Not Like This (2)

So our friend Jibola decided to reply the Not Like This letter we all enjoyed here. Happy reading

============================================

Majekodunmi,

I chuckle as I write your name in full because I remember. It’s funny, this thing called memory. You think you have a hold on it and are able to put a dam on it and move on with your life. I chuckle because, I remember the first time I’d teased you about the innuendo that your name is. I told you that it sounded like a virgin’s plea for her lover to be gentle: Don’t let it hurt me. It’s crazy because I remember how you threw your head back and laughed, and then you wrinkled your nose still giggling, calling me a pervert. I laughed with you and knocked my Big Stout back. I remember the chill of the glass and its sweat running down on my hands. I remember because it was at that moment, watching you be happy with me that it hit me. I always wanted to be the reason that you laugh.

You know, I always thought having palpitations for reasons not medically inclined was just hogwash and the stuff for M&Bs. My God, how my heart fluttered when I immediately recognised the cursive that is your handwriting. I’m glad you wrote. I am. I am also glad you broke the dams I’ve taken years to build. Ok I lie. I’m not. I am mad at myself that I still feel so strongly for you. I am angry at myself that one letter from you; all 672 words in it (yes I counted), can take me back. All the way back.

You came into my life as an ear, a shoulder and an arm when I so desperately needed you. I was mourning ‘Motunde leaving me and you were there. Nobody else could understand how I could be so pained over someone who had brought me nothing but pain, but you did. You listened and you never once interrupted my going on and on. I remember how you told me it wasn’t wise for me to go and try to beg her to come back. I remember how you tried to reason with me, and tell me the way of women. God, in retrospect, I realize how crazed I must have looked. When I insisted, you seemed pained but bade me well. It’s what I loved about you, your quiet resilience and support.

Our people say that when a child sees a bushrat, he kills it. When he sees a pigeon, he kills it too. But when he encounters the insurmountable, he beats a hasty retreat to the safety of where he calls home. I made a beeline for your arms when she rejected and humiliated me for the last and final time. You didn’t laugh at me. Dear God, I deserved to be laughed at. You told me I was a great guy that she didn’t deserve. 

You always do this thing, this back and forth, this push and pull, and I hate you for it. I gave you everything, and I was ready to give you even more. I remember how I lowered that glass of the rich dark brew, and I looked straight at you. The laughter dwindled out and you looked at me puzzled wondering what. I told you that first time that I loved you. You smiled and looked away, but when you looked at me again it was with a resolve. You didn’t want to be a rebound. Oh God how I ached to shake some sense into you. You always teased me about being the Giacomo Cassanova nobody knew. You compared me to how he always loved deeply and… Why the hell could you not understand that I wasn’t joking when I said those words? Are you in my heart? Why could you not just believe me? You told me I was everything. You told me I was the best man you had ever met in your life, but why was I not enough for you? I know I was broken into a million pieces and you had helped me pick some of the shards, but why couldn’t my shards be sufficient for you? Didn’t you know they were all I had left to give?

It became harder and harder for us to hang out knowing that how I felt for you meant nothing to you. But I held on. If I couldn’t be your man, I’d be your friend. I knew you’d come around. I knew the comfortable silences and the random cuddles as we watched movies together weren’t for naught. I knew. Ashey, I was wrong. And then like a debutante arriving on the social scene, you seemed to suddenly have a crowd of suitors. They meant nothing until Tunde. I remember him, with his sleek manner. You once complained about how sleazy he was and how he only wanted to jump in your panties and be gone. I snapped that day. I asked why you always spent so much time with someone you knew wasn’t worth your time, when you had someone to love you without condition. I couldn’t understand it.  And just like that, we fought. My pride didn’t let me extend the Olive branch. And when I finally came to my senses I couldn’t reach you. It killed me, everyday. Do you know I googled you? I pined and pined until time eroded the pain. I tried to fuck away the pain, and when that didn’t work, I started to see other people. No woman measured up ever since. And after a while, I stopped comparing other women to you. What did you care anyway. Then I began to hate you. If you loved me like you said you did, why didn’t you choose me like I did you? Why wasn’t my love enough for you?

My life was fine till you waltzed right back in with a message on Facebook. I was on the train but I whooped without a care in the world. I composed and recomposed my first message in reply to you. My world was right again, well somewhat. It was just like old times, and I was like the desert lily receiving its once-in-five-year rains. I bloomed. There was a glitch but I debated whether or not to tell you. Looking back I wish I had just fixed things without giving you a chance to reject me again. Fisayo had already made me content, and that was it. Until you came back that was all I needed. I foolishly told you about her and then you shut down on me again. You said you couldn’t be with another woman’s man. As always, my love was not enough. I begged you, I told you all the things I’d never said. I can love no one like I do you. I told you that much.

Fisayo is due in a few weeks, and I am naming the baby Majek not because I want to be tormented with your name all my life but because I want her to be an epitaph to all that we once were. Loving you like this hurts. And I don’t want to hurt anymore. For this reason, I’ll just let you be another memory in the dusty library that is my life. This is me letting you go like you did to me twice. I won’t love you any less, unfortunately. I’m afraid that my heart is forever bound to yours but I can’t let my pain be forever bound to you.

Good bye my love. Please be happy all your days. You deserve that much.

Love always,
Olamide

Advertisements

13 thoughts on “Not Like This (2)

  1. kovieparker says:

    I hate so much that I can relate to both letters. They say, “it’ll hurt while it heals.. But it’ll get better in time”. Since it still hurts, does that mean it’s still healing? Or is this just the occasional itch from the injury of what now feels like a lifetime ago? I just really hate that I know what this feels like. Sigh… Sometimes, it’s so much easier not to love at all.

  2. frankices says:

    “..If I couldn’t be your man, I’d be your friend…” If only more guys wud think this way… *sigh*

    😦 I don’t like this story a lot. As I read, my stomach became more tensed up. I guess, deep down, I havnt reli forgotten…

    *sigh*

  3. Timiebix says:

    Sadly I relate with this and on the verge of writing this…. ” Loving you like this hurts. And I don’t want to hurt anymore. For this reason, I’ll just let you be another memory in the dusty library that is my life”
    *sigh*

  4. 0latoxic says:

    Accusations and counter accusations. Why can’t we all just get along :p

    All the women I’ve ever really loved, I’m still very good friends with. There’s more pain in seeing them out of my life entirely than in ‘resetting’ back to the deep friendship we had before we became ‘more’. i receive more fulfillment than pain from being there for them as a friend and watching them find and experience happiness, even if it’s with someone else. Long story short, I believe in a little space to heal from the hurt and that’s it. No need to cut someone from your life if you’re sure their as great now as they were then. Just be sure to leave those feelings in the past where they belong, hard as it may seem.

  5. Bigfoot says:

    Can’t seem to think I’ve ever really loved anyone to the point of binding my heart…except Fl studio, and recently Logic… . Still… lotsa people feel this way. it doesn’t make any sense to me. still… find happiness in the now… sometimes you just don’t see love cos you look at love the wrong way.

  6. Krimmedic says:

    Beautiful stories.
    I do NOT like this girl. I quite understand that she didn’t want to be a rebound girl,I would have none of that as well. But the second time they got in touch? Nah…she was stupid. She did not know who Fisayo was,so she wasn’t stealing another girl’s man. Olamide was begging to be taken. Then please,why did she write the letter? To torment him in his marriage?

    I do NOT like Olamide either. As i didn’t blame Majek for the 1st time,I also don’t blame him for loving the Motunde girl too much.
    But when they reconnected and he knew he was ready to give Fisayo up for her,he should have done just that. He knew she would say no if he asked her,so he should have told her he was leaving Fisayo anyway. Seems to me like he didn’t wanna lose both ways. He should have broken the engagement. Ehen,so he married his 2nd choice. Not fair to Fisayo to even name the child Majek. Please,I’m burnt.

  7. Jk_McDazzles says:

    The problem with men is how they withold the cards when they should be giving all and then lay all the cards down when they should be strategising and witholding…

    I hate how their love went to waste.. It must hurt so deeply..

  8. Jk_McDazzles says:

    And heyyyyy! This person’s writing is very good.. I like the interjections and the “asheys”

Tell me what you think

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s