The first thing that got my attention was the way he dressed. He was always in a suit and he had a special kind of suit that he wore. Every suit of his hugged his body. It looked like he went to the designer and stood there for his measurement to be taken so the suit could be sewn to fit his personality. I liked how he looked in suits but there was nothing to it. It was like admiring a beautiful flower and yet walking away and leaving it in the park. One day he said hello. Another day we talked for a while and we hugged. Then my attention was drawn to his fragrance. He smelled like a man who was proud of his masculinity. I left his embrace and yet went away with a piece of him. I smelled like him. All day that fragrance stuck on my skin. If I cheated with him and gone home, my husband would have caught me without breaking a sweat.
He loves to hug or he loved to hug me so whenever we met and we hugged, I went through the day thinking about him. One day he proposed to me and I agreed to be his girlfriend. He wasn’t young, a man in his late thirties. I was only twenty-four and have had only two serious relationships under my belt. I didn’t even know how to love him the way mature women would love their men. I was constantly asking him, “How am I doing? Am I failing at this thing we call love? Don’t hesitate to draw my attention to my failures. I’m new at this, loving a mature man but if you tell me my mistakes, I’ll recover and do better.”
From all indications, he loved me and I loved him so much. I spent my weekends with him so I’ll get to know him better. He loved my food so I was always in the kitchen trying to wow him with food. I was his alchemy. I’ll put one and two together and he’ll call it magic. I was learning about him, what he likes, his interests and his dreams. I wanted the relationship to blossom into marriage so I was doing everything to please him and whenever I did something that made him happy, he bought me a gift and showered compliments on me. I was the only one receiving gifts in the relationship so I decided to reciprocate.
I wanted to buy him something he loves and my mind went to his perfume. I got the name, Tobacco Oud. I wrote it down so I won’t forget. I went to the shop to get it and the price they mentioned sent shivers down my spine. “All that money for such a small perfume?” I couldn’t buy it and I was happy it wasn’t a promise I made him. From that day, anytime I perceived his fragrance, the price came to my mind. I’ll tell myself, “Does he have to spray all that amount away just to smell good?” The woman in me appreciated his scent but the woman in me wasn’t ready to pay that much for a scent.
We dated for eight months and I got pregnant. I didn’t want to keep it and he didn’t want us to keep it too so we agreed to get rid of it. How to get rid of it became the bone of contention between us. He bought me a pill and I said no. “I haven’t done such a thing before so I would rather let a professional handle it than take a pill from someone whose expertise is in good perfumes and suits.” We argued. He said it’s the best drug out there. I asked how he got to know that. “Have you taken it yourself to be able to attest to its efficacy?”
I told him I wasn’t going to take it so he told me he didn’t have money to take me to the hospital. I was shocked. “You said you love me. You’re the reason I’m in this situation and you don’t care?” He didn’t bother even when I threatened him that I was going to keep it. Days later, I went back to him and told him I had the money so he should drive me to the hospital. If I spoke to a tree, I would have had better feedback than talking to him that day. He was angry that I wouldn’t take what he was offering me so he washed his hands off the issue and asked me to do what pleased me. It was the reason I went to the wrong doctor who messed up with me while I was on his table.
He didn’t know where to put what and where to extract what. I bled for days and the pain was unbearable. I called my boyfriend and told him about it. I couldn’t go to work for days. I couldn’t even sleep but each time I called him to come and see me, he never did. I called my sister and told her everything about it. She came to stay with me and that night I passed out. I woke up in a hospital with needles in my veins. The doctor said, “You’re one lucky woman. Any average woman would have died from this but you’re not average.” He asked why I did what I did and I explained everything to him and even mentioned the facility I went to do it. He said the person had to be arrested but I had no energy to do such a thing.
I spent five days at the hospital and my boyfriend never came to see me. I called his phone. I texted him. I sent him voice notes, pleading with him to at least pass by and say hello. He didn’t come. He was always busy. “Work didn’t close early today and I had so much to do that I’m knackered. Let’s see tomorrow.” Tomorrow would come and die out slowly but I’ll never see his face. Slowly I healed and the first place I visited was his place. I was angry that he left me to suffer the consequences of our sins all alone but I was ready to forgive him if he said sorry. He never did but instead, he chose that day to tell me he had a girlfriend.
“What! What are you telling me right now? So who am I to you? The girl you use and discard?”
“I’m sorry. I never thought it will come to this. It’s better you know now so it doesn’t get complicated.”
“What are you trying to tell me?”
“I’m telling you I have a girlfriend.”
“And what should I do with such information?”
“It all depends on you but I’ve told you the truth.”
I thought he was using that as an excuse to get rid of me. I couldn’t believe he had a girlfriend because I’d been with him for months and didn’t see any woman around him. I kept going and he kept giving me attitude. One day I went to his room and the walls were decorated with photos of him and the said girlfriend. There were graduation photos. There were photos of himself and his parents and the lady. They were smiling and holding each other. She wasn’t just a girlfriend. She was a fiancée, from what I saw. I left and never went back to him again. It hurt so bad but it was better to go through the hurt once than suffer every day.
I changed my bank because of him. I discarded all the gifts he bought me. All my favourite shoes were a gift from him. I gave all of them away so I wouldn’t have any memory of him. I was told that was the easiest way to move on. I deleted his messages. The photos we had together. If there was a song we used to sing, I deleted it from my phone. I was washing away everything that reminded me of him so that moving on would be easier. I blocked his line and deleted it from my phone. The days took so long to end by gradually they ended and slowly faded his memory off my mind.
A year later, I’m fine and ready to give love another chance. I’ve learned my lessons and these lessons are going to be my guiding principles. I met a guy recently. His name is Jerry. Jerry is short for Jeremiah. He’s a Christian and he comes with this calmness that feels like a revival. We are getting to know each other. We talk on the phone often and hardly meet because he’s always travelling. He proposed to me on the phone and I told him I’ll give him an answer when we meet. I met him through his junior brother so he recruited his brother to push me to accept his proposal. His brother was doing it the wrong way but I loved how he introduced me to everyone in his family as the wife of his senior brother. They heard it and they all gave me warm smiles.
We met physically a couple of weeks ago and I was ready to accept his proposal. Immediately I sat next to him I perceived his perfume and it started bringing me memories. I asked, “Tobacco Oud?” He asked, “Oh you’re a lover of perfumes too?” I shook my head. I answered, “I know this one because I know someone who uses it.” He asked, “Your brother?” I answered, “The devil.” We both laughed.
I’ve accepted his proposal and it’s as good as the beginning of every new relationship. He worships that perfume and I hate it that he loves something I want to forget. I’ve insinuated it in different ways for him to change it. He told me, “It’s my signature scent.” I told him, “You have Christ. Is he not enough to be your signature?”
I’m not ready to tell him about the stories of my ex. I would break down and it will push me away but I want him to change his perfume. I’ll be with him and would be thinking of how bad my ex did me. I try not to but bad memories are as strong as perfumes. They stick even when you want to get rid of them. I’m with him and I’m happy but somehow, he brings me bad energy because he’s carrying a piece of my ex, my demon. How do you get a guy to change his perfume? I want to buy him a new one but I’m scared he might not use it and it would be a waste of my hard-earned money.
–Annie
