Today, I’m not disgruntled. Far from it. Today, I’m reflective, if a tad confused. I think I’m in love and it scares the shit out of me. You see, I’ve always considered myself a strong woman, albeit a romantic one, who doesn’t believe in instant love. For me love at first sight equalled lust, or, to take it up a notch, infatuation. I often rebelled against feeling mushy about a new love interest. To me, that mushy feeling is/was weakness; going on new dates, I felt I needed to have my wits about me. Men are afterall heartbreakers. So, I got to be 32 years on Earth, active on the dating scene and I have never had my heart broken, because I have never been in love. Okay, I have had my heart and pride bruised a time or two, but I have never felt so intense about a guy that if he breaks up with me I would be so morose as to call mum and weep up a bucket.
A very good friend of mine often told me that when I do fall in love I would fall like a ton of bricks. Uju, you really do know me. I fell in love at first sight and I fell hard. It was on a sunny day in October, Nigerians were celebrating our independence from colonialism; I saw him smiling at me and my heart literally skipped and my tongue suddenly got tangled with my teeth amidst an ocean of saliva. I believe I stuttered. I cannot remember what I said. I don’t know if I said anything articulate in those first few minutes. He must’ve wondered what was wrong with me. Suddenly, I was conscious of my modest skirt and long jacket. I should’ve dressed sexy, I berated myself. Forgetting that I don’t have sexy attires in my wardrobe, because I like to be taken seriously. I spent the date talking what I cannot now remember, while rejoicing inwardly and thinking “he’s the one”, “God, let this be my last bus stop (in Nigerian speak)”. A man I barely knew and I was already envisioning 50 years with him. How fickle the heart is! Sigh!
So, when he asked me out at the end of the evening, I jumped and shouted “yes” inwardly, even as I said I have to check my schedule and get back to him. What schedule! I was so tied up inside I was inventing schedules. Fast forward to 3 weeks, We’ve been on 8 fantastic dates (who’s counting?) and I still go starry eyed thinking about him. And I wonder what it is in particular that have me dreaming about this guy and has me telling my mum how I met a guy I like (never been done by me). Maybe, it’s the long, dark hair tied back like Tarzan, or the confident way he strides towards me, or the charming way he has of making me feel adored, or the easy way he has that makes me spill my guts while talking to him. Whatever it is, dear diary, it is exhilarating and scary as hell.
I’ve tried to tell myself it’s a passing fancy, an infatuation, but then I find myself languishing in loneliness, with bated breath, waiting for his call or text. As if that isn’t bad enough, I find myself googling signs that he digs you. Really! I cannot remember ever feeling this strongly about a guy before, and that feeling scares the bullocks out of me, because for the first time in my life a man has the power to break my heart. And how loudly it will break!