Your memory is a memory of flowers,
Loving you was the greatest moment of my life.
My name is Femi and I shared the greatest love of my life with a beautiful lady called Amina. I remember there were people that said beautiful things about our relationship.
They called it a Cinderella story, something beyond perfect. But sadly, the relationship had to end. In February this year, my lover, Amina, finally told me that there was more going on than I thought between her and the Alhaji from Kano.
I had been in a long distance relationship for 3 years with Amina, and I thought things were working and that the relationship was leading to marriage. But the truth was that Amina was only interested in dating any man that has a lot of cash to spend on her.
Her list of boyfriends included several white men and black Nigerian sugar daddies especially rich Muslim men from the Northern part of the country.
Initially, a friend of Amina had sent me emails, telling me how Amina and one particular Alhaji were always seen together.
I demanded to hear the truth from Amina herself. But Amina avoided my questions and kept torturing me with thoughts of her and Alhaji actually making love.
After a week she finally admitted the story was true, and that was the moment our relationship ended.
I loved her so much that I was actually willing to forgive her if she still wanted me, but without words she let me know that she preferred Alhaji to me.
I had been in love with Amina for so long, thinking I was indispensable to her, and foolishly believing that what we shared was true love. But to her, I was dispensable, something she could exchange for a rich man.
I cried my eyes out for love of Amina, because she was my life. I had given her so much of my life that when the relationship ended I didn’t even remember who I was anymore.
After Amina broke up with me, I developed a minor mental problem. I became a crippled monster that needed love to walk. I was addicted to Amina like cocaine, and I couldn’t live without her.
Sometimes, I felt the love I once had for Amina change into hate and I kept asking myself, “How could she do this to me?” “What have I done to deserve this?”
Amina called me after we broke up, saying that she wanted us to remain friends. But I told her that it would be better we remain enemies.
That’s because when you have dated for that long and loved someone with all your heart, friendship is like knowing a sword has pierced your heart, and yet you pretend that it didn’t and keep deceiving yourself.
I stopped receiving Amina’s ‘friendship’ calls altogether, even when I knew she was trying to talk Alhaji into getting me a job with an oil company as a way of consoling me for breaking my heart.
But on April 24th, I received the news that Amina had died in a ghastly motor accident on her way to Kaduna state to inform her parents of her upcoming marriage to Alhaji. She was to be Alhaji’s fourth wife.
I was devastated at the news of Amina’s death. But I noticed that Alhaji went about as usual with his girlfriends as if nothing had happened.
I wonder why girls don’t love guys that love them, but fall for rich men who don’t love them. I was dying for Amina, but instead of dying for me, she was dying for Alhaji.
Amina died for love of Alhaji and ruined my life. How can I ever love again? I wish I had married Amina before she died. I wish things had turned out differently, like in the Cinderella story. Part of me has died with Amina.