An Ode to the Men I’ve Loved-4

To the first seed of Odukoya.
I did not want to write about this person, because a part of me feels pain. Not for what he did, oh he did absolutely nothing, but for what I did. Not to him as much as I did to myself.

To the man whose beauty held me spellbound.
I had always, before him, prided myself as an expert in all things fine men, until this human crossed my line of vision at a wedding. Lord, I was enthralled. I stared, swallowed saliva and did all the things written by Wattpad authors when a handsome man is seen. I did it all.

To the man who did the most.
Oh, I am smiling as I write this because this man did the very most. He would make me laugh, the watch me laugh. We had long conversations, even when I hated phone calls, I did not mind staying on phone with him, each conversation was reassuring, calm, perfect.

To the man who was unashamed.
This was my favourite part of him. How eager he was to hold my hands in public, hold close at malls, kiss me in the middle of Maryland mall in Lagos, snake his hands behind me, grabbing my waist as I took pictures at Miniso store mirrors. He was more than willing to show me off. He would hold my waist while we walked the streets of Ikeja Gra. He would take me to that bridge connecting Maryland mall to Leventis and he would kiss me. He was willing to show me off to the entire world. He was not ashamed of being in love with me.

To the man who was willing to help
Always, never a time we did not speak about my struggles that he did not offer to help. Even when he could not help me, he still wanted to, he was eager to.

To the photographer who captured my broken pieces.
He would always say “Abigail, let me fix you”, and I would smile because I knew that he could not. I was not ready to fix myself, any attempt he made will be futile. He captured so many pieces of me and tried to piece them all together, and he watched me as piece by piece I crumbled again and again.

To the one I cut with my sharp edges
Hurt people hurt people. I cut this one with the sharp edges from my brokenness, and he did not mind. He will wipe his bleeding skin with a tissue and run back into the chaos that I was. Oh, I hurt this one. For every time I hurt him, I lost a piece of me. I became the demon I was trying not to be.

To the one who showed me love could be consistent.
Babatunde, you taught me that boring love was good love. That love could be consistent and not taking me on a roller coaster. You taught me that love could be gentle, kind, forgiving, beautiful, and unashamed.
He was here, loving, caring, being. He never left. Until he did.

To the one who I wish I had met at a different time.
My heart was not ready when you came, Fish. It was far gone into a place I was not ready to pull it out from. Never think I did not love you, Oh! I did. I did love you, I loved you very much. And I pray the universe sends someone like you my way again, but only when I am ready. If I have to watch another you walk out of my life, it would be that I am cursed.

I wish you all the happiness in the world. I hope love never leaves you. I hope you laugh more often.

Gail.