I’d still like to think I’m celibate, but I worry that after eight weeks of sharing some of my wild experiences and escapades with the world, I’d only be classified as a
celibate hypocrite. I don’t care actually 😊.
In my almost three decades of living and after being with a couple of men -by being with, I mean date- I can finally say I’ve found him. But just before I tell you about ‘The One’, let’s take a sec to recognize the good men of times past, my terrific exes. To the men I made beautiful memories with, to the ones with whom I earnestly wished things worked out, to the ones I breathed more and became happier after we parted ways, and to the one I refuse to regard as an ex, because in my book, ‘we’ never happened, CHEERS! 🍻
I like that I have dated a few men in the past, and I’m totally grateful for the experiences with each of them ’cause they are the reason I’m a better lover today.
However, as I stated here, I have gotten to a point where I don’t derive pleasure in telling my family and friends about my partner. I mean, the number of “I really thought we would work” I’ve had sometimes makes me wonder how many more relationships I’d have before I finally find HIM.
I remember asking Dr. Tea once why God couldn’t just reveal ‘The One’ to me; his name, race, tribe, colour and all that, and spare me the headache of going through more trials. Phew!
I consider myself a very intentional being and more so when it comes to my romantic relationships. Only twice have I ever dated just for the fun of it; one was my shortest relationship ever and the other I might share someday, but after my wedding, please. T for thanks. LOL.
I’m really not one to start thinking marriage from the first day but I like to know you are someone I can settle down with if things ever got that serious between us. Hence, why I don’t date anyhow; I like to take my time, investigate, ask you a million and one questions and all that. That might explain why I’ve never had my heart broken, but why on earth have I still not gotten married, huh? What’s the point of being intentional and careful before I say yes if we still end up parting ways?
Then he came along.
Boy, is he everything I want in a man! He speaks well, dresses well, smells nice and has the brightest smile I’ve seen on any bod. He’s not that handsome, as you may already know, I do not like to date very attractive men. I honestly don’t like the stress that comes with that package. Oh, have I mentioned that we love the same kind of music? Our thoughts on issues are so similar, it’s surreal.
He makes me giggle like a school girl whose crush is complimenting. His wits are to die for and he makes me laugh out loud in the middle of the night. I’m sure my neighbours must think I’m on cheap drugs. My toes curl up whenever I’m speaking with him. This man is literally perfect for me, except he thinks spaghetti is trash.
Like what normal person dares think that about the best meal on earth! But, I really do like him, so, he gets a pass for such disrespect.
I beg to see his face while we talk on the phone because I want to know, if his face lit up when he hears my voice. Is there a sparkle in his eyes and a stamped blush on his face while we speak?
Oh such a beautiful specimen!
How I lay in bed playing back our conversations all over in my head after every call. I wonder if he does the same, but I don’t really care. I tried to guard my heart, protect it from falling before time but it gave no prior warning before it slipped. It seems my days of celibacy will soon be over. Praise Jesus!
A man in a starched white shirt tucked into a white pair of trousers waved us into the spot beside a black G-wagon in the car park of his favorite restaurant on Lagos Island. I was wearing a simple but flattering black bodycon gown that stopped right above my knees. It revealed no cleavage but it sure accentuated my beautifully toned, oiled brown-skinned legs. As we walked hand in hand into the restaurant that evening, I caught the skin on my arms glowing like they’d previously been soaked in honey.
BTW, I got that gown for N600 (less than $2) at Yaba market, but it pretty much sat on my body like it’s worth $900. I thought I smelled sweet in my mixture of two smart collection body sprays and the body mist I stole from my sisi; I don’t know the name ’cause it has faded off the bottle.
I had on my black heels I’ve had since OAU days. They were a gift from my Sugar K. My pink-red-brown-golden coloured dreads were freshly washed and oiled. I sprayed a little mist on it to mask the strong Shea butter smell. The hair wasn’t packed because they looked sexier poured down, especially when I run my fingers through them. My face was almost bare of makeup but my lips were heavily glossed.
I must say, I put in so much effort into appearing like I didn’t. After all, it was our first date.
He looked gorgeous in his blue jean trousers, faded blue jean shirt and brown sneakers. His shirt wasn’t buttoned all the way to the top, exposing a gold chain with a crucifix pendant on his neck that shone as it caught the dancing light from the chandelier above our table. He was studying me with what looked like an approving smile on his face.
His wrists were adorned with a brown wrist watch and a couple of black shambalas. His hair was a little rough, giving him an edgy look. Oh, the beards on him! Full and well groomed. Made me wonder why he didn’t comb his hair, but then I figured he knew it looked better that way. Needless to say, I was smitten.
I watched his lips as he spoke about his love for arts and music. I was smiling, nodding and mumbling, “Hmmm… Wow… That’s really nice” so he couldn’t tell I wasn’t listening to him. In reality, my mind was far gone. In my head, he had already leaned across the table that stood between us and was exploring every part of my mouth. Not caring if other people were watching. My fingers were buried in his hair and I passionately savored his tongue and lips. I wanted him to push the table away so there would be no barrier between us. I wanted more of him.
The next thing I felt was his warm palm gently tapping the back of my hand. He must have asked a question while I was there drooling about how he tasted. I blushed in embarrassment.
“Are you okay?” He asked.
I blinked, nodded and pulled my hand from under his.
“It’s late, should we leave now?”
The next few days after our first date were the most exhilarating I had ever felt. I was over the moon. Ah, finally, I’ve found the one for me. No more trials, no more exes, no more stress… I’ve finally found my Mr Right.
It felt right to start planning our wedding. Yes, I know you think that was too fast but it’s not always you find that person you are perfectly in sync with, all boxes ticked. Nah, that rarely ever happens.
I was determined to make this one work. I pictured our proposal over and again until I had every set design, every blocking, every word, every emotion and every reaction perfected. Durr… I’m no scriptwriter for nothing.
It became a natural thing to think about him during my ovulation period. I’d smile and whisper to my hormones, “Be calm, darlings. Our waiting and longing days would soon be over. We’ve found HIM. Just a little more patience”. I felt no guilt having mind-blowing sex with him in my head; after all, I will be getting married to him soon. I’ve already carried our pregnancy, gone through water birth, nursed our twins and raised a beautiful family with him -in my head.
Oh, the temptation to pick up my phone and tell my mama all about him. The urge to video call my friends so they could see how giddy I was talking about him. I’ve found my future. I’ve found rest. I’ve found the one for me.
Which was why…
It made no sense that he stopped calling me. And when he did call, he always had an excuse not to stay on the phone for long. I was confused. What happened to me being the one he’d been praying for? What happened to “I can’t live without you”, and “No one has ever made me so happy”. It made absolutely no sense.
Yet, it was all too familiar. He wasn’t the first to ghost me after I had already built my castle in the air with him.
Guess what, Stars, I am still a very single Christian. My celibacy seems to be in question because man, if I tell you the number of times I’ve had sex in my head -crazy, daring, dirty sex- I bet married people would be envious of my mental sex life. And from the look of things, I’m going to be on this journey a little longer than expected.