Life has its path and modus operandi, different from all our imagination's fantasies and beautiful machinations. Sometimes it gives us sour grapes when we expect sweet-tasting and nutritious fruits. It doesn't care about the fallacies that our eyes send down the feeble and impressionable template of our minds. So much so that when the reality dawns on us, we're not ready for the sometimes monumental shock that accompanies it.
I was maybe young and naive, still basking in the euphoria of being given admission into college. I usually walked the school block with pride, my head held high, my chin refined, with a proud spring in my steps. It was a character-refining, and future-defining process that I wasn't going to let anyone or anything distract me from.
I went to class on time, and gave the lecturers rapt attention, even though I still gave the odd girls glancing looks without really paying attention to them.
"I'm here to study and graduate with my first class" I usually assured myself just to remind me to stay on course and never deviate. But still, I couldn't avoid the odd glances here and there at the beautiful creatures that God thought worthy of gracing the earth with. The creature called woman.
I had taken many glances without getting stuck, I had been called "a puffed chicken" because I refused to give attention to people, but I cared little about all these quiet attacks, and gave no ears to them. But that was up until Betty came into the picture. Or should I say, up until I captured Betty and let her into my imagination.
Betty has always been there, she was even a colleague of mine, attending the same lectures, and sharing the same classrooms every day, but just as I cared very little about their presence, she cared very little about mine too - unlike the others. She was calm, soft-spoken, intelligent, impeccably mannered, respectable, and seemingly Godly. But she wasn't what the average man or woman would call "beautiful".
I only conversed with her once, but that was enough to take me on a merry-go-round that I've never recovered from. She was friendly, her smile was dull but homely. I felt like I was being sucked into her bosom with every second that passed. Unlike her fellow ladies, she spoke very little - only when it mattered -, paid attention and cared very little about the raving vanities that seemed to consume her much more physically gifted gender.
After that first conversation I was stuck on memory lane, my thoughts continuously spinning back to her dull smile and kind words. For the first time, I was consciously turning my attention to her, continually looking forward to seeing her and crafting opportunities to talk to her. I knew I might be getting into trouble, but I couldn't help it because I weirdly loved the thought of it.
Eventually, I decided to take the next step and ask her out. Her reply pierced through the depths of my soul, my heart leaped into my mouth but I couldn't stand the taste because it tasted like vinegar.
"I have to admit it, I love you, but I'm sorry dear I can't date you. I've been hurt before and I'm scared. I don't want to be hurt in this school, I might lose my head and purpose of being here". Those were her words that seemed to crash my life.
I knew and understood her situation, but at the same time, my heart wouldn't settle for less. So I kept pressing on subtly without rushing it at her. Eventually, she caved and there it was, the beginning of my sorrows.
I thought I understood what she meant by "fear", but as I found out, I did not. It came with a truckload of jealousy and insecurities. I was banned from talking to any lady in her absence, not even her best friends. Neither was I allowed to be anywhere without her knowledge.
Being a free man that I was, I couldn't keep up and I was given very little time to adjust. And that's where the real problem started. She kept breaking up with me every two days. My heart became like a playing field, constantly stomped on, with its serenity uprooted like the grass on a football field.
It took its toll on me and I couldn't concentrate anymore. Eventually, it reflected on my result and I produced my worst result in school that semester. It was a disaster, but still my heart still wanted what it wanted and I stuck with her irrespective of the torture.
My first class dreams were slaughtered on the altar of love. But even today - when we're no more together - I don't regret any of it. She's still the most beautiful woman I've ever known. Beauty in the true sense of it, and not the physical vanities. She just had her flaws and I was ill-prepared for it. If I had another chance, I would still pick her.
