For The Lover That I Lost 💔

I started writing this article last February, and with the emotional turmoil I was in then, I got overwhelmed and closed the draft after two paragraphs. A little over a week ago, I remembered my promise to be a monthly contributor on this website, so I randomly started scrolling through my drafts looking for inspiration. It led me here.

If I were to pick one word to characterise my love life up until this moment, I would call it tumultuous. It is one big pot of pepper soup which explodes in your face just as you are about switch off the flame. The sting is everywhere. In your eyes, nostrils, mouth and the entirety of your skin feels like it’s on fire. You dive into the shower and let the water run for a while, but the stinging sensation does not cease. You are scared to touch anything because you fear you will make it worse. At the same time, you need to touch because you feel like a thousand soldier ants are biting you everywhere. You need more cool water on your skin; however, you live in Lagos, it is March, and the national grid is down. The sun has taken you as an opp and become your personal water heater.

While I can cast blame and point fingers everywhere else, I cannot deny that maybe sometimes, I turned the flame too high because I was too impatient. It did not help that the pot I was using was that transparent glass one that everyone on Instagram has been complaining about. Now all I’m left with is a huge mess in my kitchen that I have to clean up despite the pain everywhere. Oh, and a healthy fear of making peppersoup. Now, I have to rely on vendors or my friends to satisfy my craving.

Ultimately, I believe we are a sum total of both the people who have loved us and those whom we’ve loved. I see myself as a fly trap where bits and pieces of people in my life stick to me. This is why I’m very protective of my boundaries and space. Because of my ego, I like to believe that I rub off on them also. I love hearing my friends, family, and even partners mirror me - especially in speech or mannerisms. I believe I am like grief, unyielding and demanding that my presence is felt.

I’m of the belief that anyone I lost in my past was just not destined for my future, and that’s perfectly fine. This has helped me get over breakups, both friendship and romantic, faster. It doesn’t eradicate the mourning period, as I do grieve what we had for a while. However, the duration is never too long, and I create mental memorials of the good memories.

My playlist is ridden of songs that past lovers put me on because they reminded them of me. I’ll forever listen to Best Part by H.E.R and Daniel Caesar with the softest smile on my face. I truly understand people not listening, visiting, eating or spraying certain things that remind them of situations they are trying to forget about. Sadly, I’m the opposite.

I’m that person who immerses herself in the memories because they are reminders of the fact that I’m human and my feelings were real. Regardless of how things ended and how badly I was hurt, I’ll wear the clothes I took from you, play the sweet music you put me on, spray that perfume that you loved and continue with my life. I will always choose to remember people for the good that they showed me, no matter how little or short-lived it was. I absolutely refuse to stop loving and doing the things I have grown attached to because of some wrong twists.

Lately, I’ve spent more time than usual in the past. I’ve been reminded more often than I’d like to admit that I have had some pretty epic love stories and meet cutes which would rival a lot of romance novels. I am reminded that even though we were wrong for each other, I have had people hold my heart in their hands like it was the most priceless and beautiful thing in the world… then they let it fall to the ground. I used to believe that anyone who had and then lost me cheated themselves out of one of the greatest gifts of their lives. On a general note, I would say that statement still rings true. However, as a slightly more mature adult, I have now come to realise that sometimes things end and that’s just life.

As February is the month of love, I thought it befitting to write an ode to the friends and partners who are no longer in my life. Regardless of whose fault it is, I wish you all of the love God invested in heaven. I hope you found what you were searching for. If you haven’t, don’t give up. The end is near. Thank you for the experience you gave me- the good, bad, ugly and the “always driving me insane”. It was the chisel that shaped me into the woman I am now. There’s still no space for you, but if you ever get to read this, know that I’m rooting hard for you. Losing me as a friend or partner does not mean gaining an enemy but instead, a distant fan. I am rooting for your happiness as much as I cheer for mine. We might sit at different tables now but all the dreams and secrets you shared with me? Safe with me…and my sister.

Toodles!