Lost Opportunities- what might have been.

Finally got around to doing this. I am sure at one point in life, there, must have been that special somebody you have had a crush on. Some times it works out, sometimes it doesn’t and that is what I want to blog about. I have never told this aspect of my growing up to anybody but I think the time is ripe to let go of what needs to be let go of. Happy reading. I was 16 years old, he was 24 years old. I had known him since I was 12 years old when I accompanied my mum on a vacation to his home country. We lodged at their family house (they are friends of my family).
I used to have this huge crush on him at that age but it remained what it was- a crush. He never saw me as a girl “he could date” cos I was obviously very young. I did not complain at all, I took delight in just watching him. I would watch him when we were watching movies in the living room. Rather that watch the movie on display, I would content myself just watching him and wishing he were my boyfriend. OH! How I hated myself for being a kid.
All’s well that ends well. Our vacation finally came to an end and we came back home to Nigeria. The years went by and by the time I had gone back to his home country for another vacation after my S.S.C.E; I was a “big girl”. I went there to spend the one year wait before going into the university.

One day as I was cleaning my mum’s friend’s settee, I heard a cough behind me. I straightened and looked to see who it was and who did I see? My childhood crush. He practically raked me with his eyes. He said,” what a big girl you have turned out to be, and a beautiful one, too.” I was flattered, to say the least but I managed to say thank you. He told me he had moved out of the house and was living on his won, he had found a job and that he just came to drop some stuff for his mother. He left with a promise to show me around during the weekend.
He took me out that weekend and that was the beginning of a good friendship. We were so close that he could tell me anything and I , him(except my feelings, of course).

We felt comfortable in each other’s company. It really used to cave me in when he told me how badly his girl was treating him, I even witnessed it on some occasions. I kept wishing he would see beyond his nose and notice me- in the way I wanted him to.

Somehow, word filtered to his mother (my mum’s friend) that we were too close for comfort. She called me and instilled some fear in me, that I was too young for relationships and that I should face my studies first of all. Need I say from that day, I avoided him like a plague.

At last, I gained admission into the university and so it was time for me to go home. I was happy and sad at the same time. Happy because I was starting school, sad, because I was leaving him and did not know when I would be back, that is, if I would ever be back there.
Back home, while I was unpacking my stuff, I noticed a small note with a note saying “CALL ME WHEN YOU GET THIS “ with a number scribbled on it and it was from him. I made a mental note to call him but somehow, it skipped my memory.(I did not have a mobile phone then to store the number) and so somehow, that note got missing.

Four years later, one degree later, I was observing my siesta when I was awakened by my phone ringing. I picked it up and checked the ID, it said unknown. I picked the call and after the usual greetings, I asked who was on the line. The voice was a male voice and he responded, PETER. I asked, “Which Peter is this”? and he confirmed the one I thought it was. I asked him how he got my number and he told me he collected it from one of my friends there. He told me he was calling to invite me for his wedding! I felt like someone had kicked me in the stomach. I could not utter a word for a long while. He said,”When you did not call me after all these years, I assumed you had moved on and did not want to have anything to do with me, it was painful for me, but I had to move on.” I did not know what to say. Somehow, we got through the conversation.
We kept in touch and the wedding came and went. There was no need for me to cry over spilt milk, life goes on, or so I thought. A few days ago, I received a call from him and he was telling me how much he regrets marrying who he married, how he married because there was so much pressure on him to get married so he just got the nearest available girl and married her. I felt bad too, but I told him there was nothing I could do about the situation. I told him to live with it because marriage is a lifetime thing. I asked him to stop calling me, that he should devote more time to his marriage and make it work. Maybe we were not just meant to be. But sometimes, I cannot just help but imagine what might have been, if it had been.
Funny enough, the pen I am using to put my thoughts down is a souvenir from his wedding bearing their names and I find myself unconsciously wishing it were my name on it. I moved on since, but I cannot just stop thinking what might have been, if it had been.