Walking Down The Memory Lane

I had long forgotten about her until today when I saw her alighting from what seemed to be the latest car model (am not quite good with car models). She had grown more beautiful, elegant, classy and was surely a far cry from those days back in high school. Until now, the only thing that tied me and her was some old rugged letter she had sent me while in high school. I had kept that letter for posterity, to act as a memorabilia for the old good days when the world was unpolluted with the ills of today, when love was professed in long letters and text messages were nonexistent. Back in the day, social media was a concept yet to be realized and face booking was an alien phenomenon.

We didn’t seduce girls through text messages, or sent them emails, or called them using anonymous numbers. No! We were quite the specialists, quite the realists, quite the lovers or so I like to think. Back in the day, you had to meticulous plan your move, execute it with precision and make your point home in the most portent of ways. Movie theaters were not as common as they are today and so picnics away from the prying eyes of the rather straight society became the order of the day. I still remember the day I sat down in my dimly lit room (which also dubbed as a study room) to pen her what was ultimately a request for her to be my girlfriend.

In fact, when I look back, I can’t help but laugh at how naive and honest we were. It was as if love was based on how well you penned your interest. Whatever the case, it didn’t quite matter so long as the objective was achieved. After all, they say that the end justifies the means. To me, winning over jasmine was not a means to an end but an end in itself. She had come across as the quintessential girl friend, the kind you want to spend every moment with, maybe study together, maybe go to church together and in the unlikely of situations make stupid and baseless plans about the future.

I say stupid and baseless because such plans are usually made at the spur of the moment, informed by ignorance and at best infatuation. At that tender age, we didn’t know the difference between love, lust and infatuation. We purely acted on impulse. Chances are that maybe I liked her dimples, the way she smiled or the fact that she came from my neighborhood. There is also a possibility that I wanted her as my girl friend because it was expected of me. After all, I was 17 years old at the time, all my friends had girlfriends and therefore it was only proper that I do the same. I had bumped into jasmine a few times but never really told her how I felt. I was quite the shy guy; I was not versed in matters relationship and therefore felt more at home hiding behind the pen.

I was however intent on making my intentions known. So I wrote a short letter to jasmine. I clearly expressed my undying love to her, how I figured her and me in future, strolling in imaginable packs, happy, walking the talk. I told her how her beauty left me breathless (of course that was a lie-a necessary lie), how sleeping was a mirage especially when she invaded my mind, how I wish I could rearrange the alphabets, how I could comb the universe just to make her mine. It was the perfect alibi, the perfect trap, a missile intended to capture the heart, to melt it and make her mine. 

I remember telling her everything that soothes the mind and the heart, reiterated how ours, if given a chance, was a match made in heaven. It was all little child’s play when I look back or so I like to think. The rhetoric was not real and neither was it sincere. She was not as bright as such but I remember writing her that with her, I feel like the best in the world, like I could conquer everything lol. Of course, the only thing that happened is that my grades began to dip as I grappled with the obsession that was jasmine. I spent most of my time wooing her than I allocated time for studying. To cut the long story short, we became an item, spent all our time together, talking about unrealistic things and simply reveled in the feeling. After fourth form, I never saw her. We went separate ways never to here from each other. We never communicated and it’s like she never existed in my life. 

Fast forward and here she is, all elegant and sexy to boot. Things must have turned out well for her. She had grown big, she was no longer the girl I knew, and she walked with the aura and confidence of a middle class. She was probably married and I wondered if she remembered me. I approached her (hesitantly of course) not knowing what her reaction would be. I wasn’t interested in reawakening the silly wave of emotions we shared back then. I just wanted to say hi, maybe catch up and go our separate ways. So when I called her name, I was obviously not ready for the reaction. She blatantly told me she doesn’t remember anyone by my name and that she doesn’t do conversations on the street! Holy Moly! Was I that expendable? Is this what the world had turned her into? She couldn’t remember her teenage boyfriend? Goodness gracious! I was shell shocked; I walked away without saying a word inwardly wondering how the world can change people. 

Here I am dear diary, running through my old letters. I can’t help but laugh at that reply she sent me. And of course a line caught my eyes-“whatever happens, I will never forget you, I will always love you-for you’re the one and only that my heart beats for”. What happened to that? Am still seeking for answers dear diary. We all are indeed expendable! It doesn’t matter your race, creed or background. Nothing lasts forever!