The only guy who took me through the gutters for two years but still didn’t see the need to leave him. I stayed because I was scared I wouldn’t find another man like him. He was doing me a favour by loving me. If I let him go, I would be miserable. So for two years, he committed all the sins the devil would be scared to commit. He was everything a good man wasn’t but I stayed until he finally discarded me like a used tissue. I was bloodied and on the floor, but he left me to die. He moved on as if I was nothing.

He was the reason I decided not to fall in love again. His love maimed me. It took all the confidence in me and replaced it with fear and uncertainty. I was scared to meet a man. Even when my pastor asked me to see him for counselling, I concluded he’d treat me like Fiifi did. I didn’t go though I needed all the help his counselling could give.

But this man appeared from nowhere with kindness and yet smelled like the devil himself. When he asked for my number, I gave it to him but I asked myself, “Who will pick up the phone when he calls?” He didn’t give me his number so the first time he called, I picked up the phone. “Bright here. I took your number days ago, remember? The guy in a white shirt and blue trousers.”

We talked. I got to know where he lived—just a stone throw from my place. I got to know he was a doctor—a young doctor who had practised for less than a year. What else did I get to know? Errrrm, yes. I got to know he wanted to be a friend. I said yes to friendship while hoping he’d change his perfume. He was a doctor so I felt he wouldn’t get the time to be talking to me all the time. I felt safe.

He called every morning asking if I slept well. In the afternoon, he called to ask how my day was going. In the evening, we would text until late in the night. One day, I told him about the condition of my heart thinking he’d have a drug for me—a drug that would numb the pain and turn my heart into a stone so I wouldn’t love again. He laughed at me. He said, “It’s a young heart. It has many roads to travel and many waters to navigate. Don’t kill it just yet.”

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“We live across from each other so why are we living life like a million miles exist between us?” He asked me. I shrugged my shoulders before typing, “We are two busy people. You can’t blame us.”

He came home the next day. He still smelled like the devil. I told him about his fragrance and we both laughed about it. “I’m a devil by scent and not by character,” he told me. I responded, “Both are the same. You can’t smell like the devil and be good. You can’t win.”

It was just a silly joke to make us laugh but guess what, he changed his perfume. He brought the can to me and asked me to smell it. “Is this better? Does it help you to forget the devil in my shirt?” We laughed about it but I felt heard. Seen. Understood. I gave him an A scorecard for understanding me.

For weeks we were just friends. I cooked and he came to eat. He took me out on weekends. One night we went out and ended up at his place. We were both burning with desire. It had been two years since I experienced such a desire. He hadn’t proposed to me but I allowed myself to go all the way with him. It was great. A worthy sin I must say. In the morning when the sunlight tapped on my thighs to wake me up, I asked myself, “What have I gotten myself into? Why did I allow this to happen? Do I ever learn?”

Out of guilt and shame, I started dressing up. He held me from behind and said, “We need to talk.” I asked when and he said, “When you’re ready.”  I responded, “Then let’s talk this evening. I have a lot of things to do and it’s already morning.” He sighed while I preen myself, getting ready to leave.

He didn’t text the whole day. He didn’t call the whole day. My phone was on my chest all day, waiting for him to call or text like he used to. But that day, he didn’t text or call. Late in the night, when I was going to sleep, I texted, “Are you OK? Haven’t heard from you all day.” He texted back when I was asleep, telling me how busy his schedules were. I saw the text in the morning and said nothing. Again he didn’t call or text that day.

I got the message. It’s sex he wanted. He had gotten it. Why sweat? I hit myself in the head and started crying, “You never learn, you this girl. You called him a devil and still fell for his trick. You deserve whatever you go through.” I cried but even at the center of my tears, I still had hope that Bright would come through for me. He never did. Days passed by slowly. Weeks silently walked by without saying hello. And then a month. I accepted my folly. I’ve been fooled by desire and ought to pay the price.

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One early morning, I heard a knock on my door. I opened and saw him in his joggers, sweating and panting; “I was jogging around here and decided to check up on you. Why don’t you join me, the sun isn’t up yet.

I looked sternly into his eyes and said, “Thanks for passing by. Can I go back to sleep now?” I was shutting my door when he held the knob. “Please don’t go. I understand I’ve been evil. You don’t have to forgive me but can you at least listen to me?” It was no longer an invite to jog. He wanted to talk. I said bye-bye to him and shut my door.

In my next life, I’ll ask God to create me a woman but plead with him to give me the audacity of men, audacity in all the colours and shades. I find it impressive. Men will do you wrong and disappear only to reappear and pretend everything is alright. God is not fair. Why give all this audacity to one gender?

I shut the door but couldn’t shut him out of my life forever.

He closes from work and finds his way to my place. He knocks in the morning and knocks at night. I listened to him one day. All he brought were an apology and a plea for a second chance. “There was no first chance so how can there be a second? We were not a thing. Sex happened and you moved. You don’t owe me anything.”

The way Bright is begging me, if Fiifi comes today and does half of what this man is doing, I probably might fall for it. I’ve never had a man lie on the floor and ask me to walk on him like Bright is doing.

He said he was going through a lot. The day after sex, a patient he was handling died. The following day, a child he was handling also died. His emotions were all over the place but he’s sorry for abandoning me. I said, “Classical! How classical! Everything falls apart in the lives of men right after sex. I bet if that sex didn’t happen, those patients wouldn’t have died and he would still be with me the following day.

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Well, I’ve run out of chances to give. The ones I gave Fiifi was like cocking a gun and giving it to him to shoot me. He didn’t fail. He shot me at any given chance but because I didn’t die, I kept loading his gun and he used me for target training. Not this time. He who will stay will stay. Those who won’t give a sign. It’s up to us to believe the signs before we start seeing wonders.

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—Athena

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