I Was Used
This evening, I sat down at CEC quadrangle and couldn’t help but noticed a boy and a girl holding hands in a lovey-dovey manner. I was enjoying my bottle of chilled star alone looking rather aloof. I smiled as I watched these lovebirds who, I suppose are students of this university, giggling at each others joke. The girl was tall, beautiful and elegantly dressed. The guy who was obviously enjoying her company had a goatee; he was probably five feet-four and was putting on a well starched white shirt and black trousers. He looked like those pharmacy students who are either in their final or penultimate year. As for the girl, it was difficult to guess which department she was from. But, there was something remarkable about her_____ she was wearing the kind of hairstyle that Florence wore most of the time in our undergraduate days. Did I just say ‘our’…? I mean her undergraduate days. I had to correct that statement because, although Florence is now a graduate, I’m still an undergraduate despite the fact that we were supposed to have graduated the same time.
When I boycotted the 45th convocation ceremony of the University of Nigeria, I spent the whole evening crying a room. It was supposed to be my convocation, a happy moment but there I was blubbering like a child. And because I knew a lot of persons would be calling to ‘congratulate’ me, I switched off my phone because I didn’t want anything to remind me of how badly I had failed. I didn’t want to be reminded of the fact that I’m not graduating with my set. As my mates were at Nsukka celebrating, I curled up on the bed in my Uncle’s visitor’s room playing blues. I choose to visit Uncle Goddy at that time because I know that his house would afford me the kind of solitude I needed. His children were all grown ups and outside the country except for his last child, Kaodilichukwu, who is in Abuja in search of greener pasture. As Uncle Goddy and his wife were hardly around, I had all the time in the world to cry.
Having witnessed three covocations in my days as an undergrate, I know how ecstatic and blissful the atmosphere can be but, on that convocation Friday, there I was at Independence Layout in a ‘kingly’ apartment bemoaning while my mates were having fun as they waited to collect a certificate that would certify that they had passed in both character and learning. I felt really bad when on that night, I logged onto facebook and saw pictures of friends and classmates on their convocation gowns and well tailored suit. I was ashamed for having failed myself and family.
After crying my eyes out, I sat down thinking about what really happened. Where did I get it wrong? Why would someone who started his academic pursuit on a GPA of 4.5 not graduate with his set? Then it struck me!
My problem was Florence (or should I say Karma?). I met Florence at the later part of my second year in the university. She’s dark in complexion with a pointed nose that would make you think that she would be among the first to give up if God decided to reduce the oxygen in the air and makes it breath-in-as-much-as-your-nose-can-accommodate. She was in Biological Sciences and I was (or should I say, I am) in the Faculty of Physical sciences? One thing leading to another we became too familiar. Fast forward to 3rd year. Although I was no longer in first class, I was in a comfortable 2:1. I started loosing grip of myself when she started spending weekends in my house. I loved her company and she enjoyed the commitment, the love and, of course, the money I ‘lavished’ on her.
Things became a lot more lively when Florence came into my life but my academic began to suffer. Put it this way, the joy that she brought into my life was the bane of my academics. I started skipping lectures when she moved into my apartment. I was so fond of her that sometimes, when I’m in class I find it difficult refraining from thinking about her. This continued until in my third year second semester exam, I failed a prerequisite course. Those in Physical science, especially the department of Pure and Industrial Chemistry will understand what a prerequisite course means; once you goof in them, its an automatic extra year.
To make matters worse, Florence broke up with me in final year. I was heart broken because she couldn’t give me any singular reason why she doesn’t want to hang out with me again. She just said she was tired of being in a relationship and that she needed sometime to think about her life.
My X, Florence graduated with 2:2 in record time and was at the convocation. It was on that Convoc night, when I saw hundreds of pictures of hers on facebook that if dawned on me that I had not unfriended her. I had delected her from my mind when I heard from the grapevine that she was engaged to the son of a politician. I became vindictive, when I heard a week ago that she would be getting married this Easter. However, what’s my greatest concern right now is to write this my carry-over and leave this environment for good.
Sitting down in CEC quadrangle, and not knowing what to expect from the carry-over course that I have on Tuesday, I was reminded of Florence again by those two lovebirds who were lost in the company of each other.
As I stole a glance at them, my prayer is that their love story shouldn’t end like mine.
We received this write up last night in our e-mail firstname.lastname@example.org. It was supposed to constitute in the series of our Friday Night Stories but we just couldn’t wait for Friday to come before sharing the story, especial when we consider the fact that for some Fridays now we’ve not shared any story. We hope you learned one or two things from this true life story. Please, don’t fail to share this story. You maybe helping someone’s life by doing so.
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