CHRISTMAS DATING
Episode 1
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My phone rang, I took the call, and Christmas that year became the womb of a new experience for me.
Jojo was his name. Joseph, actually. I gave him the nickname Jojo because he was a sweet and romantic guy.
We first met earlier that same year. I was at a friendโs birthday party. He was sitting a bit farther away from my table, looking my way all the night. Then he walked over to my table.
โIโd pay any price to sit next to this astonishing beauty.โ He said softly, sipping from his glass of wine immediately.
Thatโs how it always begins. That was my thought. I didnโt utter a word. I wanted to, but I was too stiff, too unwilling.
I looked at him again without saying a word. I wanted to sit him down and give him a thousand reasons why I never wanted any man close to me ever again. I wanted him to listen as I tell him stories about every single man that stepped in and out of my life as though life was such a game of entrance and exit.
I wanted him to see through my eyes, to see the many nights I sat in my flood of tears, to see the pain that came from men like himself, clutching my heart, to read the bold cancelation I had made of love the moment my last boyfriend walked out of my life without looking back.
I wished I had words to say to his face that I was done with loving any manโs son ever again. But the words wouldnโt come no matter how I tried.
He stood there, saying a fleet of romantic things that I didnโt even give a hot about. And then, as if he read my mind as he preached his sermon of romance and beauty, as if he knew exactly what I wanted him to do, he walked away. I felt relieved. But I also wished I had said something to set his heart to deep thinking.
I didnโt see him or hear from him again after the party. Well, not until about three weeks later. I canโt explain how, but he began to send romantic letters, loads of flowers, cakes and sometimes, jewelries. And each time the letter bore the tag โ โYour secret admirer.โ
At first I didnโt want to keep stuff from a stranger, especially a man. I wanted so much for men to never cross paths with me. So I trashed the first couple of things he sent me.
Men never change. They always claimed to love you. Theyโd buy you stuff like this, appear romantic and kind, take you places, make you feel youโre the best thing that ever happened to them. But then one morning, you wake up and he is not there in your arms.
It wasnโt happening to me again. I promised myself. My mind was made up. Yet it did not stop him from sending more and more, and more gifts and flowers.
After a while, it felt like I was free from receiving gifts from him. I was happy. I just didnโt want any thing to do with him or any man. But as I walked into my office that morning, there it was โ another bunch of flowers and loads of gifts.
My heart was moved for once, to how much men can give just to be with the ones they desire. I sat at my desk and wondered what he really wanted. Well, not like I knew who was sending me gifts and flowers, but my instincts suggested it was him.
For the first time in a long while I opened my heart to feel blessed with some spice of deep admiration such as this. I ran my fingers over the flowers. They smelt nice. I caressed them softly as I let love drift my mind away like a fluttering butterfly.
This moment reminded me of Dike, one of my ex-boyfriends. He was this kind of person โ this person, whoever it was, sending me gifts. Very romantic and caring. But then he left without saying a word to me.
In that moment of deep thoughts and wide imagination, the call came through. I took the call, and, I donโt know. . .I was glued to my phone for several minutes. He knew how to put words in a womanโs mouth. I didnโt want him to stop. I was head-over-hills in love with him.
He remained on my mind until he returned from Dubai that December. I was so happy to meet him again. This time, not as a stranger or a random guy I didnโt say a word to at a party. But as a man who had kept me company on social media and voice calls for many cold and lonely nights.
My eyes were open as was my heart. And all I saw in him was love. True love.
To be continued. . .
๐ท: Michael Sampson
โ Michael Ituma
