I don’t know if I am going to get flowers today.
Seeing all the flowers and gifts on my social media timelines today got me thinking about the first bouquet of flowers I ever got.
I have gotten 6 bouquets of flowers to this day. The first bouquet I ever got was for my 21st birthday. They were 21 roses, for my 21st. I remember hinting so hard and using my best friend, Winnie, to manipulate my then boyfriend, on what I wanted for my birthday.
To this day, my boyfriend then does not know that I orchestrated the entire thing. I told my best friend exactly what I wanted – I wanted 21 white roses, and I was pretty specific about the fact. I made sure he asked her for what I would want, and I made certain she had the answers ready.
I recall how excited I was when I got my flowers. I had gotten my flowers, and I was elated! Looking back at it today – I am not even sure what I was happy about – the fact that he listened to my best friend? The idea that my plan had worked? The fact that he actually got up and did it? I was really excited you know.
I am not even sure I like flowers. They’re pretty, that’s for sure. I definitely appreciate them when someone sends them my way as a random “I am thinking of you. I appreciate you”. I like seeing them in a vase in my house. I am however not certain that flowers are my most preferred gift from my lover.
I’ve spent the past few months asking myself what love really means to me – loving and being loved.
I got to thinking about that relationship, and I wanted to share some content from my book “By The End of your Teens”. I wrote a lot about escaping toxic love relationships, something I am certain that this relationship was. I, identified myself as toxic lover in that period of my life. I just wanted someone to love me. Literally so many people would have qualified to be my partner at that time because my definition of love was so materialistic back then.
You’re going to have to buy the book to read stages 1-5, but today I felt like sharing stage 6 of toxic love relationships.
Stage 6: Pick One and Settle
As the saying goes,
“If all the men are the same, then pick one already”
If you tell your friends you cannot find the right man, their most likely response will be:
“there is no right man”
Or something more amusing I have heard:
“There is no Mr. Right. You go to the left, grab that man and drag him to the right”.
We say these statements jokingly, I suppose. We do not really take a moment to decipher what we mean. We do not care for the young ones that are so easily influenced and may catch on to the words we speak.
I remember lying on his bed crying my eyes out. This was my second boyfriend. There was so much pain inside me, pain that I was so desperate to release.
“We can end this now. I don’t want you to remember me as having hurt you,” He said.
This was just about 3 months into what seemed in the beginning to be the greatest relationship ever. If I have one regret, it is that I did not pack up every little sense of dignity I had left and went my way forever. I needed this lesson. So maybe that lesson was so worth it – it is no longer a regret.
Then I recall myself standing outside the hospital in the parking lot. I was completely in tears and in absolute denial that this was even happening to me. I did not just get on a bus all the way from Mangochi to Blantyre, to have the man I loved say he could not see me.
I bet you are wondering why I did it. In all honesty, to this day, I am too.
He said, “You know I do not like surprises. If it was me you were coming to see, you would have told me in advance. So go ahead and see whoever it is that you came to Blantyre to see.”
I ran into him as I was heading out of the hospital compound, and about to leave. He saw me, stopped me, and told me to wait for him in his car. He left me there in that car, all by myself. I contemplated walking out and away forever so many times in that car. I went as far as writing a break up note on a paper so I could set myself free from this catastrophe. I was so desperate to hold on to something, anything at that point, and so a not-so-sincere apology and a hug later, I still did not leave.
Backing it up, all the way to the beginning – an Instagram DM ago (man I had all the red flags and I still chose to be blind!), a bit of texting, a perfect first date and a few more dates, I did not imagine this would be the way we would end. I should have seen it coming though. I just didn’t.
He sent me a direct message (yes it goes down in the DM!) on Instagram about some project about Women’s Empowerment he was working on. He got my number and we started talking about it. He paid so much attention to every little detail about me – or perhaps, even already knew most of them. I must have either been really desperate for love, or it was the mistreatment I was getting from my current situation that made me jump right into this relationship – my second relationship. I have such an amazing taste in men. Amazing – haa.
And everyone asks “what did you ever see in him?” Oh I don’t know. It must have been the attention he gave me, possibly his well chiselled physique, maybe the nice cars, could have been his excellent academic background, maybe the master’s degree, maybe the beautiful house, heck the money, perhaps, even how he treated me. I really don’t know.
I do know, however, that he came in a mask of my dream man (at least at the time). You know girls have this image of what Mr. Right will be; that we will know when he shows up. Oh yes, I knew! If anything, I am glad he came and went. As my sister and I would say, “Jesu!”
I remember the first time he asked me out on a date. There was a fundraising Dinner in his city (very expensive one for my taste at the time) and he asked me to go with him. MK60,000 per head? For one dinner? My monthly allowance was just MK50,000 at the time. Monthly!
He offered to organise my transport to his city, and book me into a nice Hotel for my stay after the dinner. Given we had not met yet, in as much as I trusted his intentions not to be malicious, I still politely said no. It was the fact that I was kind of seeing someone (and this may be an overstatement), and that I just could not let someone spend that much money on me for a first date. Heck my “situation” then had not even taken me for a sandwich yet. I told him I was going to school in Zomba in a few days, and that I would be close so we could perhaps meet then.
I woke up one Saturday morning when I was back at school, and my friend Josephine came bulging into my room and asked me how my leg was doing. I could not fully recapture the events from the previous night – or better yet how I had gotten to bed. She said I had come to her, told her I was hurt and that we needed to go. She took me to my room and wrapped my wounded leg up, and put me in my bed.
I moved my right leg, looked at it, and told her it was a minor scratch, I would be fine. She then removed my covers and there was a sight that shocked even me. My leg was wrapped in tissue paper with blood and puss everywhere sticking to my bed linen. Up to this day, I still wonder what happened to me – how bad a fall it must have been for me to acquire a wound so big. The skin on my whole left knee was pretty much scrapped off.
I was seeing some boy then. It was not close to a good relationship. He had called me the previous day and said I should meet him out that night so we could work things out. I got together with my girlfriends and we went out for a night of fun. When I had gotten hurt, my friends claim I was with him.
I picked my phone up and called him to ask him what had happened to me. He told me that he barely saw me the previous night. This did make sense to me, as I did recall him doing his best to ignore me. I sent him a picture of the wound and asked him if he could escort me to the hospital. He apologised, and said that he could not. He had to go meet his mother who was just in town for the day. I curled up in my bed and tried to go back to sleep. I was not in the least bit hurt or surprised. Disappointments from him were nothing new. Luckily, I wasn’t really in that much pain. I suppose the adrenaline was still high. My body was still in shock.
My phone went off and Mr. Right’s name popped up. He asked me if I was still up for brunch as we had agreed the previous night. I did not remember agreeing to this. He insisted we had been texting the previous night and I had agreed to having brunch with him this morning. I went back to my chats and found that we had indeed been chatting the previous night, and that I had jokingly agreed to him taking me out for my recovery in the morning.
I went back to the phone and told him I could not make it, as I was hurt. I sent him a photo of the wound, and he was deeply concerned. In the back of my mind, I was hoping his doctor self could come and save me. With the disappointments from the men in my life then, I truly did not think he would do it.
About 30 minutes later, he called asking me to come outside to the carpark to meet him. I could barely walk but managed to drag myself to get ready and pushed myself all the way to his car. He got out of the car as soon as he saw me approaching and watched me carefully as he smiled… half laughing, while I limped my way towards him. It should have be his car that should have caught my attention first, but in that moment I was focused on this man, one that knew how to show up and be there for someone. He was averagely taller than me, well built, decent face. I loved his outfit, absolutely. He was wearing some arguably tight grey pants and a clean white t-shirt that hugged his muscles well. He paired that fit with some beautiful white sneakers. When he hugged me, he smelled lovely. The “Mr. Right List” in my head was just checking itself in the back of my mind as the day progressed. It was a slippery slope!
He held me by the hand and helped me into the car and then closed the door behind me. That was when I took time to notice his car. Who was this man? He got into the car and we drove off. Right then and there, as it had played so many more times in my head, cued Hannah Montana’s “He could be the ooone”!
As we left town, I asked him where it was that we would be grabbing brunch. He told me he had a surprise for me, and I was too tired, and too sick, to care. As soon as we got in his city which was barely 30 minutes away, we went straight to the pharmacy and bought all that would be needed to clean my wound. We then went and grabbed brunch – with the time, lunch, as was agreed. That steak, I still remember vividly, was all I needed that day. A few chats and laughs later, we went to his house and he knelt down and dressed my wound so carefully. It was the sweetest thing anyone had done for me in a while. For a good part of our relationship I had that wound as it was healing. I suppose the healing of that wound was the end for me and him… and even better my own healing from my own past.
We started off for my city, but made a quick stop to meet his pals. He introduced me to everyone, and half of them already knew about me. I was no stranger to this man. He knew about me. It should have been a red flag then, but after experiencing my good share of college boys and their silly tricks in trying to avoid acknowledging your very existence or the fact that they are involved with you, it honestly did not take much to convince me.
He came again, the next day, to check on me, and see how my wound was doing. It was always good chats. We were always laughing. As he was dropping me off he asked me if he could take me on a real date on Tuesday as Wednesday was a holiday. Could have fooled me, I thought the past two had been dates already.
We went out on the first date, had a splendid time. We had another date, and another date. It was always a peaceful and lovely time. He told me about some of his flaws. His intentions were clear. He really wanted to be with me. He did not set out to hurt me. I still believe to this day that he was very honest with me. The only problem was that he could only be as honest with me, as he had been with himself. It took me a few months to realise that he had not met himself deeply. He chose not to.
Knowing as much as I do now, I cannot say that I blame his choice.
In no time he started introducing me to his friends as his girlfriend. After a few hesitations, I accepted it. He was nice, you know. I had told myself that he would have his flaws but I would stick with him because I had picked my demon and I would settle. After all, they were all the same… right?
When you decide to date someone, you choose to take on their life and become a part of it. It is no longer about fancy dates, or some sweet light-hearted banter. Dating is the real stuff! You start getting to know the person – who they are, where they are coming from, what made them. You get to know their daddy issues, their mommy issues, what they went through to get here. You get to know the real person. Like I said, that’s the real stuff!
So now you learn they can be stubborn for no apparent reason at all, other than that they like to get their way. You start to see how they treat strangers (and that you can’t always apologise for them). You get to experience their drinking habits, their hygiene, how much money they make, and better yet spend, on what and why.
It was my 21st birthday that led to my crying in a park.
I was back at my parents’ for the holiday, and I had let him know I wanted to spend my birthday with him, but he never confirmed the plan. At that point I let it slide, and carried on with my life as usual. The night before my birthday, he and his best friends called me at midnight (sounding very drunk), to wish me a happy birthday. They said they were drinking for my birthday. I smiled at the thought. It had little, if anything, to do with me, but they sounded happy – and I was happy for them.
I woke up in the morning, and gave up on the possibility of us spending this day with him.
I was busy doing my chores at home a few hours later, when he called me to tell me he was on his way. He arrived, and we left for a place called Alcon Cottages for lunch. He had my flowers in the car, and I was so happy.
We had what was my definition of a good time, back then. He spent half his time sleeping, but I did not care. I had a great day. The one person I wanted to get love from on that day had given it to me – and I was content. I took a few selfies, and he left for his city, 3 hours away.
The next day, I posted the selfie of us on Instagram, thanking him for making my day. He got mad instantly, asking me to take the photo down. He said he looked hungover, and I laughed it off and said “Well you were.” This got him angry, and he stopped responding to my messages.
I tried calling, and got no response. I called him best friend/housemate, who said Mr. Right was just gloomy that day. Minutes turned to hours, and by the next day, I found myself on a minibus to his city, to check on him to find out what was going on.
He responded to my messages near 24hrs later, while I was on my way to Blantyre. I did not tell him I was on my way to see him. I wanted to surprise him – kiss and make up, you know?
I arrived around midday, and let him know I was here. He told me he was not going to see me. I could not believe my ears. There I was, standing outside the hospital, his workplace. I stood there, as his workmates tried to convince him to come and just see me. There was not an inch of care in his voice when he told me to go back to Mangochi, where I had come from. That was the beginning of the end of my fairytale relationship.
If you are “woke” (I like this word), you begin to assess why they do every single they do. You begin to understand, you start to sympathise. So yes, I have never doubted his love for me. I remember the day he told me to walk away from him even after having told me he loved me – he has spent most of his life alone, how could he know how to be with another?
They might have isolated him, he may have isolated himself. I understand when he completely disregarded my emotions and crushed my very soul – how can he know how to take care of another when no one was there to take care of him? I understand why he cheated on me, and denied it like a sociopath – as much life as he had endured, it would take a lot to not let that turn you into a sociopath. I had to conclude it was that, or I will never get closure to the rumours and circumstances that never got any real explanations. I know he used her, and her and her… maybe even me to fill those voids he knew deep down they could not heal, voids even I… holding all his love, could not heal. Voids I, none of us created. Voids he needed to take a walk back into his past, to heal from. When you never learnt to heal, how could you be whole? I acknowledge he is broken, and I am sorry I was so gullible, and so desperate such that I thought I could save him, to save me.
Again, long after the finish line, I am inclined to say he was no unique being. The same issues I saw in him, I have seen in myself and a lot more around me. We are all dealing with things, unique as they may be, in different ways. The issue comes where we involve other souls in that process.
There were a few things I learnt from my second and last relationship. Firstly, no one is inherently bad. We are made by what happens to us. Some people have been through more than others, and the art of healing is way too excruciating; for some they would rather proceed living broken lives and making bad decisions with a complete disregard for the people they run over and through, in the process. Can you blame them? Everyone else disregarded them.
Second was that you cannot singlehandedly save someone. I recall the days his sister would tell me to fast with her to save her brother. I loved him enough. On God, I would have. However, I told her “darling, only he can decide to change. Only he can decide to heal and start anew. Till he decides, he will remain this.”
I saw her heart breaking, as was mine. A man we both loved and yet even together, could not save. Only he could do that. Better yet, we had to accept that it may not have been that he did not acknowledge that he needed to heal, but that even he did not know where to begin healing from his own pain.
You cannot save someone.
As for the statement that says “They are all the same”, perhaps, but it depends on where it is that you are standing. They were all born good. They all have had different experiences in life. They might have lost that good somewhere on the way, even at times not realising it. Then they dug their own hole deeper and deeper until they did not know how to get out.
I know now that you deserve someone that is on a pursuit of good. A pursuit to be good – good for him/her, good for you and good for everyone around him. As much as you are on a journey of healing, so should the person you love be. He/she should at the very least be able to acknowledge he/she is flawed, and be willing to be better, whatever the pain, knowing you will be right there holding him/her when he/she crashes. After all, isn’t that the essence of having someone in this life?
I repeat, that he/she is not to blame for your pain. Yes, he/she had a part to play, but these are the choices you made. It is all about you. As for the idea of Miss/Mr. Right, she/he might be out there; just make sure those qualities are not superficial. A human being remains what he/she is at the core. Look for good people, but do not try to save them from what life has done to them. Let them know you acknowledge their truth. Let them know you will be right there when it all comes crashing down. Let them know you will hold their hand. But do not try to save them. Only they can do that.
I stopped chasing flowers now. I stopped chasing dates. I stopped chasing fancy. I have received at least 5 bouquets since, ones I did not need to manipulate anyone for – and I am sure that my love is healthy.
I’ve had the most wonderful love in the past 8 months. Love that’s been candid, honest and loyal. Love that has gifted me flowers (and so much more) without my ever having to ask. Love that makes me feel special and wanted. Love that is good, love that is healthy.
I am not sure if I will get flowers today. I am certain that I do have the love my heart desires, and needs. So I found myself writing about the art of giving and receiving flowers.
Whether you received flowers today or not, this is from my loving heart to yours.
Happy Valentine’s Day! ❤
All my love,
Ntha x
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