I never believed in love. The entire premise seemed flawed to my highly intellectual mind. It simply defied logic. How can a person claim to ‘love’ another so much that they do the most extreme things? I just thought they were stupid. Extremely irreparably stupid. I mean, you couldn’t blame me though. Life hadn’t been completely fair to me. No one ever really showed me love. The ones I tried to show love to threw it all away.
I became a bitter loveless teenager. I just wanted to graduate from school and be extremely rich and successful. I just wanted to use my influence and affluence to empower others. The thought of getting married disgusted my very existence. I wasn’t a bad person, I just never really bought the idea of love and all that it encompasses.
I would bore you with all the details, but I should probably get to my point now. I was nineteen, and in the most unlikely of ways, I met the love of my life. He was all that I imagined my ideal husband to be, before I decided not to get married, of course. Let me go into details a bit, I beg you.
He was just the right skin colour and he was taller than me just the way I liked. He talked to me and made me a better person. He made me laugh while he wiped my tears. He was from my favourite tribe in the world. He reeked of intelligence. He was all my favourite things wrapped up into one person. He was perfect, ladies and gentlemen, he was perfect! He changed my perception about everything! For the first time in forever, I thought maybe marriage wasn’t such a bad idea after all.
Some five years later, after I had finished my excruciatingly long law studies, he went to my father and he literally said he saw a beautiful flower he wanted to pluck. It was so cliche, but soooo romantic! Long story short, we were set to get married!
May 17, 2023, I was all made up and dressed up and ready to become a Mrs. My wedding was about to be all shades of lit. I was living in the euphoria of the moment when my sister, Ope, walked into the room, confusion written all over her face. She mumbled, ironically audibly, the words ‘Abdullah bailed. We can’t find him anywhere. He left a message about how he couldn’t go through with the wedding because he doesn’t think you are ‘the one’. I wanted to rip out my sister’s windpipe, partly because she was the bearer of such news, and partly because her stupid brain didn’t tell her it was wrong to break such news in front of all the people in the room.
After what seemed like a lifetime of tantrums and endless tears, I wiped my already smeared make up, put on a fake smile, and posed for the camera. I needed to capture this moment.
I needed a souvenir for my 19 year old self, just to say: ‘You were right. I got left at the altar. I finally loved again, and I got my heart crushed. I would never love again, and I mean it this time. The entire premise of love is flawed’.
Written by: FeezahWrites.
Photo Source: Google Chrome Images.