A man

We met when we were still in high school. And it wasn’t love at first sight. There was no physical attraction. She was a friend of a friend, a pretty random person to me. She is a beautiful girl. Not the kind of beauty that strikes you and has you thinking about things you want to do to her, but she has this discreet, charming, lady-like kind of beauty that commands respect. She looks like the woman you’d want to marry not the girl you want to f*. I used to love staring at her… after we became involved and had had the time to notice how beautiful she is, inside and out.

She was conservative, not the kind of girl that flirts around. She hated it when guys got too personal giving her long random hugs, wanting to hold her hand… you know how Burundian guys love to do it with girls. In fact, this is one of the traits I admired about her; I, a person who worships his personal space and associates physical contact with true emotional connections. I respected her personal space and she respected mine… until the day I started putting my arm over her shoulder and fidling her soft curly hair, and she let me… despite the fact that she had a boyfriend.

She had been dating the guy for about a year and a half when we first met. Everybody knew they were an item, myself included. A year and a half later when we started growing close, they were still together but according to her their relationship was on the rocks. She had started confiding in me. I don’t exactly remember how that happened, though I remember giving her advice on how she could make things work with her man. And I was serious. I wanted her to be happy in her relationship. In her life. I had become her oath keeper, her best friend.

We had the holding hands all the time, completing each others’ sentences, constantly texting or talking to each other over the phone when we weren’t together kind of relationship. We were soulmates. We fell in love. I told her about my feelings and she said she felt the same way. You could feel the sexual tension between us. Mine was much more “feelable” and sometimes visible especially when we’d be hugging and cuddling. She’d speak of how she wanted to have my son, I’d think about her all alone, in my room… I’d tell her how bad I wanted to kiss her and she’d ask me what I was waiting for. I could never bring myself to do it though, because she still belonged to another man.
She said she would break things of with him to be with me. She said she loved me more. She even introduced me to her close friends and to her family. I did the same.

But for months I waited for her to officially break up with her boyfriend which she never did. She said he wouldn’t let her go. And every week we’d have an argument about it. Although she spent more time with me, she was still officially with him. To the world I was just her very good friend. This went on for about a year until I grew tired and started putting some distance between us. Moving away helped. She later accused me of not showing that I was serious about us. My friends say it’s because I never tried to get physical with her. But I didn’t want to be the one she cheated on her boyfriend with. I didn’t want to be a booty call or a sexual rebound. I wanted to be her boyfriend, but she didn’t let me.

Instead of breaking up with the guy she ended up marrying him. Since we couldn’t just be friends, we stopped talking and started avoiding each other. We have a very awkward kind of relationship accentuated by how her now husband, who knows about us, hates my guts. I would hate me too if I were him…

…I sometimes wonder if she still thinks about me and wants to have my babies…