Memories of Being in Love

As Valentine’s Day rolled past I found myself thinking of all the previous Valentines that I ever had. The thoughts strolled past like a slow-motion collage of faces, people, events and emotions. The thoughts eventually became sessions on if I had ever really loved any of the ladies I was involved with at the time. Sure. Of course I had to be in love with them for me to have Val’d them, right? Hang on; let me think about that….

For me loving someone and being in love with someone are two different things; like Beyonce Knowles’ Brown Eyes and Dangerously in Love. Truth is, I have loved a few women but may have actually been in love with only two of them. Doesn’t make sense, does it? Okay, please read me out!

This is just not a case of semantics as some of you may argue, but it is a case of properly defining my emotions. How many of you can remember what it is like to be in love with someone? And no, I am not referring to your ability to love someone. I mean love that makes you break all your rules; the kind that turns you into a hopeless fool? Yes, it is that crazy love that I am referring to; the love that was probably your first (or second) relationship. I do not know how it was for you but I sure know how it was for me.

I was seventeen at the time and without a serious care in the world when it happened. I had just completed secondary school and was trying my best to get into university. I remember feeling on top of the world; like I was the MAN. I mean for a girl like that to ‘agree’ for a guy like me...life could not have been better!

I remember the first time I saw her and thought to myself, “Wow!” I remember the first things she said and the way she walked away. I remember not listening to my friends who said that she was not all that. I remember these same guys telling me how fine she was a few weeks later.

I remember hours spent on the phone, talking about everything and nothing and then dropping the phone to rush a bath and head over to her place. I remember long walks, holding hands and promising my eternal undying love. I remember scouring all the shops and “malls” in VI and Ikoyi looking for that perfect Val’s Day gift. I remember my friends heaving a sigh of relief when I finally found it in some obscure shop along Awolowo Road. Memories of my first kiss still linger, the feel of her lips and the taste of her mouth. I remember feeling woozy whenever she came close to me; the never dying butterflies in my tummy. I still remember her perfume like it was yesterday. I remember swearing that I would not marry someone that did not have long beautiful hair and who was less than 5ft 8 inches tall. I remember having a hole in my heart for the two weeks she had to travel out of town for her grandfather’s burial. How I managed then, I do not know. I remember the midnight calls and ‘tapping’ the phone whenever it was locked. I remember the way my heart would beat whenever she was near; and the way it would sail into the air at the sound of her voice.

I remember trying to explain things to my folks because they did not approve. I was too young they said; and what were we always talking about for hours on the phone? I remember fighting and breaking up for six months and how it tore me apart. Better still I remember making up and promising not to be a jerk again. I remember being far away in university and all I could think about was her. I remember sharing all I knew about life; I remember the way she would look at me full of admiration and love. I remember the day she said I was the best thing that ever happened to her. I remember telling her that I would always love her and knowing that I meant it too! I remember seeing her cry and how it gutted me. How she held my hand and told me she loved me. I remember her telling me that she was seeing some other guy and how she was sorry about it. I remember feeling that I could forgive her anything and doing just that. I remember taking out time before each exam paper to call her to tell her how I felt about her, the paper and all. I remember the letters written back and forth over the years. I remember happiness, joy and a high degree of satisfaction with life.

I remember fighting with my mum who disapproved and not talking to her for a month.

I remember the competition, and how at the time I was too confident to notice him. I remember the night it ended, three years later with the competition being present. I remember the un-replied letters and the unreturned phone calls. I remember the emptiness and the pain and the feeling that the earth had stopped spinning and the world had stopped making sense. I remember the reasons she gave that were excuses really, and then the silence. I remember going about like a zombie without a zeal for life.

I remember swearing I would not let it happen to me again. I remember hardening my heart and dwelling on my pain. I remember becoming insensitive and chauvinistic and un-chivalrous. I remember having a cynical smile whenever she said I love you. I remember putting me first; seeing how it would end just as it was beginning.

I remember trying to pull myself out of the doldrums. I remember finding it difficult to trust her again. I remember not giving my all, swearing that “she won’t do me the same way that she did me.” I remember going through the motions.

I remember growing up and coming out of it and letting my feelings show. I remember trying very hard and having some success with love again. I remember finding other reasons to smile, to laugh and let it all hang out.

In the end, I remember learning how to love someone new with all my heart. Yes, but never quite remembering how to be crazy in love again with all my heart.

Yes, I still remember.