This story is about my very first experience with this thing called love. Actually, I wouldn’t really call it love. I wouldn’t call it infatuation either; maybe crush would be a better term.

I was in primary 4 and it was like someone removed scales from my eyes that fateful day. I began to see this particular classmate of mine in his new heavenly glory. Not that he did anything new or special, but I was either cursed with a new set of eyes over night or my brain had a mind of its own that day and decided to interpret what it saw however it deemed fit. As far as I was concerned, even the “joker” could have been an angel of light that very day. I mean, we had been in the same class for over a year and suddenly I thought I was in love with him? His name, Newton.

I don’t know what offense my forefathers committed but it seemed like the devil meant me that day. First was his advocate in the form of my seat-mate, sidey or whatever it’s called now. Now that I think about it, it’s like she had a crush on this boy and needed someone to test the waters. And as the witches in my village would have it, I was her prey. I can’t remember what even led to our conversation but next thing I know is I’m writing a love letter (believe me, that was the first and last time I ever wrote one). I can remember vividly my exact words: I love you. I want to marry you. This was to someone I’d never had a conversation with.

Of course, my messenger was my sidey. If there was someone dumber than I was that day, it was her. The babe passed my special letter through the boys sitting at the back row of the class. Every Tom, Dick and Harry read my letter and had a good laugh. As if that was not enough, Newton replied my letter and sent it back through the same group of boys. I was wondering why they were all laughing until it got back to me. That was when I found out that this so-called fresh boy wasn’t has cool as I’d have loved to believe. You should see the insults he heaped on me that day ehn.

For those who know me personally, I’m not the very patient type. The bubble had burst and the veil had parted. I no dey carry last hence, I retaliated immediately. “I love you” suddenly turned into “you are mad”, “you are stupid”, “you are crazy”, blah blah blah. I had not learnt my lesson yet so I sent the letter back through the same courier service.

Did I leave out the part where a class was actually going on? It was a Yoruba class with a female teacher. Ha. My enemies must be master planners because it just happened that my Yoruba mistress decided to sit beside this boy by the time I was sending my own round of insults. As intelligent as they were, the back-row boys tried to pass my letter through the teacher to Newton. I’m sure it didn’t occur to her at first as she was already passing it before the devil decided to grab her attention. She had a rethink and opened the letter out of curiosity. Since we had been writing on the same sheet of paper, she got the gist fast. Next thing I know, she is asking for the initial sender of the letter. All eyes on me. Ha.

Before I could defend myself, she had called my class teacher who was a Ghanaian. One thing led to another and I ended up getting four lashes on the corridor outside the class. It was either he reported me to my mum or I humbly received my blessings. The devil wasn’t done with me that day. I don’t know how I found myself asking to be prayed for. Maybe it was an attempt at redemption or deliverance, who knows? Mr Ghana dragged me to the front of the class and actually prayed for me. The whole class said “Amen”, including my crush *sniff*.

I still remember the number of strokes and the pain vividly because it was a traumatic experience as a child, both emotional and physical. I was made to feel worse than Mary Magdalene that day like I was the one who nailed Christ to the cross. I eventually told my mum years later however, she was more pissed at the teacher than at me. She told me that what I did was natural for my age. Up until then, I thought I was more evil than the devil himself. Mr Ghana just couldn’t let me nurse my first rejection in peace. Talk about adding salt to injury. I never made eye contact with Newton again till I changed schools at the end of the session.

I have decided that I’d be suing any teacher that ever lays a finger on my child. Of course I’d discipline my children but as the Yorubas would say, “ba mi n’omo mi, ko de’nu olomo”. Some teachers take joy in abusing little kids for no just cause because they think they can. What a mature and responsible adult should have done was to lecture me on this thing called “love”. It wasn’t like I was a dirty-minded kid. I didn’t even know how babies were made until I got to JSS1. I was only trying to re-enact a Nollywood movie o. My teachers just spoilt my parole like that.

In conclusion, I know I was dumb but I take consolation in the fact that my sidey was dumber and my class teacher was the dumbest. The only good thing that came out of that experience was that it became the stepping stone to my taste in men as per features. Unlike most ladies, I’m all for the light-skinned, average-height, and of course, handsome dudes. I term them ‘The Newton Qualities of Man’ *winks*. Oh, did I forget the part where I’d be naming my second son “Newton” lol? I know, I know, it’s been 11 years already. It’s time to move on lol.

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Story even fake

Cutehector:
Story even fake

TrishaP:

mawnin

The feeling of love doesn't surface abruptly.

Cutehector:
Story even fake

Err.....that's the point. It sounds fake but is actually true.

AirborneLacer:
The feeling of love doesn't surface abruptly.

Did you see the part where I called it a crush?

netizenbuzz:


Did you see the part where I called it a crush?

That was only a simple assertion.

AirborneLacer:


That was only a simple assertion.

Yh, I guess I thought it was love then