“It’s just like another regular day, every month has a 14 in its calendar, so tomorrow is no different. There’s nothing special about it.”
I’ve said that to myself five times today.
Five.
Yes, I’ve been counting because if I don’t count, I’ll count something else. Like how many girls my ex cheated on me with. Or how many times Daniel has said, “Baby, soon,” whenever I bring up anything that costs money.
And yes, before you judge me, I know. I have a boyfriend. That’s the funny part.
The first reel I saw this morning, because God forbid I wake up in peace, was that stupid “Valentine is coming, where is your boyfriend” song. Immediately I hissed. Not because I don’t have a boyfriend. But because… do I?
Daniel exists, yes. He calls me every night. He sends voice notes that are too long and too soft. He tells me he misses me even when we just saw each other. He’s consistent.
He’s just… not enough. And that sounds wicked.
At work, it’s worse. “Vanessa, what’s your plan tomorrow?” Adanna asked me during lunch, her wig shining like she personally imported love from Turkey.
“It’s Saturday,” I said, stabbing my rice like it offended me. “I’ll rest.”
“Ah-ah. Don’t whine us. Daniel must have something planned.”
Must.
I shrugged. “It’s not that deep.” But it is.
Because tomorrow is Valentine’s Day and I am dating a good man who cannot afford to love me the way I want. That sounds evil too. But let me explain.
Daniel is 24. I am 28. Four years is not plenty until you’re the one paying for Uber every time you want to see your man.
He’s still “figuring it out.” NYSC done, small tech internship, big dreams, zero balance. He talks about startups and vision and “when things click.” And I nod because I like ambition. I really do.
But ambition does not buy flowers. Ambition does not plan dinner reservations. Ambition does not even recharge data sometimes. And I hate myself because why is that what matters? Maybe because I have done suffering before.
My ex, Sylvester, was a serial cheater with audacity. The kind that cheats and then says you’re insecure for finding out. I stayed three years. Three solid years of tears, passwords, and pretending I was not slowly shrinking.
When I finally left, I promised myself the next man would be safe. Daniel is safe. Too safe. He looks at me like I’m the best thing that has ever happened to him. And maybe I am. Which is the problem. Because I did not enter this relationship healed. I entered it tired.
There’s a difference.
I met Daniel at my cousin’s birthday dinner in Akure. He was quiet. Observant. When he spoke, it was thoughtful. He laughed at my dry jokes. Not the fake “ha ha” men do when they want your number. Real laughter. I liked that.
He texted first and consistently. No games. After Sylvester, consistency felt like luxury. So I said yes, at the time, I'm not gonna lie, I enjoyed the young love, the chase and the little butterflies in my belly.
Well, valentine’s Eve. That’s today. Daniel called in the afternoon.
“Babe,” he said, excitement leaking through the phone. “Are you free tomorrow evening?” My heart did something stupid. It jumped.
“Why?” I tried to sound bored.
“I just… I want to see you.”
See me.
See.
“Okay,” I said. “Where?”
“Uhm… I was thinking maybe I could come to your place?”
Of course. Of course that’s what he was thinking.
I live alone in Lekki. He stays with two other guys in a cramped apartment in Bariga. Of course my place is the option. It always is.
“That’s fine,” I said.
Pause.
“And… baby,” he continued, voice softer, “I don’t really have money for anything big right now. But I’ll make it special.”
There it is. The disclaimer. I swallowed. “It’s not that deep.”
I keep saying that.
After we hung up, I sat on my bed and stared at the ceiling fan rotating like it was mocking me. Why am I disappointed? He didn’t promise me roses. He didn’t promise me dinner at some rooftop in VI. He didn’t promise me anything.
I know I'm not like one of those girls that depend on men for money for basic things, so why does it feel like something is missing?
Later that evening, my friend Nella came over uninvited. She does that, lol, I wouldn't have it any other way though. She flung herself on my couch, scrolling through her phone. “Men are posting pre-Val gifts already. God abeg.”
I laughed. “You and who?” She narrowed her eyes at me. “You’re too calm. What did Daniel plan?”
I told her. She didn’t even try to hide her face.
“Vanessa.”
“What?”
“You’re not happy.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re lying.”
I hate when she does that.
She sat up. “You don’t even like him like that.”
“I do.”
“You like that he doesn’t stress you.”
Silence.
“That’s not the same thing,” she added.
I looked away.
The truth is ugly. I like Daniel because he worships me a little. Because after Sylvester made me feel replaceable, Daniel makes me feel chosen.
But when he talks about future, it’s all theory. No structure. No solidity. And I am tired of building men. I don’t want to be someone’s stepping stone to greatness. I want to rest in someone’s already-built house.
♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ Valentine’s Day. ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎
I woke up annoyed at nothing. No good morning text yet. I checked the time. 7:12am. Relax.
By 8:03am, he texted.
“Good morning baby ❤️ Happy Valentine’s Day.”
I rolled my eyes at the heart and smiled at the same time. I hate that I’m like this.
Daniel arrived at 6:20pm. He looked nervous. Cute. Holding a nylon bag. A nylon bag. Inside was a small teddy bear and Dairy Milk chocolate.
“I know it’s small,” he said quickly. “But I....” “It’s fine,” I cut in. And I meant it.
That’s the worst part. I meant it. Because I know his account balance probably cried purchasing that.
We ordered small chops. Watched Netflix. He kept looking at me like he was waiting for approval.
“Are you happy?” he finally asked.
There. That question. Am I?
He is kind. He is loyal. He tries. But I feel like I am dating potential. And I am almost 30. Potential is cute at 22.
He rested his head on my lap. “I’m going to do big things, Vanessa,” he murmured. “I just need time.”
Time. Hmmm. I’ve given time before. Three years to a man who cheated publicly and still had confidence. Now I am giving time to a man who is good but not ready.
What about me? When do I get someone who is already ready?
He fell asleep like that, on my lap, trusting. And something in me cracked. Because he deserves someone who looks at him and sees enough. Not someone calculating.
I gently moved his head and stood up.
“Daniel,” I said softly. He blinked awake. “Hmm?”
“We need to talk.” He sat up immediately. “What’s wrong?”
Everything and nothing.
I took a deep breath. “You’re amazing.” His face fell instantly. He knows that tone.
“But…”
“Vanessa.”
“I don’t think this is fair.”
“To who?”
“To you.”
He stared at me like I had slapped him.
“I’m not fully here,” I admitted. “I thought I was. But I’m not. I entered this because I was hurt. And you’ve been… safe. But you deserve someone who isn’t using you to forget someone else.”
Silence filled the room.
“And,” I added, because if I’m going to be wicked, let me be complete, “we’re not in the same place. You’re building. I respect that. But I’m tired of waiting for men to become.”
His jaw tightened. “So it’s money.”
“It’s not just money.”
“But it’s money.”
I didn’t answer. He laughed once. Not funny.
“I love you,” he said.
And that broke me. Because I love him too, just not the way he deserves.
“I care about you,” I whispered.
“That’s not the same.”
I nodded.
We stood there, two people who are not bad, just badly timed. After he left, carrying his empty nylon bag, I sat on the floor and cried. Because I lost him, a man who could have been potentially good for me. But there's that word again.....potentially.....
♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎
The next morning, I woke up single. And weirdly lighter. My chest stung a little bit but, there was no boyfriend to disappoint me. No expectations to manage. Just me.
Lara called.
“So? How was it?”
“We broke up.”
She screamed. “On Valentine’s Day?? Vanessa you’re mad!”
I started laughing. Proper laughing. The kind that shocks you.
“Maybe,” I said. “But at least now, when that stupid song plays, I can say I don’t have a boyfriend. Clean slate.”
She hissed. “You’re chaotic.”
I lay back on my bed, staring at the ceiling again. Maybe the universe doesn’t hate me. Maybe I just keep choosing lessons instead of love.
Either way, next Valentine, I’m either with a man who can afford roses… Or I’m buying them for myself.
THE END
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In response to The Inkwell Combined Writing Prompt #19 ~ Fiction or Creative Nonfiction. All images are from Gemini AI.
Thank you for reading. 🧡
