My expedition in the quaking realm of love began in my wee years, when I first could tell apart a man from a woman. In the small township of Nkulumane in Bulawayo, where I grew up, lived a girl named Sithembile. Sithembile’s family and ours were neighbours. She was about six then, the same age as I was. She resembled to me an angel, an extraordinary creature of beauty. She was my first crush.
Somehow, one day I found myself behind a closed toilet door with Sithembile, experimenting with what we had heard brought about children like us into the world. Unfortunately, we were inexperienced and made a lot of noise trying to figure out what exactly to do that we got caught before we could actually do anything. That day is still vivid in my mind. I can almost still feel my mother lashing me on my buttocks for my antics.
This was just the beginning of my life’s trials at love. After Sithembile, I loathed the female species. Throughout my primary school years I never liked girls. They were to me these atypical creatures who were slow at athletics, cried before they were beaten in class, and whose ambitions centred on being drum-majorettes.
Even so, when I was in Grade Seven one girl turned the tides of my judgments around. Her name was Nonzipho. Nonzi, as we affectionately called her, was elegant, smart and charming. She was light in complexion, tall, fair, and smiled like a model. She was different from other girls; in short she was my new world.
I was however lousy in dealing with my emotions that everyone soon knew about my crush before I could even make a move. I was called by my teacher and intensely interrogated about my intentions. I became a laughing stock as everything became public and Nonzi was revered. Resultantly, I hated her until I left primary school.
My secondary education was as dry as the Sahara as far as relationships were concerned. My parents posted me to a Boys’ school and I rotted there. Periodically though, our school would organize trips to our sister school and we would catch glimpses of what we desired to be chasing on a daily basis. At one instant, a girl named Rejoice from our sister school had a serious crush on me and did not hide her feelings from me, even though she was two streams older than me. On one of our trips to their school she led me to the back of the classrooms and started conversing intimately. Naively, I did not even make a move. It was not until after I had returned to my school that I realized I had missed my opportunity for a first kiss. Rejoice never replied any of my mails after that incidence.
Ultimately, what I may call my breakthrough came when I was now doing my A’ level. I opted out of the boys’ school to a co-ed school. This did not augur well with my mother and we had a fierce altercation over my decision. I was nonetheless determined to get my way; I would not age without a girlfriend. I had to be exposed to the real world.
This is where I met Bongi, my first love. She was like the Lamborghini of cars, like the Gucci of clothing; simply what I thought had been God-sent and tailor made for a brother like me. We hit it off like the school had been our playground. We were the talk of the school; the ideal teenage couple. This was love.
Sadly, after more than a year together, our relationship started wobbling. It seemed as if I was losing grip of the newly found love. And indeed, I was. Someone scooped Bongi off her feet and she dumped me still believing we had something special. Nothing could describe the hurt in my heart at that time. I was angry, frustrated, robbed, empty, and bitter. I was left void like a kid who had just had his lollipop jerked from his mouth by a bully. This was my first heartbreak.
Scarred like a wounded bull, I went to college with the mentality that all girls were the same; none legitimate. I approached several of them but never really zeroed in on one. I became the hunter and they the hunted. I was the mac-daddy. Deep inside though, I still yearned for that one true love. She never came.
At one time I had a fling with this girl who was cheating on her long term boyfriend. I knew she was cheating; I was her comfort shoulder when she was stressed. We would cuddle up, kiss, and fondle like we were lovers. The thrill of not being attached was what kept us going. Physical contacts however often lead to emotional ties. The wussy character in me overcame the strong macho personality I had developed and in no time I was telling her how much I loved her and spoiling her with gifts. Our fling did not last more than a month thereafter.
With a long string of heartbreaks, I resorted to abstaining from girls. The peer pressure from friends to try other shots at love was strong, but a scarred child will always hesitate to go near a fire again. I knew the pleasures of being in a relationship, but also I needed to recuperate before I could get on the love boat again. I hoped the next relationship would be the special one….
Ends.
mbonisi
