I went to the swimming pool on my twenty-sixth birthday not knowing anything about swimming. Till today, I don’t even know why I chose the pool. I love food. I could have chosen to be somewhere they serve food. I love music. I could have chosen a ground where music plays nonstop. I didn’t choose any of these. I picked up a swimming suit I’d bought a day earlier and headed to the pool having no idea what I was going to do there.

I sat at the edge of the pool all dressed up like an olympian. Usually, pools have inscriptions at the edges, showing which is the deeper side. This one had none so I was scared to step in. All the swimmers in there were kids learning how to float or how to jump into the pool. I sat at the edge with my feet dangling in the water while trying to avoid the sprinkles of water touching my skin.

I sat there for like an hour watching kids swim and wondering about all the bad choices I’d made in life including being at the pool in that moment. Along the line, two guys came in with a ball. They started swimming and splashing heavy water which made me uncomfortable. I was at the pool but didn’t want the water to touch my skin, talk about ironies.

I got up and started leaving to the other side when one of the guys called and said sorry. He knew I was leaving because of them but when I sat there for too long, he came to ask why I wasn’t swimming. I lied to him, “My swimming instructor stood me up so I don’t know what to do.” He said, “If you don’t mind, I can help you. I have students who will be coming in very soon but since they are not here, maybe I could start with you.”

I got up, removed the towel around my waist and walked in with him. He asked me, “What can you do?” I answered, “Nothing. I’m new. Teach me like you’ll teach a beginner.”

So he started. He said, “This is to get you comfortable with the water…”

Days later, I got comfortable with him and we became friends. We talked about swimming and swimming instructors who never come. I told him I would hire him instead. I was growing fond of him and I knew it. He looked like a considerate person too, looking at how he managed to help and how he decided to check up on me every day.

We swam together every Saturday and Sunday. He said I was getting better but I didn’t see it. The only better I got was getting to know him better as a person than as a swimming instructor. One Sunday after swimming lessons, he asked to know where I lived and I told him. I asked, “Are you coming to visit me?” He answered, “If only no one will beat me.”

He came and no one beat him. I cooked for him and saw a shadow of the bond growing between us. I  knew he liked me but he was taking his time or something was holding him back. I didn’t initiate because I’m a woman who loves to be proposed to and not the other way around.

It took him one month but it was OK. He said, “I think you’re a good person. I usually don’t fall in love with people I teach but you’re different. Would you…?” I answered, “I usually don’t fall for people who teach me but you’re different. Can you give me some time to think about it?”

When he got home, I called to tell him yes.

Love was like a breaststroke technique where we learned to keep our heads on the water so we could breathe while we swim. He was good with words and I had ears that loved to listen to beautiful words. We were a perfect match. He kept teaching me even when I was his just that it got too far sometimes. When no one was in the pool, we tried to get crazy and explore what made us happy.

Those were the happy days. A year later, things were not as it used to be. He didn’t remember my birthday and the anniversary of our meeting. I forgave him. Most of my texts went unanswered. I told myself he was busy. He borrowed things from me and didn’t return them. He took money that never came back to me. I was helping a boyfriend so I didn’t ask him to pay but all these actions began to raise a red flag in my eyes.

He complained of lack of money but apart from being an instructor on weekends, he had an 8-5 work on weekdays and his swimming lessons were always booked. I asked questions and he got angry. I loved him too much so even when he was wrong, I apologized for things I hadn’t done.

I deserved better so I told him I was leaving. I wasn’t actually leaving. I was testing the pulse of the relationship to see if it was still active. He fought for me. He changed. He called every day and came to visit often. He took me to the pool on weekends just like we used to. Everything was fine for two months and then we slumped again.

I drew his attention to it and he called me a nagger. “Why do you always see things differently? I’m okay and this relationship is working fine. Why do you see failure where I see success?”

I saw his call one night. I knew it wasn’t going to be a good call. He said, “We need to talk.” I answered, “I’m all ears.”

“I’m sorry this is not working the way I wanted it to. It’s not about you. The fault is mine. I know you love me and you want something better than I’m giving you currently. Forgive me but I need some space to figure things out. Just a while to know what I really want.”

That’s exactly what he told me on the phone. I asked for how long and he didn’t know. I asked what I should be doing while he was away figuring things out and he told me, “I don’t know but you can decide for yourself what would make you happy.” I asked again, “For how long?” And this time he said, “It can be very soon. I may miss you so much and come back as soon as possible. I want to know what I’m missing and if what I’m missing is in you, it wouldn’t take so long.”

I sighed heavily and responded, “Alright. I will be here when you are ready.” He went silent for a while. He sighed. He said bye-bye and hung up.”

I knew I wasn’t going to wait. Even if that was what was in my head, my heart didn’t agree. I cried a little. I went to the fridge and drank some water. When I cried again, it felt like the water I drunk was falling out. I slept and dreamt both of us were in a pool. He was swimming to the south and was beckoning me to follow him. I ignored. I swam to the north. He looked back and said, “It’s not your fault. Now you know how to swim so you don’t follow orders.”

In the morning, I said to myself, “It’s a metaphor. The dream. We are no longer swimming to the same place.”

Slowly my head healed and my heart firmed up. I found myself a new pool. The first time I was there, I didn’t dangle my leg in the water hoping for someone to teach me. I dived headfirst and washed off the pain of my brokenness.

Four months later, he’s back because he’s missing me. “I missed you the very day I said goodbye and for four months I’ve been fighting my demons. I’m ok now and everything in me says you’re the one. This time is about marriage because I already know you’re the one I need.”

I told him about the dream. “I was swimming northward. You were calling for me to come. I ignored you because I could swim on my own. Unfortunately, I’m not here waiting for you. I also did some figuring out of my own. It said I should move on so I did. I’m sorry. I already have someone.”

He accused me of not loving him enough. He said I already had someone that was why he couldn’t feel the connection. He made it my fault instead of saying something sensible. I accepted everything he accused me of and told him, “I’m sorry about everything. It’s not about you. The fault is all mine.”

I’ve Thought About How To Blame God

Why do guys come back when you have learned to move on? And when they come back, why do they behave like you’re the air they breathe? They choke when you don’t say yes to them.

He’s using marriage to bait me. He has spoken to my sister. And has asked for my mom’s contact. He wants to tell my mom about marriage.

They see the truth only when you’re no longer in their lives. It’s ok. People come into our lives for a reason. He came so I may know how to swim. Mission accomplished. On to the next one.

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—Lena

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