I had never thought too deeply about what my first love was going to look like or be like. All I knew was that when the time came, I would have this tingly feeling in my belly and I would feel like I was walking on rainbows. So when I started to feel all these things for him, I was all too certain he was my “One”.

He was prefect. My favorite part of him was his tongue. Not for the reasons you think, you pervert! It was wrapped in sugar and thrust in butter. He knew the right words to say at every point in time.

He was kind, patient, understanding…My tall glass of beautiful red wine.

And yes!, he was a beauty to behold. Tall, light skinned, brownish blue eyes or contact lenses. I was too smitten to tell.

Although I was 22, I had never had a boyfriend before. Mom always said “No kissing, no touching and no smooching”, which I had translated to mean no boyfriends. Plus, it didn’t help that I attended an all girls High School where the next best thing to an actual boy was a tomboy, which was not my thing. Hence, my non-existent relationship resumé.

I was the textbook good girl; never smoked,never drank,maintained a healthy body count of zero. Just a simple young girl with a lovely smile and sparkly teeth- a little narcissistic too – who happened to have met a boy she really liked and hoped he liked her too.

I was taught not to ask people for stuff, so I wasn’t the demanding type. Well, I should rephrase. I was not materialistic but was sometimes seen as emotionally demanding. I wouldn’t ask for shoes and bags and fancy items, but whenever we were together, I requested for his undivided attention.

Which I personally don’t think was too much to ask.

It was my very first relationship, so I needed it to work. I was one of the “I must marry the first guy I date” girls. I mean, if “Lagbaja”  and “Tamodu” could do it, surely I could pull it off.

I couldn’t be more naive!

Two months after my belly first tingled, we had our first fight.

I had told him the golden rule before our relationship began- “no sex till marriage”. My non-existent relationship resume was not because I wasn’t pretty, far from it, I would like to think. It was more because I had taken the scriptural “flee fornication” rather literally. Also, the “flee all appearance of evil”- as I strongly believed beautiful men were embodiment of evil… So I fled!

Mr. “Tingles” had wanted to get all cuddly and physical with me, but I politely reminded him of the golden rule and slowly backed away. For some reason, he wasn’t having it that day and went into a rage!

He started yelling about how he cared about me and that was one of the ways he could show it, and how I was childish, difficult and selfish.

Without warning his sweaty palm had grazed the side of my tender right  cheek. 

For the first few seconds following the slap, I felt nothing. I racked my brain quicky, Mom had touched all topics save this one.

What was I to do when a guy hit me? He was way bigger than me so hitting him back was not an option. So I sat as quietly as I could, fighting back the hot tears that were struggling to set themselves free. He was sweating profusly, his eyes were blood shot red, his hands were trembling.

I had never been so afraid in my life.

He moved closer  and held my gaze, I could feel his fat fingers closing gently around my slender neck. I felt a slight itch in my throat.  I tried to swallow but I couldn’t. It was then I felt his grip tighten. I struggled in vain. He held my gaze still, as if he was looking into my soul while snuffing the life out of me, I had never seen him so angry before.

He was consumed by rage. He blinked not once, his heartbeat racing…or maybe it was mine.  

I wouldn’t know. By now the tears had let themselves out. After a while, it felt less and less painful.

I stopped fighting. I was almost certain the end had come.  

Then someone knocked at his door.

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