Posted in TALL TALES


Quotes on first love
First love

I remember how elated I felt when I finally found my passion: serving people. Before then, I was living my life as circumstances demanded. My parents worried a lot. Is this what I was going to be doing for the rest of my life?

Now, I am not so sure. Do I really want this? I have never wanted much from the world. I just want to be happy. I want a life filled with happiness and love and laughter. That’s all I ask myself before I do anything. Would this bring me happiness? My life has always been like that – uncomplicated, until now.

Bolu has been a part of my life since we met in the university. He was a huge part of my life even before we started talking. He remained a huge part of my life when we started talking, and now, he is something like my better half. It has been fifteen years – Fifteen years of coasting along, fifteen years on the rocky trail of self discovery, yet no destination in sight. Initially, it was a matter of unrequited love. There were two years of worshiping glances, erratic pulses, quickened heartbeats and a crushing crush – two years to water the seeds of love, nourish the soil of friendship and feed the demons of physical attraction, two years to mature, to increase in knowledge and understanding and the two years that finally set everything in motion.

Friendship was the greatest gift of all. He was a friend. We talked about everything. At least, I told him everything. I hid nothing from him. I loved him. That is true. It was different from the way I felt about other boys, and my other friends. I had a feeling called Bolu. It was simple like that. I never doubted it or questioned it. And then time happened. There were three years; three years of separation. He was near, yet he was far away. He was a shadow, so close, yet out of reach. Three years to overcome the crush, three years to discern our true feelings, three years to leave behind fantasies and face real life, three years to make hard choices, three years to become a very beautiful woman, three years to love from a distance, three years to be heartbroken and three years to watch him become his own man.

We grew apart, but it was still the same for me. He made me a promise. He would come back to get me. We would have real fun and do fancy things together. Ten years later, he is still fulfilling that promise. Except now, I am not very sure. I look at his face as I sit across him in our favourite restaurant at the Leisure Mall. I love Barcelos. I like the Hamburger and the Veri-Peri Sauce and Bolu is great company but I am not so sure anymore. He is looking at me, like he has always looked at me – like we are the only two people left on earth and he is seeing me for the first time.

‘How is it going at the Governor’s office?’ I smile as I launch into various ideas I have been having for the Governor’s re – election. We have like a year before elections, but I was bursting with ideas. It was like that for me, helping people with their dreams. It was like that when Bolu became a youth pastor at his church. I was there: praying, fasting, seeking God’s face, suggesting programmes, organising house fellowships, workers in training and all that. I was a journalist during the weekdays, pastor’s wife (girl friend/best friend) at night. When Shola bought a KFC franchise, I was there. When Ifeoma opened her boutique, I sold with her for the first six months. People would agree though that I had the Midas touch, everything I touch literally turned to gold. Between Bolu and the Governor’s office, there was little time for anything else. And that’s when things started changing.

Right now, I feel like a fraud. When I say my life is about service, I know people think Mother Theresa. I can be Mother Theresa like some times, but I know it has to do with politics. I am not devious or scheming and people sometimes mistakenly refer to me as meek. With the three years I have spent serving the Governor, I know my way around people and things. The fact that people under-estimate me gives me the upper hand all the time. I am looking at Bolu and wishing that things were not changing so fast. I don’t know when I say it.

‘I am going to become the next commissioner for tourism and intergovernmental relations.’ He drops his chicken. ‘Wow! I am so proud of you. I have been praying a lot for you’. That’s Bolu for you – sweet. I feel the sincerity and warmth and love pouring forth from him as he gets up to hug me. I am so tense and I can’t relax even in his hug. He takes a deep breath when he returns to his seat.

‘I know you were probably worried about telling me because of church, especially now that I have gotten the calling to begin my ministry.’ He pauses as he lets this sink in. ‘I have been dying to tell you, but I wanted to wait till I get the leading of the Holy Spirit. I don’t want you to worry yourself about the future. God is enough for us, okay? We will be just fine.’ Will we? I twist my engagement ring, we are getting married in five months. He is going to start his own ministry, and I am taking a big step into what would hopefully be a political career. Am I ready for this?

‘Bolu, I am so worried. Will this work out? This is the first time I am chasing something for my self. I don’t know… Oh God! I didn’t even pray about it or anything. I just said yes and Party chairman was like…’ I am sobbing now. ’Bolu, I love you a lot … and I don’t want to jinx anything…’ Bolu is holding me close now. ‘ Shhh … relax. You’ve always hated politics, yet you play the game perfectly by its rules. I believe God’s purpose for you will come to fruition. I love you too, but we have to stick together on this one. I am trusting God for you… for us.’

I thought I had to choose between Bolu and myself. Initially, I planned to drop the engagement ring and walk away. I couldn’t do it. But now, I see clearly. I deserve this happiness. I have a feeling, it is Bolu.

P.S This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance with true scenarios, events or occurrences or persons is a mere coincidence.




A world changer who tells the stories that deserve to be told. Fiction may sometimes be real.

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