Tag Archives: relationships

Wading

I feel like I have to give a disclaimer before I get a call asking if I'm okay. I couldn't sleep and at precisely 0313, I did what I've been putting off for so long – I wrote. This is what came of it.

And I’m here. Reading our story and feeling so fucking overwhelmed by the utter dysfunction of it all, wondering how I managed to find love in you, in your absurdity. I can’t help but feel you’ve broken me forever and you won’t ever understand because it doesn’t matter half as much to you as it does to me. Nobody will understand. Nobody has been in love with you the way I was in love with you.

I'm floating in you, in what I want you to be. You can see me, clear as day and you know what I want yet you deny me heaven. And I deny myself by clinging on to the idea that is so evidently not you. Either I drown here and the death of me will open your eyes to the actuality of what you've done or I save myself, never to wade in you again but know you're still here, being what I don't need you to be – not mine.

I'm learning and desperately trying to unlearn the mechanisms I have used to keep myself together in this time of healing. I let myself cry, I let myself think, I let myself grieve and I realise I'm living a life that no longer exists to appease you.

Finality isn't what I thought it would be. It didn't bring about the coldness of the loneliness I know I need. I feel open. I am not new but I am.

I’d like to say thank you to everyone who encouraged me to start this again. From the people who asked me if I was still writing, to those who asked me to start writing again and to those who simply said they missed my blog. It makes me teary-eyed to think I’ve touched people enough for them to notice my absence and to care to ask me to try this all again. It means the world to me.

The Issue At Hand Evolves

I have been MIA for way too long, I know. I couldn’t think of what to write and I wasn’t even prepared to bullshit you or myself through something meaningless. They say time is the best answer to everything (they don’t, I’m just making it up as I go along) but that’s all I needed. I got my mojo back.

When we were little, there was always this curiousity towards the opposite sex. There was the whole “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours” kind of thing. There was this air of innocent intrigue, keyword being innocent. From year 4-6 of primary school, the whole class used to chill together, we were all friends, good friends, friends that MSN’d together at 6pm until dinner was ready. I personally think I skipped the “boys have cooties” phase, I was born hormonally charged. I’ve always liked boys; I didn’t shy for them nor them me either. I think I had my first kiss when I was 8. I remember being so blasé when we’d play truth or dare as young’uns when first kisses were imagined by others and cherished on the top shelf of the mind of others, kept with all the much-loved memories. I didn’t see it as something monumental. It was just a thing. It was almost something I could do without.

Did your mum ever give you that talk that scared the shit out of you when you were younger? Did she ever tell you touching a boy could get you pregnant? I am so lucky for a mother who didn’t wreck my mind like that. I don’t think I knew the actual mechanics of sex until I was 11/12. Boarding school made sure I knew every single excruciating detail.

But what I’m saying is, when we were young, heterosexual friendships weren’t something that was out of the blue. They didn’t threaten anyone, really. Seeing a young boy and a girl being friends didn’t necessarily raise eyebrows as it does now. Drama evolves with time. It may have been around when we were prepubescent and it is ever so present now that we are grown but it’s just so much more in your face. The fact that you’re not meant to have a genuinely friendly friendship with a member of the opposite sex is fiercely shoved down your throat. You are almost taught to believe your platonic relationship is destined to become tinged by attraction eventually. Just wait on it.

For instance, let’s say your girlfriend/boyfriend has a best friend of the opposite sex. Wouldn’t you want to know everything about this supposed best friend; be everywhere when your significant other and said best friend are together and most importantly, know whether they are having/had sex or not? It is just impossible to have peace of mind when your lover has an opposite sex friend who was there before you. There’s no way you would allow for such a friendship to form when you are in the picture, no way in hell.

Once we reach a particular age, I’m going to say 16 as that is the legal age (stay safe, kids) even though I witnessed this and have lived this since I was 12 – platonic relationships between the sexes do not exist. You cannot have a friend who is a boy/girl and just leave it at that level. There is always that underlining tone of sex being whispered in the background even if you know in your heart that you’re not necessarily attracted to the person. I remember I was texting someone I had just met and we were in that phase of asking questions and once I got past the standard enquiries such as how old are you, where are you from, what university are you studying in, I went straight for “do you have a girlfriend?” even though I knew I wouldn’t ever be with this person in any way shape or form. Or the time I was texting someone whom I had again just met and less than an hour into our text-versation and establishing common ground, he was asking to meet with a wink emoji. The wink emoji. It’s almost primal, dare I say it. Maybe it’s our bodies’ way of ensuring we find a mate and by doing so, we are psychologically programmed to find a potential, secure said potential, establish then eliminate competition. Occasionally and unknowingly, you just catch yourself on the first step of this process and ask yourself “wait what? I don’t even like him/her, what the hell am I doing?”

I guess with age, what is important to me changes. I’m getting old, I am 19 years of age. Before I can blink, the –teen will be a distant memory. With age comes maturity; comes change that I can’t fend off even if I wanted to. My attention has shifted to what matters now but might not matter in 10 years. Tastes have changed, tolerance has changed. Things that mattered, don’t. Things that I couldn’t think about without feeling a huge swirl of emotion only make me smile now. Every little thing that happens to me is a lesson to be learnt, wisdom to be acquired, another gem to be kept. The drama evolves but it will always be around. Maybe when I’m 29, I’ll look back at this phase in time and laugh too.

Song of the Week

This song makes me bust a move.

 

And this tune tune tuneeee. This album came out the year I was born.

I will be back, promise. I’ve missed writing. I’ve missed you, blogosphere.

Until then,

Georgina ❤

 

Writing Everything Down

Hello everyone, hope you all had a restful and meaningful Easter.

I always say writing is therapeutic because it’s never let me down. There is only so much you can vocalize to another human being and besides that, their emotions will get in the way of whatever is it you’re trying to convey. They will judge, they will give their two cents, they will have a response that 9 times out of 10 won’t be what you want to hear or what you even asked for. That’s why writing is so needed: it’s just me and a blank canvas that won’t betray me or rebut anything I say, it will retain my words, hold them for me, display them back to me, speaking louder and wiser than anything else.

I say this because I keep a diary. I’ve always dabbled for as long as I can remember but it wasn’t until I was carted off to boarding school around 8 years ago that I took journal-keeping seriously, almost religiously. Again, my diary wouldn’t betray me. I could write about anything, about anyone and that would be it. To today, I still write in a diary, a little less frequently as before but this blog serves as another diary for me nowadays.

I’m always typing little things whenever they hit me, for posterity’s sake. Memory fails but once it’s been stored somewhere, that is it, it’s final. I was going through my laptop aimlessly, nostalgically and I found this document titled “Time” and you know what it was? I had written down my entire experience with my ex. Everything, from our first date, to our arguments, to what the sex was like, to when he broke my heart, every little thing. Everything that I could remember, I had written it down. Call me crazy, call me overly-attached, call me whatever. I am an investor: I invest my time, my feelings, my entire being into things or people that I love. Being in love with him was brand new, we experienced a lot of firsts together. I had never felt how I felt with him with anyone before and I know that at the time I wrote all of it down, I felt I would never achieve that feeling with anyone else. I read it over and I could feel the hurt through the screen, it was that tangible. I just had to share some of it, simply because it was like a gift from past me to now me: a me who is forever wanting and will, one day, be rewarded and I felt like that little narration of my first love was something that would benefit future me, one day. It could serve as a reminder of what was and what will never be, to keep me going and keep me hoping and to remind me that the love I have (hopefully) is all the more worth fighting for just so I won’t have to write something like this ever again.

“Unhappiness is a gulf. It is that patch of thin ice that you inevitably walk over during winter. It is clenched teeth during dreams that end as nightmares, sleepless nights that can only be ended by crying yourself to sleep. It is being unable to look at yourself in a mirror for months. It is not having the self-love or even self-belief that your picture is worth being taken. It is looking sullenly out a window or at nothing in particular while in deep thought wondering where the hell you went so horribly wrong. I was consumed with sorrow because I believed I just wasn’t good enough. I don’t want to say I was depressed but I didn’t smile with my eyes for almost 2 months. I watched the video tape of Christmas that year and I didn’t smile wholeheartedly once. Love is unrelenting in every aspect: when you’re in it, you are in it. There’s no side-stepping it or half-hugging it. When it breaks you, it doesn’t just break you – it destroys you, it disintegrates you. It ruins you from the inside, crumbling down everything you’d been so careful to not become so dependent on I don’t appreciate people saying “he’s just a boy, get over it” because it’s not just the boy, it’s what he brings about. I won’t be able to understand why God made it so that one person has the capacity to complete us but we still meet those who are almost the exact match to our missing jigsaw piece, even let them test their compatibility, let them wedge themselves into that space even though it is not a perfect match, but it is decent so we settle. But decent isn’t perfect, it isn’t good enough, so we are left exposed. We go through a lot in the name of love because it provides feelings and sensations like no other has ever been able to recreate. I know why girls take so much shit from their lovers. It’s very easy to say “if I were her, I’d leave”, hey, I say it all the time but anyone who reads this will say the exact same thing and wonder why I didn’t just get out intact but how could I? Love is everything yet life would be so much easier without it.”

Song of the Week

She needs to bless me with another album, pretty please.

Until next week…

Georgina ❤

My Take On Boys, Perhaps?

I know, I know, 3 weeks in and I’m already talking about boys. Sue me, it has to be done. I’m not here to preach about the bad side of dating, I’m not here to tell anyone to abstain, become a nun, close your eyes whenever an attractive being walks past, no. I’m just here to speak my mind and this week, I’ve got boys on my mind.

People always say university is the place to make lifelong relationships in the friendly aspect and otherwise. I’m not even slightly ashamed to say I depended on university to help me meet people, men in particular. Yes, I said men. There is a difference between a man and a boy but it seems to me, university is just another breeding ground for boys. I still haven’t met any Nigerians, by the way. It’s making me spiral closer and closer to insanity as it’s making me lose bucket loads of hope.

I’m surrounded by blossoming relationships and there’s a pattern emerging: there seems to be quite large age gaps between the lovebirds. One of the newest friends I’ve made at university is engaged and she’s 19, her fiancé is 24. I think for my particular age group, boys just aren’t ready for the level of commitment a LOT of girls my age (or should I say women) are yearning for. As always, males and females at the age of 18 aren’t on the same psychological level yet and so us ladies are left, flailing our arms around, beckoning for our male counterparts to hurry the f*ck up and get to where we are. I think I’m targeting the wrong age group but I don’t want to date someone 5 years older than me: I just know they will be patronising and almost parent-like and that’s the biggest no-no in my rather short list of requirements in whom I date.

Am I too young to be wanting such serious relationships? I’m not even interested in getting engaged right now, I just want a serious boyfriend/manfriend, damn it. Is there something wrong with me for expecting the total embodiment of my dreams to magically cross paths with me on my university campus? I guess it’s okay to dream… but there’s only so much dreaming can fulfil. In all honesty, I miss being in a relationship and the fact that I’m enveloped by so many happy and healthy ones makes me jealous. There, I said it.

I’m the kind of person who devotes themselves to anything that I’m passionate about: be it a relationship, be it a project, be it Beyoncé. I guess I just love being in love or better yet, I love the idea of love. I’ve always been that person to crush really hard on people ever since I knew what a crush was. I’m a sucker for romance, I’m a sucker for love but as always, the harder you love, the more agonising the heartbreak.

I also think a lot of factors are at hand, hindering the average 18-year-old boy’s ability to want to “settle down”. I’m just going to mention 3. We don’t have all day:

  1. The media: I mean, “bad b*tches” seem to be in ample supply nowadays and some boys are dumb enough to actually want those kind of girls. But see, they’d rather chase a couple of girls like that for now than have one girl who’s probably not that outlandish but guaranteed to make them happy in the long-run. It’s so unfortunate.
  2. Immaturity: this doesn’t apply to just boys, oh no. There are girls out there who just serve as the exceptions to the rule and somehow, every bloody time, they seem to get their clutches on the good guys before us. They end up tainting the guys so much, they are either so bitter, they will do absolutely anything to hurt other good girls or so disinterested in girls, they won’t give anyone a second glance. Sigh.
  3. My idea of a serious relationship differs drastically from theirs. Enough said.

I feel like this post is full of contradictions and ramblings that make close to no sense whatsoever. I could blame this on the fact that I’m heavily intoxicated by Benylin cough medicine and concentrated doses of Obas oil but actually, I’ve just been in a “someone, love me” mood all week and this post was the only way to get it out of my system. Forgive me, readers.

Mini Rant of the Week – I don’t want to be one of those people who think every single action towards them involves some form of racial discrimination but I feel like I should document this as I might be on to something… Just in case.

So, one of my lecturers was introducing himself to the class and this line of talk began:

“University is about having your big boy trousers on.” *Looks at me* “Do you have your trousers on?”
“Um, yes.”
*Class laughs*
“Stand up and show me then.”
“Um, no.”
“Do you have a skirt on?”
“…”
“*KISSES TEETH*”

FYI, I was actually wearing trousers that day. Now, kissing one’s teeth showcases annoyance, impatience or even a display of attitude amongst Africans and Afro-Caribbeans mainly. He was very white. So, what I didn’t get is why he decided to do that to me in particular. He didn’t do it to anyone else. He did however, call an Asian boy “bruv” but I guess that was because the boy in mention kept saying “innit”. He’s also the boy who irritates my soul in all my classes (I’ll most likely rant about him next week). The more I think about it, the more it irritates me and I keep finding underlying meanings to what he could have meant. Either way, I didn’t find it funny at all or even necessary and I’m not looking forward to his lectures.

Song of the Week – Jhené Aiko – Spotless Mind (https://soundcloud.com/albsoon/jhene-aiko-spotless-mind)

Quote of the Week – Since I’m in a sentimental mood, why not quote from my favourite book in the whole wide world: “Each moment that I wait feels like a year, an eternity. Each moment is as slow and transparent as glass. Through each moment I can see infinite moments lined up, waiting.” – Audrey Niffenegger (excerpt from The Time Traveler’s Wife)

Georgina x

P.S. Random fact about me: I’d rather lose my page in a book than doggy-ear the page or use a bookmark. Odd, no?