I dated a man. He was strong, handsome, unique, interesting. He also had a baby mama, who he says is alright with his bisexuality. I guess she was, until I came into the picture.
He introduced me to her when he and I first started dating. She smiled at me and said hi. She shook my hand, and then we danced together. It was a party, and her friends were there too. They kept staring at me and talking amongst themselves. I wasn’t comfortable with that, being the new boyfriend suffering the distant dissection of my beau’s ex female love interest. But it was a party. So I kept on drinking and dancing.
And then, as I got comfortable in my relationship, she got less comfortable with me being around. There was drama. There was hate. And there were children involved. It broke my heart that she was using their children as a weapon to drive a wedge in between me and my beau. The entire brewing mess affected me in ways I thought wasn’t possible. I wanted the best for my man as much as I wanted him with me, but then I loved the way his eyes shone when he talked about his kids. Before the drama. Before the mess.
And so, my two-year relationship ended gradually, first with him not taking my calls or calling back, to not being intimate whenever he eventually replied my pings on BBM. And then, he finally raptured himself from my contact list and blocked me on whatsapp. The disintegration of this beautiful thing wreaked an ugliness in my heart. There was no goodbye. There was no time. He was simply here now, and the next, he was gone. It has been a month since the end. I have shed tears that won’t stop streaming. My mind with the two-year worth of memories it bears has refused to stop hounding my heart and thoughts.
I still don’t know what to feel about him not saying goodbye, about him not preparing me for the end. But here are a few words I’d like him to know and understand:
‘Boo-boo, I have missed you tons. I miss playing with that shock of thick hair you loved wearing in an afro. I miss how you bite your lip and smile at me. I miss when we had our tickle battles, how I lose to your strength when we struggle.
‘And I am sorry too. I’m sorry I seldom wore my emotions on the sleeve. I’m sorry I didn’t often fight back or argue passionately with you when it was clear you were aching for some drama. I’m sorry about the day I declined coming over to cater to you when you were ill. Rita was hovering, and I didn’t want to deal with her shit. I realize now I shouldn’t have let that stop me.
‘And I’m sorry I didn’t give you reasons to stay with me.
‘Truthfully, I wish you’d ditch her toxicity, cut off with her and be with me. But I can’t imagine you not having that spark in your eyes when you talk about your kids, because I know cutting her out of the picture would mean dealing with a loss of your children.
‘And so, I want you to know that I wish you the ultimate best. I want the sun to be jealous when you smile every day, and the galaxy of stars to envy the bedcovers you hug to your skin when you sleep at night. I hear you are mending your relationship with Rita. If she makes you happy, then I wish you two and your children a lifetime of happiness. Even if it kills me that you have not found that happiness with me, I shall strive to be content with the fact that you have it.
Written by Polly