He was the smartest in our class from the very first day in Level 100. He was always confident, and he spoke with such ease that his presence filled the room. He was always prepared, and when everyone was afraid to lead class presentations, he would step up and do it effortlessly. He answered questions no one dared to touch, and whenever the room went silent during tough lectures, he would raise his hand and save us all before the dreaded words, “Take a sheet of paper,” could be spoken.

He was a gentleman too. He wouldn’t see you struggling and walk away. One time, during an assignment, he noticed that some of us were having a hard time, and he offered to help. That was how I finally got his number.

A week later, Valentine’s Day arrived. Everyone was receiving gifts, and I got a call from a delivery man saying he had a parcel for me. I gave directions: pass here, use this road, but the parcel never came. It was a prank, and yes, it was him all along.

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He admitted it later when we officially started dating. He asked me out just a few days after that prank call. You know how they say men go after what they want? That was him. We met, and he was very direct. “I’m not trying to play games or experiment. I like you. I want to date you and marry you. I want to grow and realise my big dreams with one woman, and you are the one.”

He was sincere, and he said he didn’t want to leave pieces of himself scattered across different people. He made it clear that his dreams had space for me.

I was nineteen, but I already liked him. Everyone did. So even though I asked for time to think, deep down I knew I was going to say yes. I just needed a little more assurance, and he gave it.

So I said yes.

He stole our first kiss, and it became our thing. I would cry if he visited and left without doing it. He made me feel special, and he made me feel like I mattered. I felt like I came first.

Then all of a sudden, he began behaving like a possessive boyfriend. One day it was, “I don’t want to see you around, Kweku or Ama,” and the next it was about the clothes I wore. Then it became about the places I went. When I asked why, he said those things would distract us from the big dreams we were building together: the dreams he had shared with me, the ones where I was his wife and played a big part.

It felt suffocating. Imagine not being able to be around your friends because your boyfriend said so. Not wearing clothes you felt comfortable in, or even walking a certain way because he said that’s not how a woman of big dreams walks. I couldn’t breathe, and I was losing myself in the process.

Then I met someone else, Kwaku.

Kwaku didn’t try to change me. He didn’t dictate my life, and he didn’t sell me big dreams. But he was satisfying. He listened when I spoke, and he didn’t care who my friends were. He didn’t comment on my clothes or try to direct my choices. He simply let me be, and for a moment, that felt like freedom. I loved that I could fly without troubles.

So I called Mr Dreams controlling. I called him toxic. I said he was too dreamy, and I broke things off. I left him for Kwaku.

But for whatever reason, the magic fell off my eyes, and I saw how things were going to turn out with Kwaku. I agree he wasn’t toxic. He was kind and calm. But he was just there. He didn’t push me to grow, and he wasn’t encouraging me or leading me anywhere. He wasn’t dreamy like Mr Dreams.

So I left him too.

And I realised how slow I had been in thinking. I regretted it. I had been with Mr. Dreams, and he had forced me to be better. He had big dreams, and I was included. I was a better version of myself with him, and I had allowed myself to be clouded by things that weren’t real issues.

Mr Dreams wasn’t toxic. He was just scared. He was scared of watching our dreams fall apart, and maybe I was scared too. I was scared of becoming someone new before fully knowing who I had to be.

So I went back to him. My hands behind my back, asking for another chance. I didn’t have shame, because I wanted the man who pushed me to greater heights, and there is absolutely no shame in that.

He took his time. He said he needed to be sure that I wasn’t trying to play with his feelings. And when he finally accepted me again, things got better.

He is a better boyfriend now. He is not controlling, and he is not suffocating. He doesn’t question my clothes, and he doesn’t ask where I’m going. He doesn’t check who I’m with, not because he doesn’t care, but because he sees that I have grown. I no longer make choices based on his approval, and I live by my own values now.

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There is one thing he still holds on to. He doesn’t want me to take money from friends. He says it makes him uncomfortable, so he provides, and I do not lack.

But I feel he has doubts. It feels like he is on standby, waiting for me to leave again. I don’t think he fully trusts me, and I get it. I understand his point. But I’m sure that as time goes on, he will trust again. It could be tomorrow, today, or any day.

Presently, he is here. He loves me, and he supports me. He is pushing me to be better, and I am here, staying for it all. I am cheering his dream, because now his dream is ours. It belongs to both of us.

—Irene

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