Love, Crushes, and Ignorance

My sister used to date one of the finest guys in our secondary school. As a teenager in an average Nigerian home, the only way you can see your school boyfriend outside of schooling hours is when you lie.
The one hour errand to the market would stretch for two hours because of your ulterior motives.
Outside of errands, you’d have to lie that you are visiting your female classmate for study lessons. This is where I would later come in.
Each time my sister returns from the ‘market’, she would tell me how beautiful her boyfriend’s house is. They were from a middle class family. His mom worked as a nurse in America where she sent fat cheques home.
His father, took care of his three adult boys back in Nigeria. My sister’s boyfriend at 19 was the youngest of the family. Let’s call him XYZ.
My sister used to tell me not only about XYZ beautiful family house, but on how good looking his immediate elder boyfriend’ is.
She was smitten.
“If you think XYZ is fine then you need to see his brother. He is the finest of all of them. I can’t even describe.” She said.
I think she had a crush on him.
I was curious, but I was more interested in seeing their house. I knew her boyfriend from school and by the virtue of him being my friend too, I had reasons to visit this heavenly home of theirs.
It had gotten to a point where our parents were getting suspicious of her, and not allowing her to go out anymore so she wanted us to strike a deal.
Since they trusted me more, If I lied to them that I want to visit my female friend, and I insist on her accompanying me, we would go straight to her boyfriend’s house.
I accepted without hesitation.
XYZ family house was everything my sister said it was.
I was fascinated.
After taking in the house I left my sister and XYZ in the living room and went to sit alone at their patio.
There was a window opposite me that had the full view of the patio and I noticed someone was staring at me.
The blinds were raise or lowered each time I dropped or raised my head. It was like we were both playing a peek-a-boo game.
At first I suspected it was their father but it didn’t make sense for an elderly man to behave in that childish manner in his own house.
I suddenly remembered it was one of XYZ brothers. Perhaps the good looking one my sister told me about. I became shy immediately.
I was fidgety. I would trace something invisible on the ground, pretend to read the book I brought with me, bit my nails.. anything to distract me from the fact that someone had refused to take his gaze from me.
At this point, the blinds were permanently raised.
I could not leave the spot I was seated to join my sister in the living room, and the thought that perhaps, a man was fancying me got me excited.
Eventually I heard the backdoor creak and he was walking right to me.
He was even more handsome than I had imagined.
This happened many years so I can’t remember the first words he said when he approached me but I remember him sitting with me and pulling my finger from my mouth. I thought I was going to melt from his touch.
He had asked why I am biting my nails, and if I am my sister’s sister. I could only nod.
He said he hopes I’ll continue accompanying her whenever she comes because he’ll like to see me everyday.
“I want to stare at your beautiful face everyday.” He said.
I cannot forget those particular words that made me experience my first feeling of flapping butterflies in my stomach.
At that moment, I thought I was in love.
I was 12 years old. He was 25.
You know, every week, we read cases of pedophile like relationships where adult men date teenage girls with the excuse that the girl gave her consent for such relationship, that it was a mutual agreement.
In some cases, the girl in her ignorance would come to the defense of her man.
There are lessons you can only learn with age.
Teenagers, female teenagers especially attempt to grow up too fast.
Sometimes the peer pressure of seeing their peers in a romantic relationships gets to them. Sometimes the attention from men fuels their self esteem.
Whatever the reasons, the onus lies on the adult to act as the bigger person here.
The older male, in most cases, understands consent betters.
He knows a 13 year old has no business being in a romantic relationship.
He knows dating a 14 years old is illegal.
He knows he is good looking and 15 year old girls are bound to mistake a hand of friendship to them for true love.
He has a duty not to abuse her, or take her innocence for granted.
The crush she feels in most cases is fleeting.
He has a duty to educate her.
In my case, I could not believe a guy like that with such looks and exposure, was attracted to a basic 12 year old like me.
A week later I was already visiting that house at least thrice a week with my sister.
Two weeks later I was taking solo trips to see my new boyfriend.
What can a 25 year old and a 12 year old possibly discuss?
I would stay in his room and he would play movies for me on his CD player.
We would watch in silence and when the film ends, I would carry my novel and be going. LoL.
I forgot to add that sometimes my boyfriend made me indomie with fried eggs to eat.
Indomie used to be very delicious back then and my family was too poor to afford indomie so my 12 year old self was in my a relationship for the Hollywood action movies and indomie meals.😂
One day, two or three weeks since our first meeting we had just finished watching a movie when he got up abruptly from the bed. I thought he was going to bring me my plate of noodles as usual but he started closing his dark curtains.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“I want to kiss you today.” He said.
I was scared and excited at the same time. I wanted my first kiss to be special but I had no experience so I turned him down and told him it was going to happen next time.
I pleaded that I needed time to ‘prepare.’
Preparation for me was heavily investing in movies where they kiss.
I had to watch closely to observe how it was done.
For three weeks he would ask, and I would shyly respond with next time.
I stopped going to his room.
Imagine arriving someone’s house without notice in an era of no cellphones and going to sit at their patio with a novel until he notices your dumb ass from his window.
I thought I was smart but I was only book-smart.
Whenever he came out he would run his hands on my face and taunt me with words like. “I want to taste your beautiful lips.” “Don’t you think of kissing me too?” “I want my tongue in your mouth.”
I would pick up my novel and flee from his compound.
Two days after I would take the 5km trip back to his house!
One day, he couldn’t stand it anymore so he told me to stop coming to their house and return only when I am ready to kiss.
He gave me an ultimatum.
It was either I kiss him or I lose him.
Unfortunately, the kiss was a disaster when it eventually happened.
He had just finished a meal of vegetable soup with eba a few minutes before I arrived, which left a big patch of ugwu leaf on his teeth.
The ugwu taste in his mouth, the concentrated fluoride taste on mine.
The combined taste was awful. I felt scammed by the hype around kisses.
And then, I mistakenly bit his tongue badly because I was trying to make his wait worthwhile by practicing what I thought was a French kiss.
He screamed in pain, then he brushed me off and asked that I leave.
It was one of my most embarrassing experiences.
A month later I returned to his house. I didn’t wait at the patio as usual. I went to his room. This time I was bolder. I guess this is what happens when a child starts eating a food meant for adults.
His room looked different. His mannerism too.
There were tens of Christ Embassy Rhapsody for Realities devotionals scattered on his desk.
He was seated in one corner, reading a big daddy G.O bible and making notes.
So this is how I’m going to become a pastor’s wife, I thought to myself.
After he welcomed me he didn’t speak to me. We just sat at extremes of the room in silence. It was awkward.
“So won’t you kiss me today?” I asked like a little she-devil when I finally found my tiny voice an hour later.
I just wanted another chance to make up for the embarrassing experience of last time.
“No.” He said.
“I’m busy.”
“Busy with what?”
He closed the big bible and sat up.
“Can’t you see I am now born again.” He said.
“So you mean…” I was saying.
“Yes!” He said, without waiting for me to complete my sentence.
I just got up and walked out of the house dizzily, in search for an okada to carry my heartbroken self back to my father’s house.
That was the last time I saw him, until this afternoon I found him on Facebook.
His profile is a photo of him, and and a lady wearing matching traditional attires.
On his header are three beautiful little girls.
His Facebook timeline is full of video clips of Pastor Chris teachings.
His about me column?
“Am a tongue speaker believer of Christ. Born again by the spirit.”
He did not lie.

Read also:Do you share water bottles?

Post a comment