I liked him the very first time I set my eyes on him. Love at first sight existed in my world because of him, but I didn’t know how he felt about me, so I decided to get closer and find out for myself. I commented on his WhatsApp status, and with time he started commenting on mine. When he posted something about him and his friends chilling, I asked why he didn’t invite me, and he told me he would invite me next time. Our conversation was good but nothing special until one day, he sent the invitation I’d been waiting for.

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He came to pick me up from the house and took me to the venue. We had a great night, and he brought me back home. The next morning, I sent a long message thanking him and telling him how he made my life better because of what happened during our outing. He told me he didn’t know I liked it that much and that we would do it often.

In one of those outings, we kissed. He leaned in, and I took the rest from there. He hadn’t proposed to me yet, but I thought that kiss sealed whatever we had going on. I was expecting the proposal to follow. I had already melted, waiting for him to fetch me up and mould me into any piece he wanted. He didn’t propose. That night, we drove silently home as if there were a wall between us.

When I got home, I sent him a message and thanked him for the night. When he responded, he apologized for the kiss. He said he didn’t know what came over him and that it wasn’t going to happen again. I laughed at the apology and questioned why he should apologize for something the two of us enjoyed. “I enjoyed it. I was wishing for more, so why apologize? The only thing for me was why we were doing it, but aside from that, all was well.”

He said his life was about to change in a few weeks and he didn’t want to put me in a situation where I would feel cheated. I probed. I asked him to be honest about his feelings for me, and he said he loved me but couldn’t have a relationship because he was getting married in the next three months.

It felt like I had flown too close to the sun with my wax wings and had to fall while I melted. I was silent for a few seconds. He kept saying sorry while I was busy processing what I’d gotten myself into. I said it was okay and decided to pull away from him. After all, what was there to pick?

I wasn’t calling, so he did the calling. I wasn’t texting, but he didn’t stop flooding my phone with messages. When he realized things were not the same, he asked if I was cutting him off, and I said, “Yes. You’re getting married, so you need all the space and a free heart to do that.” He said he wanted me in his life. He didn’t want me out of his space because that would complicate things for him.

He came around often after work, and one day we had sex in his car. It felt crazy and cheap, like a stolen commodity you have no use for, but the chemistry was good, coupled with the fear of being caught. After that, I thought we’d end. Usually, men are like that. Once they get the sex, they turn away and wipe every emotion that ever existed between you. I thought that was what was happening, but no, he kept coming until it turned into a relationship.

For the few months we had before his marriage, life was intense, confusing, and exhilarating all at the same time. He could run from his place and come knocking at my door at dawn, like he was being chased and needed shelter. I coiled around him like I was his safety away from the storm. He asked, “Where have you been all these years?” I answered, “Where have you been all these years, only to appear when committed?”

He wished I was the one he was getting married to, and I wished for the same thing, but wishes are not the kind of horses beggars ride. I was with him when he posted his save-the-date. I was with him when he posted his wedding invitations. I was with him when he started doing the countdown to his wedding, posting his wife-to-be each day. It felt disrespectful to me and to them, but I held my heart together, preventing it from falling apart.

On the eve of his wedding, he was in my room, and I was cooking for him. In the evening, before he said goodbye, we made love. It was like the last bread and wine—a goodbye or a transition away from a life you wouldn’t wish to ever return to.

He did his wedding. What I was seeking to prevent also happened; my heart broke and its contents spilled all over the place. I couldn’t hold it together anymore. After he got married, I never saw him again. The texts ceased. The calls stopped coming. I only saw photos of him and his happy day. I stopped myself from watching his status, yet deep within, I wished he would come back and knock at dawn again. That didn’t happen until early this year, a clear two years after his marriage.

He didn’t even call me when he got here. I stepped out only to see his car parked outside. He said he’d been around for over two hours. I asked what he was looking for, and he said, “You.” I jumped into his car and we talked. All he sought to do was bring back memories of the good days we had, refusing to mention the bad ones. He said marriage hadn’t been the way he thought it would be and that he had always missed me but didn’t know how to call. I said, “You know you could always call me.”

I said that from a place of emptiness and cynicism, but he took it as an invitation to love again. He leaned in, and I leaned out. I said, “Not again. I got burned. Had it not been the Lord who showed mercy, I would have been dead by now. Don’t start again.”

I got out of his car and said good night, but he came again, and for some reason I enjoyed seeing him suffer. It looked like a perfect revenge to see him want me but not be able to get me. I would be free and fine with him until he tried to initiate something wrong, then I would get up and walk away. He stopped coming and instead texted his desires across the line.

I Left Him Because He Didn’t Help In The Kitchen

He still texts, hoping to get a yes, but I see through the lies now and through my own folly. I’m not yet wise, but at least I’ve learned that it burns when you fly too close to the sun with wax wings, so never—and I say never—will I go through that again. I’ve gone through regrets and have been moulded by pain. Even a fool wouldn’t go through that again. I’m determined to build my own love story, even if it takes me a lifetime.

—Gloria

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