Finishing high school at 19 years of age in Nigeria with a record of not entering into any relationships was a big achievement. Yeah, I was the godly one, and having a girlfriend was not something I looked forward to.
Barely a year after high school, I had been delayed from gaining admission into college because our West Africa Examination Council (WAEC) results were unavailable. Staying home was boring, especially since my high school was in a different state; hence, I took turns to visit my other two colleagues, who are males, and the third, a female, was seldom visited for obvious reasons.
On that particular day, the sun had begun to withdraw on the distant horizon, my steps were more relaxed, and my clothes were casual as I trekked to visit Tunde (not the real name), whose house was about ten minutes walk from mine. Engaging a cab or motorcycle was an unnecessary luxury I could not afford. Walking halfway through my usual route, I heard an excited shout of my name.
"James! James! ! Is that you?" A sweet voice called out from within a shop along the street I walked through. I turned in the direction of the voice to see a familiar face, beaming with her set of white teeth, contrasting her very dark skin. She looked bigger than me, though our heights were almost the same.
"Dolapo (not her real name)?" I called back as I made my way to the other side of the street.
"Yes, it's me, Dolapo Badmus!" She said, throwing her arms for an embrace.
The truth is that I remembered she was my basic school colleague, but at that point, I was a bit unsure of her name, and my memory of basic school wasn't so sharp. We caught up on basic school talk, mentioned the names of some classmates and where this or that person was, and had a lot more fun. We exchanged contacts, and I ended up passing through that route more often; occasionally it was purposeful. Of course, relationship talks were also discussed, and she was amused that I had never been in a relationship (well, for her, she had a few in the past but was single as of when we talked).
And boom! That was how she became my first girl friend. I was a bit excited to have finally gotten myself a girl; however, a part of me still lived and missed the luxury of singlehood. We spent some time together, and it was on one of those occasions that I got my first kiss (I was a novice, and so she initiated it), which sparked several connections in me, heightening my hormones to begin to desire more, which was tantamount to the good boy that I had always been. This was the stage at which I began to wonder if I truly loved her or was in the relationship for the fun of it. I must admit that I was terrible at almost everything and equally boring. Not long after, I got admitted to college, and the relationship began to seem like a burden to me.
Less than six months into the relationship, I was tired already, but it took me almost a year before I could break the news to her because I was scared of hurting her. She practically dragged me through the relationship, and I felt guilty for giving her hope. There was nothing tangible as an excuse other than that I had my career to pursue (I was a medical student then) and relationships were going to hinder rather than propel me.
"I thought you were my last bus stop!" Dolapo wailed over the phone, shortly before her best friend called me to fight for her friend's relationship.
The whole drama seemed exaggerated to me, probably because it was my first relationship and I was the logical being compared to Dolapo, who saw me as her final stop. Much later, my policies were tendered, and we related as friends.
Some years later, she got married to another man, and of course, I shamelessly graced the occasion to eat rice. Today, she's happily married with a kid, I think, and lives outside Nigeria with her spouse, while I am here with you on the hive, still in Nigeria and living unmarried.