When I joined Facebook in 2012, I didn’t know a lot about it. I didn’t even know there was a way to send a DM. All I saw were photos and posts from people I barely knew. I didn’t enjoy it, so one day, I left and didn’t visit the app again until after a year or so. 

When my interest piqued and wanted to return, I couldn’t remember my password. I did trial and error for weeks before I finally got in. That was around 2014. My notification tab was bleeding red. A lot of messages. A lot of pokes. A lot of other things I don’t remember. I did my best to go through all of them. I returned some of the pokes and accepted all of the friend requests I had pending. My inbox was hard to deal with because a lot of the messages were coming from accounts I didn’t know and most of the messages didn’t make sense.

But a string of messages from one account caught my attention. The guy’s name is George. He started messaging me in April 2012. His first message was, “Hello beautiful, can we be friends?” That same month he came back with another message; “I’m a good person. Don’t judge me wrong. All I want is friendship.” Weeks later he sent another message; “I could be a good Samaritan to you, you might not know. Why won’t you respond to my messages?” 

From there he came by I think every week to send me a message. Going through all the messages what came to mind was, “Some men can be relentless. What is it about digital friendship that would push someone’s son to send me messages every week for the past two years? I didn’t bother to respond to his messages and I didn’t bother to even check him out.

It was my birthday in 2015 when I saw his message on my wall. He said, “May God send favor in your way but remember, that favor may come through someone so when we send you messages, please respond.”  I thought it was funny so I laughed. Other people also found it funny and they commented. He said, “I’ve been sending her messages for the past two years and she doesn’t respond. If you know her, please tell her to reply to my messages.” 

I concluded that he had a mental problem because, to be honest, it didn’t make sense the way he was pursuing me in my inbox. I wanted to respond to him that day. I wanted to just ask what he wanted from me and why he had been so persistent. But I went through his profile first. He attended Harvard and was working at IMF but was living in Accra. He had checked in Golden Tulip not too long ago. All that didn’t bother me other than what he wrote on his wall some weeks past. He said, “Some of you women think every man is after you or looking for sex so when we send you messages you don’t respond but know this, if you grow tall until you reach God’s cheeks, it’s a man who will marry you. You’ll lie under a man so be humble.”

If I was suspecting he had a mental problem, then that status update confirmed it for me. I said, “No need to engage him. He’s a mental case.” I didn’t respond to his messages as I intended to but he never stopped coming. At first, it was once in a while. He would pop up and say “Hello, how are you?” Please respond to my messages” Then it became monthly. He said once, “Please today it’s my birthday. If I’m given the whole world to rule, I won’t be happy. If I’m given all the money in the bank of Ghana, I still won’t be happy. But if I get a message from you, I will be so happy I will call this birthday the best I’ve ever had.” 

I was clapping for him. “Wow, such literal eloquence. Where did he copy that from?” It was so funny I wanted to respond but then it struck me, “The fun will seize the day I respond. Let me enjoy him.” Then he started coming around weekly. Anytime I posted on my wall, he commented and came to my inbox with a message. No matter who you’re dealing with, when one day they stop coming, you’ll begin to miss them. He stopped sending me messages for several months. I should have been happy. I should have said, “Wow, peace at last.” But I couldn’t. I caught myself thinking about him every now and then. I opened my inbox often just to see if he had dropped a message. 

I told Matilda about George and the messages and she asked, “Is he normal?” But when I read some of his messages to her, she laughed until she developed a soft spot for him. She said, “You’re very wicked. I won’t be surprised if you go to hell because of this. That your silly ex, if he sent you some of these messages, would you have left him? C’mon say hello to him and ask where he is.” I wanted to but I didn’t. You don’t put fuel into a fire you don’t want to rage. 

He came again. This time he was very angry. He said, “Who do you think you are? Even the most beautiful girl in the world won’t do what you’re doing. If you say hello to me, will you die? You’ll do all this and later when you grow old and don’t have a husband, you’ll rush to church and worry pastor. You don’t know what you’re missing.” 

That was March 2017. I heard so much from him that anything he said was just funny to me. I could have blocked him but I didn’t. I could have retaliated but I realized also that he only wanted a reaction from me. If I responded, he would have gotten what he wanted. I was also determined not to give him that happiness. That response he craved. I think it was the reason why he kept coming back. He wanted just a word from me so that all the years of laboring wouldn’t be in vain. A man’s ego was bruised. Maybe he had done it to so many other women on Facebook and he had been able to squeeze a response from them. I wasn’t going to give him that happiness. 

Matilda started calling me Mrs. George. She told the story to other friends and they also started calling me the same. To date, they still call me Mrs. George. Not consciously. It had become my name in my circle of friends. You asked them why they call me that and they’ll tell you the story. 

The whole of 2018, I never heard from him. I checked his wall occasionally to see if he had blocked me. He hadn’t. He wasn’t a guy who posted much on his wall, so there was no sign of any activity on his wall. I guess that was his work—going around ladies’ inbox trying to get their attention. When I wasn’t hearing from him I thought he was busy in another woman’s inbox, repeating the messages he sent to me, hoping he might extract a conversation from them. “Maybe he had gotten someone finally.” I said to myself and forgot about him. The only thing that kept bringing my mind to him was the name Matilda was calling me with. 

It was February 7th, 2020 when he sent me a message again. The message came with a photo. Guess what….He was in a black suit next to a woman in a white gown. A wedding photo. His message was, “This could have been us but you don’t respond to messages. She responded to my message a year ago and now see. Continue talking to slay boys and ignore serious guys like us. You’ll never marry.” I burst out laughing. It was so loud my neighbor thought I was being tickled. First, I thought he was just pulling a prank on me. “Maybe, he was the best man for a couple and he is using that to tease me.” So I went to his wall and saw many other photos he had posted and read through all the congratulatory messages he was receiving. I wrote, “Congratulation. You finally found your missing ribs. I wish you all the happiness. You deserve it.”

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He didn’t respond to my message but came into my inbox; “Thanks for your wishes but I don’t need it.”

“Dear George, but we are not enemies? My wishes came from a good place. Indeed I’m happy for you”

“Shame on you. Now that you’re responding to my messages? Now you know that I was serious all along. You’ve missed your chance.”

“Oh George, you think if I liked you I wouldn’t have responded to your messages all this while? I know what I want and I would have walked on all four for you if you were the one. Don’t take it personally.”

“Keep talking in pain. I know it’s paining you.”

“Go and enjoy your marriage, George. You should be on a honeymoon with your wife.”

I called Matilda. “Matilda, my heart is breaking. Come and see me, I’m crying. I’ve lost the chance of a lifetime. Guess what. George sent me his wedding photos and I’m here breaking into pieces.” She asked, “Seriously?” I said, “I lie you not.” And he sent you photos? for what?” I responded, “He sent me photos to break my heart and he succeeded.” We both burst out laughing so loud. Matilda said, “What a man.” I responded, “What a boy!”

The story ends here, right? After all, he had gotten what he wanted. He had gotten a lady at last and he had gotten a response from me so the story ends there, right? No.

Wait for the punchline. His last attempt to make me green with envy

On 31st December 2021, I was in church praying to God for favor for the coming year when my phone’s screen lit up. A message from George. “What is it again?” I asked myself. I checked the message and it read, “I’m going to start the new year as a father. My wife just delivered. A bouncing baby boy. This could have been us but you don’t respond to messages. I hope by now you’re married to the rich man you were waiting for and you have two kids already.” I wanted to be happy for him but the tone of his message got me infuriated. I was in church. I wasn’t going to allow him to set my heart wrong in the face of God. I kept my calm until I got home. I responded, “Congratulations but what next? Photos of your baby’s first step? His first birthday? Announcing the birth of your second child? Are you even happy? Concentrate on your marriage and leave me alone. If you want to raise your family in front of me, then get a reality TV show. I will watch it.”

He was writing a response when I tapped the block button. Something I should have done long ago but trust me, it was good while it lasted. For some reason, Matilda still calls me Mrs. George. If she has to call me by my real name, she has to make a conscious effort to do it. But that’s still ok. It ends here. 

—Mrs. George

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