It has been two months since my fiancée and I broke up and I can’t bring myself to fathom the reason why we are going our separate ways. What about all those promises? What about the moments we shared together: the weekend beach strolls, the Friday night live band treat at 7 Heavens inside Tema and the “get to know each other’s family” thing our friends proposed? What happened to us? How am I telling my friends that we broke up with a lame excuse?
Adwoa was all I had, probably the only lady I ever knew in my life. Adwoa and I met one night at a course mate’s drink-up party somewhere in level 400. It was one hell of a party with no chance to even have a glance at an attendee’s face. The dancing, along with the smooching that came with it made it a night of bliss. I couldn’t decline the offer of taking time off my books to get my head over all the equations I had no answers to in my mathematics class. I would have pronounced curses on myself if my friends were to come to class the next day to play the role of narrator as if they had been paid to do so.
Adwoa was one of the sheets I tore from the book of Revelation that day. I had managed to grab her and danced with her though I never knew what I was getting myself into, whether it was a painted face with a rough background or it was a relative I was bumping into. I saw nothing but just a figure right in front of me with my hands on the waist and dancing our way through the night. The next moment, my hands were caressing her Peace Hyde’s breasts and her Kardashian butts, teasing my libido. One thing I didn’t realize was, the beginning was the end. We excused ourselves to the balcony, with her hand in mine and exchanged some little spits of saliva. And that’s how my fairy-tale with Adwoa started, though perhaps now that I think about it, it wasn’t a fairy-tale.
Now, we are worlds apart, and I’m here lamenting over something I shouldn’t lament over. If you were in my shoes, you would have agreed with me. Adwoa’s popular phrase in our relationship was “It’s love in the air” and I always smirked at it. We were happy, at least we pretended we were happy. Our love was one that every student photographer had on his or her Instagram page. That’s how far our love popularity would go, though not close to the gates of a church.
We had our resentments. We had our fights but the last lifted the lid on everything we had. Her flimsy excuses, her rage, everything she had never exhibited came bumping straight in my face. Adwoa’s new character role was applauding in the eyes of those who sought our downfall.
To every breakup, there’s a question mark and my question mark was, “why do you want us to break up?” I couldn’t bring myself to understand the reason why she wanted a breakup, and also, why all of a sudden. Adwoa had everything I was looking for in a potential partner. I provided for her with the little my parents gave me.
In the past few months, things haven’t been good. Salary delays have kept me struggling and altering the plans I had in mind for myself, for Adwoa, for us. This was a tough time for us, probably, the first. For better, for worse was now out of the vows to be said on our wedding day because I got to realize Adwoa was only for the better not the worse.
Adwoa screamed at me “love is in the air” and for a moment I thought we were okay just like one of our minor conflicts we had. I was full of happiness once again but it was short-lived when she yelled once again “I said, LOVE IS IN THE HAIR” touching the hair on the head. She continued, all this while, you were deaf to realize that all I was saying was hair, not air. Oh, I have forgotten, you’re a Ga as well.
Love is indeed in the hair when you lavish a lady with different brands of hair from Peruvian to Brazilian. Adwoa has brought me to a realization that, if I ever want to impress a lady in the 21st century I should take into consideration her hair. A lady’s hair is the genesis and revelation of love and I failed the moment I left the hair to go two months without attention in the name of natural hair is the new flex.