“HER”
…I saw her, I liked her and soon I fell for her. She had her charms – adorably beautiful with a slender but acutely curvy physique. Her anatomy wasn’t solely what was admired but so was her behavioral patterns. She was lovable and endearing to most. A not-so-loud person (which is typically a girlish thing). It wasn’t outright surprising as it transpired, her parents and family at large were devote Christians; a not-so-wealthy family but a happy and contented one though. Hence, I could relate. These, holistically, made her desirable and a sought after.
In due time, I’d filled her in as regards my feelings. This was somewhat easy as she was a neighbour – one I was quite acquainted with. I’d hoped, optimistically that soon enough, she would reciprocate the gesture. But rather, she was indifferent. She fondly called me “Bro” which in full length means “Brother”. To be sincere, I never quite liked her calling me this – nothing wrong with it though. But who really wants to be a “Bro” to someone you hoped would be a girlfriend? I wish she had viewed me differently.
I grew dissatisfied about the whole issue. Could it be her church doctrines forbade such a relationship (and she chose to walk in line with it) or maybe she’s already seeing someone or might be she’s just isn’t cut out for it. I couldn’t tell. I pestered her seeking to know why wouldn’t she have me as her boyfriend. After a while, she eventually did manage to stutter a reply. “Give me some time” she said. My heart raced. “If I exercise patience and give her some space she could ‘comply’” I thought. I read from books as much as I heard from hearsays that it is inherently placed within them – the females – the ability to feel and/or have affection for someone they hitherto didn’t. The prerequisite though, would be that the bloke concerned, keeps on with the ‘goods works’ – calling and/or sending SMSs, buying petty gifts and paying visits to mention a few. On this premise, I’d decided to give her all the time in the world. She never asked for gifts (but she received them nonetheless) as I made efforts to send them through oftentimes when passing by her home – all for the ultimate price of winning her heart.
Sadly, it wasn’t to be. As it turned out, she just didn’t feel much for me. Not all the tea in China could change anything about that – it seemed. Negative emotions of bitterness and resentment surfaced. A part of me felt like giving up the pursuit and I did. Now, I could attest (in hindsight) that she was the very definition of what folks call ‘a lost cause’!
Culled from my novella “The Last Four Years”.