Post-Valentine Blues: A Side Chick’s Experience

I’m probably never going to say “Awww, so cute!” ever again. I said it enough times to last me a lifetime yesterday. All the while looking admiringly at the presents my friends so happily brandished without really seeing them.

I had called Michael twenty nine times – yes I was counting – and he didn’t pick. I was almost going to call him the thirtieth time but on a second thought I sighed and dropped my phone. He just wasn’t going to pick and to be honest I wasn’t even expecting him to.

It would’ve been really nice to hear his voice though, or at the very least get a ‘Happy Valentine’s’ text message but clearly that wasn’t happening so I fake-smiled my way through the day at everyone around me getting the love they deserve.

I stayed back after work pretending to be engrossed in work as the ones who had dates to get to noisily left the office. When I was sure everyone had left, I packed up, caught a bus home and sat by the window on the long ride home watching the lovers. The ones riding in their cars and the ones waiting for buses at the various bus stops we passed. I tried to imagine the conversation each couple I passed was having or what they would be getting up to later that night.

I imagined that the sturdy man standing by the roundabout and leering at his buxom girlfriend wearing black leggings and a red ‘bodyhug’, was telling her “wa fe ku lale yii”

The cute young couple that just flagged down a taxi was probably giggling because the guy had whispered something in the effect of letting her sit on his face.

I smiled and sighed. None of this was going to change the fact that I was going home to an empty bed.

I got home, stepped out of my clothes and walked into the shower. I stood there and let the water have it’s way with me. Five minutes later, I walked out, dried my body, turned on the Air Conditioner and got into bed as Jhene Aiko played through the speakers.

And then I cried. Not because I was angry or hurt. No. I’ve accepted that Michael is not going to be here on nights like this when I need him most. I’ve gotten used to being option number 2. I cried because this night my bed felt a lot bigger than usual and I felt particularly empty.

I don’t quite remember falling asleep but the next thing I knew Umar – the gateman was knocking (read that as banging) on my door. I glanced at the bedside clock. Shoot! 7:47 AM. I quickly grabbed my robe and ran out to find him grinning sheepishly and sniffing a bunch of red roses. “Ah Aunty Osas, falentimes don come o,” he said handing me the delicious-looking flowers and a square box.

“Thank you, Umar.”

I walked inside and shut my door. I didn’t bother opening the box. It’s probably another jewelry set. But as I carelessly dumped the gifts on the reading table, I caught sight of a small envelope. Out of curiosity I picked it up, it was a card that simply read, “Someday soon. Love, Michael.”

I tried to smile and realized my cheeks hurt. And then I remembered the hollowness that engulfed me as I faked smiles and pretended to be happy for everyone getting showered with love on Valentine’s Day. I sighed and rushed into the bathroom to prepare for another day at work.