A nocturnal chat with a female UIte

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It was on a cold Friday night sometimes in June, 2018. That evening, I had just finished reading at Kenneth Dike Library. A spirit which I believed was of the Lord told me to take the Tech-Awo road and then enter Katanga Republic through Idia hall. As one that was being led by the spirit, I yielded to my inner man and so I began my trekking in earnest. By the time I got to the zoological garden, the night was already creeping in. The moon had come out and was about to start its journey across the sky.
As I got to Faculty of Technology, I noticed something unusual. I saw something in the image of a woman. Of course it was a woman upon close examination and an Idiate I would later find out! She had a rotund body that fitted perfectly well in her blue gown. She was sitting on the ground without realizing it. The moonlight was somehow fixed on her beautiful face. From the other side of the road, I walked over to her side and she didn’t even notice me. That got me worried. Besides being a lonely road for most of the night, that part of the school is not particularly safe.
“Hi,” I said as I got closer. At first she was silent and then she decided to reply with a warm smile. “Aren’t you scared of being alone here?” I asked her.
“If you know what is going on with me, you would just leave me alone and go your way,” she answered. But I refused to go my way. Instead I persuaded her to open up. After all, a problem shared (although it is the person’s problem) is half solved. That is what people say.
“My mother was right when she said all men are dogs,” she said immediately I helped her up. She adjusted her gown and placed her bag gently on her arm. By that time, she appeared impeccable and she knew it. But that was not the issue that night.
“I guess you are having a bad time with your man,” I ventured. I wasn’t sure but that seemed true. As we talked, I saw emotion built up in her voice. I could sense her heart tearing apart and she couldn’t hide it. She was overwhelmed by emotion that she began to cry when we started walking towards Idia hall. The moon focused on her face as if it was listening to our conversation. That night, she said, was the first year anniversary of being with her boyfriend. As a dutiful lady, she said as she continued her story, she went to his BQ along Imo road before the time they both agreed to go out together for a movie at Ventura. She met the door unlocked and she walked in without the occupants having an inkling of her presence in the room as the room was dimly lit. According to her, she heard a lady moaning but she thought it was one of the girlfriends of the guy that had come to visit her boyfriend. But upon close examination, she said, it was her boyfriend making love to her best friend through whom they had met. That hits me hard.
“There is no way you wouldn’t have seen this coming,” I told her. She nodded in the affirmative. But her love for him didn’t allow her suspect him of being capable of such an insidious act.
“He appeared real when we first met. I guess I love him too. Maybe I am the foolish one here” she replied. As we caught a glimpse of Idia Hall, we decided to sit somewhere around U&I to finish our conversation. “You know why I am crying?” she asked immediately we sat down. I was silent. I am not God that I should know all things, I joked. She wasn’t moved at all.
“This same guy raped me the first time I visited his BQ,” she replied to the joke with a tearful smile. I asked what she was still doing with the guy up till that night. A guy that raped her upon her first visit to his BQ had no regard for her and she should have known he was after her just to satisfy his urge, I told her. She scoffed and asked what she could have done differently. As a lady that she was, she told me, she felt an attachment to him as if he owed her something after the rape that was also her first sexual experience. She said she always readily gave herself to him thereafter because she didn’t want him to break her heart. But she was wrong, she lamented. She switched on the torch on her phone and shone it on her face. There was a swollen spot on her left cheek. The guy had hit her severely when she confronted him! She quickly added that it wasn’t his first time of hitting her.
“Have you ever hit your girlfriend whether she’s right or wrong?” she asked me. I knew an affirmative answer to the question would only confirm her fear that all men are the same.
“No,” I answered. “If there is a need for one of us to beat the other, it would be her hitting me because I always look for her trouble.”
“I am the most foolish person alive. I feel so bad right now,” she cried. Was she really stupid? I asked myself. There is no way she could have seen his heart.
“With all the assault, I still clung to him like a fool,” she said. “What type of man would beat the woman he claimed to love?” she asked. “He is a coward.” She said she regretted the number of days she had spent parading herself as his girlfriend and how she couldn’t control herself anytime he asked her to grace his bed.
“You should have known that making love to a man at his beck and call is not a guarantee of love,” I told her.
“It is even annoying what you guys do. You go about telling your friends when you make love to a woman,” she complained.
“Because people like you made it possible,” I replied. “It is good you find this out early. A broken relationship is better than a broken marriage,” I said.
“Who says I would have loved to marry him?” she asked.
“Are you saying you have wasted your time over a relationship that has no future?” I parried her question.
“I can’t possibly come to this university without having a boyfriend. Do you know what it feels like living in a female hostel without a boyfriend? I only want to have a feel of how keeping a relationship is like,” she answered. She got what she wanted then, I said to myself. But she heard it and asked me if she was the one to be blamed or the guy.
“Far be it,” I said. “You should just be careful who you give your body to. As it is often said, when things like this happen women are at the disadvantaged end of it. If you tell your story to an elderly fellow that you think would understand, he or she would blamed you more for cheapening yourself in a way that make guys feel as if they have a done good thing breaking your heart. You still have a long way to go in life and wrong attachments should not be at the foundation of that journey. And in case you can’t keep yourself till marriage, make sure you only give it to a deserving guy,” I advised. “Many guys just want to get beautiful girls like you laid to boost their ego after which they lay you off,” I quickly added.
“Thank you,” she thanked me. As if in a moment of trance, she hugged me tightly and I felt like a baby in her warm embrace. The hug was rather surprising but it was pleasing. But more importantly is the fact she shared her story. This is not a moment to say sex before marriage is right or wrong but to say that some things are better done with the right person.
As we walked towards Idia Hall, she confessed she felt as if a heavy burden had been lifted off her shoulder and she would try to forget the guy and her best friend for betraying her. That was the last time I would see her. But I hope she is doing well with her recovery and had also learnt her lessons.
Peace shall be upon all that would read this story and learn from it and not just read it for reading sake because it is a fiction.

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