The Single Girl Diary (Part Eleven)


“Does it ever stop?” I asked, my eyes blinking. “You know, I thought I was done, over him. But why do I still cry about him? Why does it still hurt when I think about it? Why can’t I move on!”

Ronke slid in beside me on the bed, pulling me to her ample bosom.

“I don’t have all the answers, honey. I don’t know why guys are jerks. I don’t know why we hurt over people who don’t deserve it…but does it stop? Hell yeah! Someday you’re gonna look back, smile, shake your head and tell this story at some party. Trust me…”

And I did.

Because I had nothing else to hold on to; just the hope that this too, shall pass.


Friday morning I awoke with a jolt; perspiration pouring down my face. I had just dreamed of T.Y.

It was something that happened every year whenever we celebrated our birthday. We’d both noticed it when we were eight years. The night before our birthday, we both had dreams that featured the other twin.

Nothing significant, mostly silly stuff. And it had continued for years. We couldn’t put a name to it. It was something that just happened.

Today, the dream was different. It was unpleasant. In the dream, my party was in full swing when suddenly T.Y walked in, a smile-that-spoke-volumes on her face. I began making my way towards her when Austin materialized behind her, donning a smile similar to hers.

When he spoke, his hands around my sister’s waist; the words were loud, above the music. “I left you because of her! Her! Her…”

I awoke with a scream.

I knew the dream was an accumulation of the thoughts and events that had happened recently and I made up my mind that it would not spoil my day. Today I looked life in the face and began another three hundred and sixty five days.

I didn’t want to spend today reflecting on my past; I wanted to start a new chapter of life. One devoid of bad memories and cowardly exes, one filled with fun, spontaneity and the joys of singlehood.

I wanted to be free! Free from emotional baggage. From tears. From hurt. From memories.


“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you…happy birthday, happy birthday, happy birthday to…you!”

I almost burst with love as I hugged my kids. They had remembered!

“Oh…darlings…oh, thank you so much.” I gushed, with a wide smile.

“We got you this, Miss K.” it was Ibukun, the spokeswoman of the class that presented me the big gift-wrapped box. “We also wrote you a poem. But…you have to read it at home, Miss K.” she continued.

“A poem? Wow! You guys are the best! Thank you so much!” I graciously held myself from tearing up.

“Any party, Miss K?” it was Nnamdi, my chocolate addict, asking.

“Of course. Tonight, if your Mummy would let you guys come,” I winked at them.


The gift arrived when I was preparing to go home. Suleiman, the school’s chief security officer, deposited a package on my table without any explanation apart from ‘na one Oga keep am for you.”

I was curious. Maybe my sister had sent something over. Or a friend of mine.

But why to my work place? Why not my home? And why didn’t the person come inside and deliver the package himself?

The package was a small box, wrapped in a pink and purple gift-wrapping.

Curiously, my fingers tore at it feverishly.

I gasped as I stared at the contents of the box; teardrop diamond earrings.

It wasn’t the contents that took my breath away, it was the fact that even if the gift had no label or card, I knew exactly who they were from.

What Do You Think?


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