I was only fifteen when I met Benson. We started talking intimately. By the time I turned sixteen, we were officially dating. Parents on this page, I know you might shake your head and even scold me in the comments, but I understand that I had my reasons.

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Loneliness is a strange thing. You can live in a house full of people and still feel like the only one there. That was me. Those who were taking care of me believed money solved everything. Anytime I tried to speak about how emotionally neglected I felt, they would cut me off with, “I’ll send you money.” As if emotions could be settled like a mobile money debt.

Even at that age, I thought about marriage. I prayed God would let me marry my first boyfriend. I was alone most of the time and I didn’t like that feeling. I was practically raising myself so I felt like an adult. That’s why when Benson asked me to be his girlfriend, I said yes. We were together for four years.

In the beginning, he was sweet, attentive, the kind of person a lonely teenage girl clings to. At some point, I wasn’t allowed to go out at home, so I started skipping classes just to see him — even during exams. I was in JHS 2.

After JHS, things changed. He began questioning me. He asked me, “Why do you allow your parents to control you when you have enough money in your account to rent your own place?” I was young, impressionable, and starving for affection. So I listened to him.

I left home. However, I told him clearly that we wouldn’t live together, and he said he understood. I rented my own place, started working, and dropped out of SHS. Eventually, I opened a small nail shop. I was doing moulding too, so I wasn’t doing badly.

Everything shifted when I told him I wanted to go to media school. When I stopped giving him money, his true colours showed. Even before then, he was abusive — emotionally, mentally, physically. But I kept quiet. I held on to that foolish teenage dream of marrying my first love. He made sure I couldn’t communicate with anyone else in my life apart from him. Yes, I was so in love that I cut everyone off for him.

Depression settled on me like harmattan dust. I almost took my life because I had no one. No family. No friends. Just this guy who didn’t want me to grow. He never supported my schooling or my business. It didn’t happen immediately but with time, I went against him and enrolled in media school anyway.

The cheating? Let’s not even go there.

What broke me completely was my miscarriage last February. That was when I realised I needed to leave or I would go through too much pain for his sake.

Around November, I met someone new. We talked, but love was far from my mind. Anytime someone mentioned relationship, my heart raced. When intimacy was mentioned, I would switch off the way ECG switches off the lights — unprovoked and without apology.

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Despite my initial feelings, I fell in love with him somewhere along the line. I kept it to myself. Expressing my emotions has never been my strength. He had already told me he liked me, but I was scared. Eventually, we drifted apart.

Then in February this year, I met someone else. He made his intentions clear from the beginning. I told him everything, including the fact that I was still in love with my ex. He didn’t mind, so I said yes to him.

The day I accepted his proposal, I told Benson. I expected something a reaction, maybe a sign that he was jealous. All he said was, “Do you love him?”

Someway, somehow, we started talking again. On and off, like a faulty switch. Then in October, I confessed that I had loved him in silence. I spoke about how stupid I felt sometimes because my love for him lingers after everything he did.

Is There A Perfect One Out There For Everyone?

I set a rule for my life: I will not enter more than three relationships before marriage. If relationships 1, 2, and 3 fail, then that’s it. I’m done. So far I have only one body count.

I’m sharing this because no matter how far I run, I’m still stuck on Benson. We never kissed, never got intimate. Nothing physical. Yet, I love him deeply. I relocated, but the hope of getting back with him remains. A foolish little flame that refuses to die. Is this true love? Or am I just being stupid?

—Danielle 

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