I peered anxiously at my watch for the umpteenth time. In a matter of minutes, my Introduction to Biochemistry examination would start and I was not in the examination hall yet. I wanted to ask the bus driver to step on the accelerator. I had overslept into the morning. My heart raced. I could not afford to be late for the examination; the professor was terribly strict. If I arrived more than five minutes late, he’d not allow me into the hall to take the exam. I felt a streak of sweat across my forehead. Finally, the bus arrived in front of my campus. I squeezed my way to the exit and made a dash for the outside. That was when a sharp metal by the door got hold of my trousers and ripped a gaping hole in it.
My underwear was showing. I panicked and covered the hole with my hand. I could hear “oohs” and “aahs” from the other passengers who felt sorry for me. A few muffled laughs could be heard as well. I wondered how I was going to walk across campus to my examination hall. The ball of sweat on my forehead got even bigger. “If you don’t mind,” his baritone voice said as he wrapped his shirt around my waist. It felt like some kind of fashion with the nice shirt around my waist. “Thank you!” I said, my voice revealing my relief. “My pleasure,” he said. “Thank you so much!” I poured out my gratitude to him effusively. “It is my pleasure,” he reiterated.
“I am rushing to an exam now, how do I return your shirt to you?” I asked. “Here is my number; you can ring me to return it.” I quickly saved his number to my phone and made a frenzied dash for the hall. Thankfully, I arrived just in time to take my exam – which I passed very well, thankfully. The next day, I called up the guy – the Good Samaritan who had kindly offered his long sleeve shirt to help me out.
“Hi, this is Janet, the girl you helped yesterday with your shirt,” I said. “Oh, how was your exam?” “It went well really. Thanks again for being very kind. How do I return your shirt? Are you going to be on campus today?” “Yes, I will as a matter of fact. I have an exam in Education Hall at 12:45.” “I will see you in front of the hall before your exam to drop off your shirt.” “I will see you then.”
I thanked him effusively, once again, after returning his shirt. I found out his name was Nnamdi. I was in first (Biochemistry) year and he was a third year Microbiology student. He was the president of his department’s student association and perhaps the most intelligent guy in the faculty. Girls flocked to him like bees, buzzing gibberish in his ears just to get the minutest shred of his attention. Did I mention that he has got the looks? Nnamdi was a ‘stunner’. His hair glistened against a backdrop of the sun. His perfume sent you to sleep in broad daylight with your two feet planted firmly to ground. He was six feet seven inches tall with well-defined and perfectly toned muscles that spoke volumes to you when his arms moved.
Soon, we began to hang out. He’d ask me out for lunch, advise me to take my studies seriously, and help me out with just about anything. I waited for him to pop the question – will you be my girlfriend? Or will you go out on date with me? “So what is going on between you and Nnamdi” my best friend, Anulika asked me one evening. “We are just friends,” I replied. “For how long? You two have been hanging around, laughing with each other all the time and having lunch, yet he has yet to make this whole thing official? If he does not make the move, why don’t you do it?”
I had thought about that before. I had planned to invite Nnamdi to my off-campus room where I would dress in a super revealing dress; one that would make his head spin. I couldn’t quite muster the courage to do it. He seemed like my brother – my big brother or my big brother’s friend who looked after me on campus. I wanted him badly though. Each time he looked into my eyes, I felt a massive flutter in my heart. I would wake up most mornings in a funny state – you know what I mean; I dreamt of Nnamdi and I making love in my dream, just about every night. Soon, tongues began to wag on campus.
“He does not like Janet. She is not attractive enough for him.” “He has a girlfriend off-campus.” “They are probably just sleeping together, but he does not want to make it official – it is all about sex for him, but she is madly in love with him.” Those words made me mad. I grew frustrated with Nnamdi. Soon, he graduated. I began to lose hope that he and I would ever be an item. I even began to scout around for a serious guy to date.
Then, one evening he invited me over to his place. I did not expect anything. It would not be the first time he’d ask me over. In the past, I’d dress for the kill only to be terribly disappointed. When I reached his room, he told me he missed me. We had not seen each other in some weeks. Since he graduated, we saw less of each other. It was easier for me that way. He still lived in his off-campus room while waiting to sort a few things out before NYSC.
“Me too,” I replied, not quite sure how to answer him. Before I knew it, he pulled me onto the bed and began to remove my clothes. I was breathing hard even before he touched me. I felt a massive ball of tears drop from my eyes. For nearly two years, I had been waiting for this very moment. I yielded myself completely to him. That evening was pure ecstasy for me. I stayed over at his place and we made love over and over again.
In the morning, I logged onto my Facebook account and changed my relationship status from ‘complicated’ to ‘in a relationship with Nnamdi Agbo’. My phone began to buzz like a beehive. My friends wanted to get the whole gist – they were calling and texting like crazy. “So, how did it happen?” “I can’t believe he finally asked you out?” “Did you get some medicine man to give you love portion to hypnotize him eventually?” “Have you two done it? How did it feel? He is very muscular…is he that good in bed?”
Happily, I told everyone who cared to know that we were finally an item and that he had ‘crushed my melons’ – if you know what I mean. Right? After Nnamdi and I had slept, I was right in thinking that we were dating, right? Truth is, Nnamdi never really asked me out. I assumed that we were already dating and from then on, we met up for sex as regularly as possible. Every now and again, he’d take me out to dinner or lunch. I was fully in love with Nnamdi – everything in me was in love with him.
Soon, he went to youth service in Lagos. I travelled from Enugu to Lagos as often as I could. Once, the bus I was travelling on was attacked by robbers who carted away our personal belongings. I was petrified. In the end, no one was hurt. I took it all on my chin – anything for the love of my life. Nnamdi got a job with Nestle Foods after NYSC. I quickly had my uncle pull a few strings behind the scenes to have me posted to Lagos for NYSC when I left school. Finally, I didn’t have to travel to see my Nnamdi. We spent more time together. I was practically at his place all the time.
By the end of my NYSC programme, I was lucky to land a job with Cadbury – my uncle’s long legs were put to good use one more time. Life was good…or so I had thought. Nnamdi announced to me just months into my new job that he was leaving the country for the UK. “Why would you leave your well-paying job to go and hustle in the UK?” I asked him furiously. Of course, I did not want him far away from me again. I had gone through a lot to be close enough to him and now, he was moving farther away?
I tried everything I could to convince him but he would have none of it. He wanted to study further. “I will get a much better job when I am done with my studies in the UK. I got a scholarship and I don’t want it to go to waste,” he argued. I cried myself silly when he left the country. He had promised to call and email as often as possible and he was true to his word. We talked a whole lot by WhatsApp and stuff. I craved his physical touch like oxygen though.
Somehow, one year extended to two years and then three. I found myself looking around for a long term relationship – you know what I mean, something to fall back on in case Nnamdi decided to ditch me by marrying another babe in the UK, possibly a white girl. I never really quite went through with finding an auxiliary or standby date. I loved Nnamdi far too much to go through with that. Then one day, Nnamdi announced that he was returning to the country. My joy knew no bounds. I was going to get pregnant for him this time. I studied and analyzed my menstrual cycle like a PhD project. I was going to get him hooked.
“I missed you terribly,” I said when I met him at the airport. His family was there to receive him too. Finally, I got to meet his family. Things are looking official now, I thought to myself. Nnamdi is smart – he landed a job with Nigerian Breweries soon after his return to the country. I waited for the big question – will you marry me? – afterwards. You know, life was set. He had a good job and so did I. We were mature by now and ready for the vagaries of married life.
Then one Saturday night, Nnamdi called to say he had something to discuss with me. He offered to come over to my place. I had a lovely pad of my own by now. I quickly jumped into a nice dress – something fitting for the occasion – and applied makeup. I peered repeatedly at myself in the mirror to make sure I looked stunning enough. I had my cleavage hanging out! He is going to pop the big question, I convinced myself. My heart was going haywire. My hands shook and my legs could barely carry me. I sweated like a goat heading for the abattoir at Christmas.
“Janie,” he began. “I wanted to tell you that I am not sure I can continue seeing you,” he announced instead. No, he is joking, right? I could not believe my ears. It felt like a Russian bomb was detonated right in my ear. Everything around me began to spin. The couch I sat on suddenly began to swirl around as though we were in a hurricane.
“You are joking, right?” I asked him. “No, I am not.” His voice was steely – devoid of the usual warmth. “Why? What do you mean? What have I done? I waited for you all these years. I never for once…I repeat, for once had a thing to do with another guy while you were gone,” I cried. “I stared at me…his eyes were filled with pity – not love but pity. He felt sorry for me. “I never asked you to wait for me,” he said.
“What did you say, Nnamdi?” “I said I never asked you to wait for me. After all, I never really asked you out. We kind of had fun – you know, sex together. I never asked you to be my girl.” His words were like a sharp assassin’s dagger ripping my poor heart to shreds. “But…” I began, but I could not finish my statement. “All these years, you thought I was your bed mate? Your sex buddy?” “I thought you enjoyed the fun…that was all there was to it. I am sorry you feel like this. I am not in love with you, Janie.” “Why didn’t you say so from the beginning? Why did you promise to keep in touch when you travelled? So that your words…your golden voice would satisfy my sexual desires over the phone? After all, sex was all there was to our relationship. Get out of my apartment, Nnamdi!!!” I yelled at him.
I cried myself to sleep. I cried the entire week. I called in sick at work and locked myself away. Words cannot begin to describe the hurt, shame and humiliation that I felt. I had never wished anyone dead, but I did at this point in my life. I wanted to gorge Nnamdi’s eyes and feed them to him. To add insult to injury, Nnamdi proposed to one of my closest friends from University, Chiamaka a few weeks later. I had to receive medical treatment to get over the shock. I gathered that they had been in touch all the years he had been abroad. If they had been sleeping behind my back, I had no idea but it sure looks like it. How could I have been so clueless? So reckless? I am still recovering from the pains and the crushing hurt. I can tell you this, no man is getting my love any time soon…if at all ever! If they ever do…they’d probably have to declare their love for me in writing…I mean it – in black and white!!!
Narrated by Janet Okonkwo (real name withheld) and written by Victor
If you like this story, please could you share it on Facebook, Twitter, Google+, Pinterest ETC.
…also don’t forget to leave a comment on our blog, www.Blazehood.com.ng we love to read from you.