I had heard of how the moon's rays dance in your lover's eyes as she throws her head back and laughs in that way that always makes you smile. I had heard of staying up all night, daring MTN or whatever network providers you use to cut your loving chatter short. I had heard of falling so in love that the floor becomes your bed and you plant flowers in those flowerbeds- flowers of love, of warmth, of hope, of "You hang up. No, you hang up."
I had watched Emeka Ike and Genevieve Nnaji play their foolish love games on my screen. He would see her off to her house, she would see him off to his, and they would go back and forth, until one of them finally regained their sanity, however temporarily.
I had heard of love, of how it renders an armed man weak and vulnerable, of how it caused Samson, the strongest man who ever lived, to lose his life, his strength, his valour, to the honey-sweet laps of a woman.
Despite all of this, I was unfamiliar with love's game. I had no idea just what it meant to have someone in whose hands lie your doing and your very undoing. I didn't know just how powerfully wrecking love could be.
I'm not sure how or when it started. Maybe it was that first time I accidentally called her on her birthday. Maybe it was the other time I bought a random pack of chocolate only to see that it had her name on it. Maybe it was that first night she sang to me. I'm not sure when it started. All I know is I fell. Badly.
It went from calling her once in a week just to check on her, to being physically unable to sleep if we did not call.
"Bito," she had started on one starry night on my verandah, the moon's rays playing hide and seek in her eyes.
"Yes?" I said, smiling. God. I was so gone.
"Do you think obsession can be a healthy thing?" This was one of the things I loved about her. These random questions that were never random.
"Between you and me, Cherry, I think healthy's overrated." I fed her a piece of the honey glazed BBQ wings in front of us.
"I'm serious joor," she said laughing.
"I'm serious too. Look at us na. I weigh 98kg, and I'm here eating chicken wings by 2am with the love of my life. You shouldn't be without your inhaler, but the lighter in your hands say otherwise."
She let out a fake gasp. "Wow. Shots fired!" I laughed with her this time.
"You know I'm right sha. Healthy is overrated. If we all tried to live 100% healthy lives, we would be frozen in time, unable to move, unable to breathe, because shocker! Even the air we breathe is poisonous."
"Hmmm. So, if I get you, you're saying obsession isn't healthy, but then living really isn't?"
"Yep. I mean, no matter what you do, we're all living to die anyways, aren't we? Seems like such a waste to let all of your glorious life pass you by just so you can live according to some social construct."
She didn't say anything after this. Just ate more wings and stole more glances at me.
It was maybe 5 minutes after when either of us spoke again.
"If my obsession with you is unhealthy and unhealthy is living, then I hope I never stop obsessing over you," she whispered quietly, taking another piece of wings.
I had heard of the moon in your lover's eyes, I had heard of staying up all night, I had heard of planting flowerbeds in your lover's heart, but I had never heard a line so true, a line so pure. I guess that's why despite our so-called mutual breakup, she now stays in the back of my van, blindfolded and tied up, so she may never run from me again.
Because she promised me to never stop living and I will do all it takes to remind her of that promise. Even if it kills me.