I was fifteen when I fell in love with Ignacious. We were both in Catechism together, learning to receive our first communion. I knew what I was feeling for him was wrong. It went against the teachings of the Eucharist but I couldn’t save myself from that feeling.

Anytime I saw him, my heart started beating faster. To calm my racing heart, I would pick up my rosary, kneel at the altar and recite ten hail Marys and one our Father. The feeling didn’t go away. If anything it became stronger.

Ignacious was an altar boy. I couldn’t unsee him no matter how hard I tried. Father would lift the bread and ask the congregation to look at the Christ who died for our sins but I would be looking at Ignacious—a boy who would do nothing for me but rather drag me into sin. The teenage heart is a potent magnetic field. It sees a piece of metal and it clings to it. Nothing can separate the two. That was the feeling I was going through with Ignacious.

On his part, he played nice with me but was never consistent. I wanted him all for myself but he was the life of the party kind of guy. He would like to jump here and there without spending all his time with me. I was breaking down. His love was consuming my spirit yet he didn’t know it.

Before we took our first communion we had to go for confession. Father in a booth, you walk there, confess your sins to him and he prays for you. That day, I was determined to confess my feelings for Ignacious, hoping after the prayers, God would take them away from me. When it got to my turn and I entered the booth I said, “Bless me Father for I have sinned. This is my first confession….” I said all the wrongs I remember I’d done. When it got to mentioning my feelings for Ignacious, I choked. Father said, “Go on.” I answered, “Father, that’s all.”

I couldn’t but for some strange reasons I still don’t know, Ignacious started hitting on me after catechism when we had already taken our first communion. He sat with me in church, played with me and walked me home. On our way one evening after practice, “He held my hand and my palms started getting wet. He said, “Your palm is wet.” I said, “Yeah, it happens.” He said, “Why are you shaking?” I asked, “Am I shaking? Maybe I’m scared.”

He pulled my hand downward and we stopped walking. He asked, “Would you be my girlfriend?” I asked, “How about the other girls in your life?”

I watched him speak for several minutes, defending himself and denying everybody he had ever spoken to. “It’s you I like.”

I agreed to be his girlfriend and that very night, on the dark road to my house, he kissed me and I kissed back. The kiss lasted for a few seconds but the memory of it lasted all night and days until I saw Ignacious on Sunday.

He was on the altar doing his altar-boy duties. Each time he bowed, I felt like he was bowing to my heart. When he knelt down I said in my mind, “Oh get up dear. I’ve forgiven you. You don’t need to kneel for me?” I personalized his every move. I missed the mass but I went to collect the communion and later prayed for forgiveness.

One day I went to his house in the afternoon. He was there alone so we managed to do our own things. When he tried lifting my skirt, I tapped his hand gently and asked him to stop. He said, “I just want to see what you have there.” I answered, “There’s nothing there apart from what you think is there. Look at me.”

My body was yearning for shuperu but the pant I was wearing was torn. I couldn’t let my boyfriend see it. In that period of my life, I had only two panties. They were both torn at the bottom from overwashing. I think those panties were passed on to me by a senior cousin or so. I don’t remember but I didn’t get them as new. My aunt didn’t think a girl like me needed more panties so she didn’t buy any for me.

Anytime I was with Ignacious, I kept a gracious face but my underwear was not gracious at all so I couldn’t let him see it.

One day, I agreed for us to do it if only he could make the room darker. He asked why and I said, “I’m shy.” He turned off the room light and pulled down all the curtains in the room but still, the room was lit. I could see him clearly and he could also see me clearly. I told him, “No. It’s not dark enough. I still see you and you still see me.” He got angry. “It’s afternoon. Where am I going to get the darkness from?”

He tried all he could to get me to have sex with him but each time we met, I wore ripped panties so I couldn’t let him see beyond my skirt. The love was there. The willingness was there. I was ready to give him my all but each time my head and heart said yes, my torn panties said no and it’s the voice of my torn panties I listened to because it came out louder with embarrassment attached to it.

READ ALSO: I Don’t Understand Why He Hid His Kids From Me

We stayed in love until our BECE results came and we both went to school. Maybe in school, he met beautiful girls who probably had nice panties so he came back home with a changed heart. He didn’t come to church again for me to see him. We were on and off until finally, our hearts gave up. I got a new set of panties when I was going to school. I was willing to show them to him one after the other but that was the time his mind changed and didn’t want to have anything to do with me.

I look back on this memory and I laughed but it was a serious thing. It was a serious problem I found myself in. I could have been pregnant because we didn’t know so much about sex and pregnancy. Looking at the rate I went to see him and the many times we had the chance to do it but didn’t do it, I might have gotten pregnant at some point and missed the boat to my future.

I’m grateful for torn panties. They were my saving grace.

I went to school with an empty heart because I’d given all the love I had away to Ignacious. There was nothing left for any other boy so those who came along, I said no to them. Even a teacher made a pass at me and I threatened to report him. I don’t know where I got the strength from but after Ignacious, my heart numbed. There were no fantasies and no teenage dreams.

My next boyfriend came when I was in my second year at the university. It amounted to nothing. I had another one when I was in my third year, a Nigerian. He was sweet and all but decided to have a tattoo so I left him.

Right after school, I had this one I’m still living with. He’s good and all and it looks like something good would come out of it. This #MyFirstRelationship series brought back the memories of Ignacious and I shared them with my boyfriend. Come and see teasing. Now he calls me madam ripped pants.

In The End, I Had To Choose Between Three Men | Beads Media

Ignacious?

I don’t know where he is now. I’ve asked some childhood friends who knew him but they also don’t know much about his whereabouts. So, if you’re Ignacious and you’re reading this and you remember going through this experience with a girl around 2010, then know that this is the reason why you couldn’t go beyond my skirt. You asked why and I couldn’t tell you. This is your why now. I’m sorry if it’s coming late.

#MyFirstRelationship

—Rhoda

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