I didn’t think I’d find that person. Part of me never wanted to. That I won’t face the reality of love. Messy and all. I wanted to stay in dreamland. To conjure convoluted experiences. To summon emotions subconscious drank. I didn’t want to live fully. Then, she showed me how.

It’s not that the people who are in serious relationships are better off than those who are not because of their partners. I think many people who are in relationships go through harder times than their single counterparts. I’ve been single and I’ve been in serious relationships. I’ve been heartbroken, and I’ve broken hearts. I’ve also been in relationships where both of us knew we weren’t heading anywhere and just wanted someone to kiss more or less permanently. My take on relationships, their relevance, and when I think we start to benefit from this opportunity to share so much with another human, all these are solely based on my personal experience, conversations with friends, and books on related topics. Ergo, I’m not an expert and if you’re looking for data, studies, and research, it’s okay to stop reading this now. Still here? Awesome! I always felt happier in a relationship. I love the feeling of intimacy that emerges when two people commit to communicating their true selves to one another. Sometimes, I feel I love love. When I try to express this idea, I think of the relationship babies have with their parents; before they’re able to speak, before they can articulate their needs. A parent has to anticipate these needs. The only thing the child does is cry. As a parent, you need to figure out what this particular cry means, whenever it happens. The child grows steadily and their vocabulary is limited to: eat, shit, piss, cry, sleep, repeat. If you’ve ever had to babysit or raise a newborn human, you get the idea. Now, how do you think a parent knows when this wail is ‘Sleep’ and when it’s ‘Feed’? That, my friend, is the intuitive nature of parenting gained from panic, trial, and error, constant observation, coupled with prayers and frustrated self-talk. Enough with the babies though. I find that if you’re lucky, you find people who get you from Day Uno. Not just in a romantic way; friends, siblings, strangers; people who can read your mood and address them before you say a word. Most of us aren’t that lucky. Most of our parents weren’t either. Some of us cried for everything, and for nothing. Talk about being creative amarite? For the unlucky many, like me, being in a serious — committed — relationship with another human requires that we don’t assume what the other is thinking. It requires that we learn how to express opinions while being empathetic, kind enough to not attack the person while we’re angry, and caring enough to listen without judgment. If they’d told me I’d need this much work before understanding how to start being in a relationship, this would have saved a lot of stress for a lot of amazing women. Being in a healthy relationship with anyone, requires first, that you get a healthy relationship with yourself. Being in a great romantic relationship with anyone requires that you have an amazing relationship with yourself. As much as I love the intimacy of a stable, healthy romantic partnership, I’ve always been wary of my need for loneliness and private time. I brandish my introvert badge with chutzpah. But, deep inside, whenever I got with someone and I needed to take time off to replenish, I always felt guilty. I felt like I wasn’t ready . That if I really, really wanted a relationship, I would not have this need to be by myself. I handled this internal conflict badly and it, obviously, spilled over into the relationship. Worse, it didn’t end there: work, family, and life in general. Whenever I became single, usually as a result of the poor management of my internal conflicts, I’d find peace in solitude and bask in the wake of a burnt bridge and ‘new opportunities’. As you might extrapolate, this joy didn’t last. It wasn’t until I was done with me. It wasn’t until I was ready to accept myself, the good and the bad, the insecurities and gifts, the strengths and weaknesses. It wasn’t until I finally accepted that I wanted both intimacy and privacy, that I had major deal-breakers. That I had strong opinions, that I loved my work, that I had goals I was willing to die for. It wasn’t until I fell in love with my imperfect self, my one true love, that I was ready to be in a relationship of any kind. I don’t know if this applies to other relationships, but I find that there’s joy in communicating from a place of authenticity while staying open to opposing views and being ready to pivot perspectives when relevant. I loved being single. I admire single people. I don’t envy them, but I’d been there and I know the value of having all your life to yourself (mostly) and the possibilities that come with it. It’s an incredible opportunity for travel, growth, exploration and unrestrained self-discovery. I also love being in a relationship. I think it’s the nature of man to seek a lifetime partner for connection, exploring life and eventual DNA replication. *wink* However, my experience shows that many people aren’t ready to be in romantic relationships. Mostly because they’re not yet in relationships with themselves. I think we need to spend more time ourselves figuring out who we are, what we want, where we’re from, where we are headed, and why we exist. Or maybe I take things too seriously. Maybe I realized that a relationship has room for newer experiences that require humans who are comfortable with themselves to delve into an adventure that is a blink in the human timeline, but an eternity of connections, discourse and emotions. Before you ask someone to give himself/herself fully to you, know who ‘you’ is. Yours truly, Not a relationship expert.

They They didn’t hold hands; didn’t look at each other in the eyes as they walked on the street. They moved like brother and sister, with the unwritten intimacy of people who knew more about each other than they should. But they were different. Skin tones betrayed. Same for contrasting features and the overwhelming aura of trust. Even siblings wouldn’t want to be with each other for that much. He He was (almost too) scrawny. Grey shorts and a white T-shirt. Hands in his pocket and leather slippers. Head held high in the clouds. He looked around for potential disasters, slowing his pace to stay longer in the glow he so badly needed. He obeyed her commands — not in a servile manner. Rather with the underlying understanding that the fact that she requested his help was a vote of confidence, he could die for. He didn’t know if he loved her. He knew what it meant to be wanted, around her. She Words rolled out of her mouth with confident urgency. “It’s not bragging if it’s true”, she’d say about her pretty mouth and studio worthy features. She didn’t mind that he never messaged her often. Or that he lived with his parents.Or that a lot of his ideas hadn’t worked out in his previous life. She knew he had a plan. And now that they were together, she could make the business come to life. She had no doubts in her biz dev prowess. She could show you her portfolio if she had to. Then again, you’d have to pay for the mistrust. An issue she barely had with him. She knew she was falling for him. She didn’t know if he’d survive her audacity. You What you see is a pair made in heartbreak heaven. A woman who knows better than to trust easily and a man who has eaten the fruit of mistrust. You see a pair, walking without the need to express their deep attachment for each other to a world that only seeks to end good things. You see them laugh and share thoughts, in a world that promotes actions, not words. A world that forgets where true connections are made and the little known path to intimacy, mutual respect, and understanding. What you don’t know, is that in 10 years, these two will be together. The Scrawny Kid and the Pretty Mouth. Their mutual desire to understand each other will keep them in such a trance of affection that the world won’t be able to do anything but shower them with blessings and good fortune. They seem to play a game: patience, love, and honesty.

It’s in the sound of your voice. Who wouldn’t want you to whisper in his ears? Ah, now you’re being poetic. She sat beside him. Took off her orange shawl. The others settled around the small table. Their favourite spot in the bar. You think I’m being poetic? You see, the truth sounds like poetry. Because it rings with your soul. It tells you things you never knew were possible. Like how a kiss could stop time. It would sound great to hear that voice behind closed doors. She touched his feet under the table. Closed…open…does it matter?, he whispered, fingers maneuvering comfortably around her nape. When you’re together, body speaking to each other, does it matter? The buddies were now quiet. A few smiled. Others were uneasy. The ruckus in the lounge left a calming ambiance. But a kiss could steal my breath away. The small group jeered. She turned, winked at the ladies across the table. A short victory glow. When you discover that breathing isn’t as important as feeling the mix of flesh, souls, and minds…that’s when a kiss becomes a thief. There was a slight whimper from the hostess. They didn’t notice she’d never left after she took their order five minutes ago. Really? Yes. A thief of place — and time. You see, a kiss leaves no trace — except a rift in your memory. Of the taste…the sound…the touch — That’s when the body speaks in a language only the emotions can understand. She leaned closer. Almost tasting his breath. Who is the poet now? He mouthed. Kiss me already.

I’ve thought of the speech I’d give at our wedding; the books I’d write about us. How I’d use our partnership to give lessons on how to love and how our kids will be able to show other kids what being a parent means. Preposterous, isn’t this? I’ve thought of the labels we’d have in the beginning, the different stages of our growth. How hard it would be to read each other’s minds. How we’d learn to be efficient with communication. I’ve thought of the next decades: the changes, the discussions. The hard times. I don't think we will be able to fight for too long (and i love our fights!), mostly because we’ve become really good at talking and expressing the things we like — or don’t like — on the spot (and with respect). But, my love, we’re only human. I’m all too aware of how difficult it is to deal with the world outside and the world in our heads. I know we’ll be fine. I know we’ll find a way. You’ll probably think at this point: “ Ah, Mr. Optimist, no be so?” and you won’t be wrong. I am the optimist. But! If there is something I’ve learned from the last few years with you, it’s this: there is “optimism”, and there is “practical optimism”. I want to think here that this kind of optimism is a cousin to “hope”. I mean…if we didn’t hope to be happy, why would we bother? Eh? My love? Just like you’ve shown me “practical pessimism”, by always looking at what could go wrong; what may not work well. I must admit, I used to find fault in this…skill. Not anymore. I understand the value of hedging one’s bet. I understand the practicality of preparing for the worst. I still don’t believe in soul mates. However, the more I think about love and marriage, the rules of engagement, being a parent, family and choosing a life partner…the more I understand that it — love — is a daily choice. Every single morning, I look at you and I choose you. over and over again. Every time I think of how messed up I am, and how you look at me with those sweet, sweet eyes, I’m reminded, albeit my weaknesses, fears, and failures, that another human cares about me more (or as much) as my parents do. This is going to be hard. We’ve been down this road long enough to understand how precarious things are. I never considered how lucky I was to have you until I started thinking of how long we’ve been together. Remember that time when we had to break-up? Remember when I was too scared to tell you how scared I was? How my masculine brain ( is that even a thing?), thought that admitting my fears and worries and asking for help was going to make me less of a man. Now I know better. The key to what we have is vulnerability. I know I can trust you with all of me — good and bad. I want to trust you. I also know you have sides that aren’t stellar. I want to know you. All of you, my love. I will be here for you, as long as there is breath in this body. my partner in crime. Ifunanya Some things can not be put into words. No matter how long; no matter how intricate. There are feelings whose meanings only exist in other realms of expression. You have that way of looking at me that speaks volumes of affection. The way I always want to touch you when you’re around. The hugs that never end. The kisses I long for. And…the other things I only want to do with you. *smiles* But we are human. And this is English. And even though it’s not enough, I want you to know that I choose you every day. Ma babe… All I am, and have, is yours.

Loving you is like hanging from a tree. 15-year-old with strong calves, brushing against the low arched Guava, head in the wind, clouds conniving. Mama calling in the distance for the clothes on the line. Loving you is like tea after a short night. Sweet and light, clear and warm. No expectations. No exciting jolt to reality. Flowing through with ease and divine adjustments, regulating kidney and breath, justifying blankets and cough. Loving you is like a 98% battery after lights out. Comforting. Reassuring. A light for all things necessary. Source of laughter in the silent darkness of a Watt frozen world. Loving you is like a flowing tap on Saturday morning. Gushing with gusto; ready to wash the week’s trials and tribulations. Fervent in mission to cleanse and restore. No tempting trickles. So fuss. Just flow and glow.

I love you too. You know that’s as true, As the eyes, you see me through with. You’ve seen through my childish rants, My teenage angst, My depressive bouts and baby anger pangs. For this, and all the gifts I don’t deserve, I’m honored to love you truly. Surely, without modesty, I’m proud to call you family. I call your traits whenever we’re out. I love how you hate that I do it out loud. The way you hate when I speak fast every time when I pick you up from the airport from a journey we never thought would end. Alas, I say, here’s my love, my heart, my precious lass! Me and you, are just two fools, who want to see what dreams can do. Me and you, are just too full of hearts and wishes that we’ve chosen to be true. True to each other, to one another, One step after the other, Hugs no matter the weather. During mind storms and rainy fears, during clouds of doubt and unfired thunderstorms, we will be strong for each other, soft for each other. I’ll be your mother and you’ll be my father. You and I will form a team, from the theme we live, from the steam of our loins and the steel of our longings, from the toil of our hearts and the cries of our souls, from the wail of our nights, the union of our spirits, Until the end of our cosmic lights.