I have a thing for men who have depth—real depth. Men who go deep within themselves before they speak. They see things differently. They approach life differently. They process information differently. The world may see something and call it red. They may see the same thing and say, “Yeah it’s red but…” Then they’ll go ahead and give you something you didn’t know exist. They’ll offer you a different dimension that will make you think. To them, the world is not just black and white. There’s something in between. They are always interested in what is between black and white. There’s a name for that—a name for people like me who finds intelligence sexually attractive. It’s a big word. Anytime I try to mention it, my friends laugh at me. My lips are not used to big words so I don’t mention it a lot. 

Alex got me with his intelligence. He told me he’s a medical doctor. That didn’t impress me. There are doctors who are doctors on paper. They speak and you ask yourself how they were able to become doctors. He told me the places he had traveled and the kind of people he had met. That also didn’t impress me. We had a date one evening and had a real conversation for the first time. I looked at him and how carefully he chose his words. How he dealt with the questions I posed to him and how confident he sat as he spoke. I said to myself, “He’s one of the guys. Those special ones who look for what’s between black and white.”

So I opened myself up to the idea of dating him. He proposed at first and I said no. I knew him with his words. I wanted to know him based on his actions. I didn’t want a man whose words and actions are far apart. I was watching him. I was listening to him. I was picking the pieces of the puzzles and putting them together. He called when he said he would call. He texted when he didn’t have the time to talk on the phone. He woke up in the morning and gave me a call, outlining how his day was going to be like. He made me part and parcel of his plans. He was a busy person. He made me understand that he wasn’t going to get time for me every day but when he finally made time for me, all his attention was on me. 

I said yes to him and we started dating. 

When I said yes, he asked about my expectations. How I wanted things to run in the relationship. I didn’t have much to say but because sex is a very important topic for me, I discussed it with him right there. I told him, “When it comes to giving out the cookie, I take my time to decide. I’m not the take-off-your-dress-and-let’s-do-it kind of girl. It’s a spiritual journey for me. Sometimes I would even pray about it before I do it.” He laughed. He said, “You pray about it? As in you welcome God to the table and commit the sin right before his eyes?” We laughed about it but he got the point. He said, “I get it. It’s the same with me. I don’t do it just to check a box like some men do. Some men will do it just to stroke their egos. I’m not that kind of man. It takes a special connection for me to want to do it. I get you. I won’t push for it until we are both ready.

You see what I was talking about? Depth. Those guys who have it always see things differently and have a way of saying it. 

We were on the same page so we took off beautifully. The start is always about learning. You can only learn when you get closer so every opportunity I had, I got closer to him. I would go to his house on weekends and help out with things he needed help with. Sometimes, he’ll pass by my place and stay for a while. Each time we were closer, he gave me signs and clues that he wanted to bamba. He would pull me in and start stroking my hair and try going to sacred places. I was the one who was always pulling away. He will ask why and I will tell him, “Because I’m not yet ready.” He will ask, “How long does it take for you to be ready? Just tell me so I don’t start what we can’t finish.” I couldn’t tell him. “If I tell him then he won’t get closer to me,” I told myself. I liked it when he touched my hair. I loved it when our skins touched. I loved it when we got so close that I could feel his breath but I just couldn’t bring myself to take the final step. He asked, “Or it’s because you haven’t prayed.” I answered, “I pray only when I’m ready.”

We survived a year without doing it. When I say we survived, it means we went through a lot of things that sought to break us down but we sailed through. You can come through with broken bones and a battered face. As long as you’re breathing, you survived. So we survived. 

It was his birthday. All week we were planning on what to do on his birthday. We planned a mini party. Just for the two of us. I will be in his house, decorate his table with fine clothes, order food and wine from a nearby restaurant, light the candles, dim the light, and have a date—just the two of us. But I had one plane he didn’t know about. I was going to give it all away if only he would make the move for it. I knew what I wanted. I’d come to trust him enough to give it all away to him. I trusted his words: “I won’t do it to check a box.” After a whole year of being with him, I felt ready.

We had a lot to eat and a lot to drink. After everything, he made an attempt to bamba with the big girl. I said in my head, “Let’s get to it. This is the time. Let’s get ready to rumbleeee! Bam! My clothes were off. He looked at me with curious eyes. As if he had questions. He said, “Come closer.” He got up and put on the light. He was looking at me sternly. I started getting uncomfortable. I asked, “What is it? You’re making me feel weird.” He said, “Is that hair I see over there?” I retorted, “What could be there apart from hair?” He said, “Eiiii all that is just hair? Me I don’t like it with hair ooo. It’s too much.” 

To make matters worse, he pointed to the bathroom and said, “There’s a shaving stick somewhere there. Go and get them off and let me see something.”

I started putting on my clothes. I’ve never been embarrassed in my life. He was angry for hairs that are on my own skin. He didn’t ask why I keep hair there. he didn’t even request for me to shave it. He ordered with a strict face like a father would order her daughter to do something. “Go in there and shave them off!” As if I didn’t know what was good for me. I told him, “Forget it. I’m not doing it again.” He said, “It’s not you who wouldn’t do it. It’s me who wouldn’t plunge into such thick forest.” I said, “Hey Alex, are you serious? It’s hair you see not my menses.” He said, “What’s the difference”

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I wore my clothes embarrassingly. Looked for my slippers and started leaving. I thought he would stop me. I thought he would run up to me and say, “Oh dear, I’m just joking with you.” Apuu! He just sat there and watched me leave. “Maybe it’s the alcohol that’s making him act this way. He’ll be sober tomorrow morning and won’t even remember. If he remembers, he’ll call and apologize.” I told myself.

The next morning I checked my phone to see if he had called. No missed call. I checked my Whatsapp. No message. I waited for his call all day and it didn’t come. Around 7pm I called him. I said, “After embarrassing me last night, you don’t think I deserve an apology?” He said, “You have to apologize for walking away.” I said, “You were the one who embarrassed me.” He said, “Embarrassed you? Am I the one who grew the hair for you?”

Another fight. Another embarrassment for me. The call dropped. I decided not to call him again.

He shamed me. I didn’t think it was such a taboo to grow hair at places I deem fit until he came in. He brought such an awful awareness to something I didn’t know was bad. The next day, he called to apologize. I said it was ok. “I’m fine.” I lied. I wasn’t fine and I hadn’t been fine. We are still together but I still think of the embarrassment every now and then. I don’t think I will ever take my clothes off in front of him again. Even if we marry, It would be very difficult for me. We are together but my soul is no longer in the relationship. He hasn’t tried to touch me again since the incident. I feel the spark is gone on both sides. Should I call it off or I should stay for a while and see if something will happen to bring the spark back into our lives? It’s been three months already but I feel no spark.

–Isabelle

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