After the first part of this series in Friday letters 14, our writer is back with sadder revelations about how insecurities about his finance ended his relationship. His relationship ended partly he didn’t feel he was enough. This is the sad reality of many age 20s guys who understand that their sense of worth is only tied to how much money they have. He tells a story of his insecurity here.
I still ask myself many times why I equated the success of a relationship with having money and I still haven’t figured a good answer. Why was I insecure? For guys, in the age 20s — is that a fear we all have? There are times I want to go on a boat cruise with a girl I love — go clubbing or flex on the beach. I won’t mind an expensive restaurants with all that “my view” “your view” captions. But are relationships primarily material and when I can’t afford the luxury of other guys — do I back out as fast as possible?
I think broke guys aren’t allowed to have emotions or erections.
After my girl told me we weren’t working out, I was overwhelmed by the thought of picking up my phone and calling her that night. I thought of so many things and I sought the advice of a friend of mine. I don’t think we ever listen whenever we’re in love. Suddenly, you need an interpreter to understand everything your trusted friend has said. E be like say na Greek the guy just talk now. When your guy tells you to take precautionary steps, that’s the time you are most attracted to danger. That’s what love does sometimes. The only time we listen to our friend’s take on our relationships are when they have dirty gossips about our partners. Anyways, to the friends who give crazy advices too — my own advice for you too is — do am if e easy, oversabi.
Maybe or maybe I wasn’t a coconut headed individual that night. I picked up my phone and called her. There was a long awkward quietness. I needed to know how she felt so I broke the silence with: “So what do you mean by what you said the other time?” Like African Magic she responded: “I told you already. I don’t see this working again. I need a break.” Boy, was she resolute. Everything she said, sounded like it had been planned out. Tears. Give me a little break to wipe them.
Dear readers, let’s go on a short tears break. We’ll be right back.
Let me give you a little history. My ex-babe and I attended the same church. The romance started from occasional side glances to “this must be love”. If anyone looks at you for more than two seconds, the onlooker is a lover! Did my ex-babe stop staring even after the breakup? No. So I knew there was a structural defect. I needed to dig deeper.
So we had this long conversation about her disinterestedness, we agreed it was best we let everything phase out rather than end the relationship abruptly. It had a placebo effect on me (the lie lie drug you take after a doctor recommends one, it doesn’t mean shit but it helps your psyche). She agreed to let it go through phases. I needed to transition into the reality of not having a girlfriend again. I still missed her and I still wanted to touch her but I could not. Not again. We became platonic and public. One evening before we left for the end of session break, we made out again. She regretted it and I hated the fact that she did.
That was the beginning of the end.
We still stayed in touch; even though I did most of the calling. It meant a lot to me anytime she called back or giggled at my outlandish attempt at a joke. I worked in a farm so I only had my evenings to talk to her. Two weeks into the holiday, she got an internship with a firm. It was a good thing for her and a bad thing for ‘us’. She rarely had time to talk like we used to. She didn’t return calls and would hang up in the middle of a conversation. I blamed myself for being soft. But yeah, I decided to stop calling when she stopped returning my calls.
For weeks, we did not hear each other’s voice. After about three weeks, she called one day while I was in the bank. The next conversation we had was through a text. She finally broke up with me through a text. My response was cold as Iceland. I replied “ok” and never called her to ask any question again. I knew it was time to move on. It hurt so bad, but I had to. I looked at myself in the mirror sometimes and I wondered if I was enough. I asked myself this question every time.
I never really got the answer.
