To All The Boys I’ve Loved (Entry 6)

Hi Tyza

I don’t know where you are right now but I hope this meets you well. You were my first. I know I never told you but you were. I am sorry for ghosting you after we had sex for the first time, but truth is, I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t ready for a relationship of any sort, even if it was going to be purely sexual. I remember that day clearly though. I remember how excited you were when I told you my brother and I would be passing through town on my way to see my aunt. For someone who sucked and still sucks at telling lies, I should definitely give myself some praise for whatever lie I told that was convincing enough to make my brother let me stay back with you and come by later.

Remember how you hugged and squeezed me at your bus stop that hot afternoon without a care in the world? You smelled really nice. You know I miss those times when I could be openly affectionate and not have people stare at me suspiciously.

Tee, I know this might not justify my reasons for ghosting you, but like I said, I wasn’t ready. Here’s why.

A few months after we moved to the South-West, I started texting this guy on Facebook after we met at a church dinner. This was after my sisters urged me to make friends, as I was the only one in the family who didn’t have any friends. They always felt I was socially awkward and uncool, so it was a bit of a relief when I started texting and hanging out with this guy. Let’s call him Belema.

So Belema had been coming to see me at the house for about two months after the dinner at church. We were really cool. And because he was seven years older than me, I looked up to him for advice and guidance as my big brother was hardly there to talk to. I liked him. I liked how he made me laugh. I had a crush on him. Yeah, I thought he was cute.

I went to see him at his apartment off-campus one evening when the most unexpected thing happened.

I was raped. Belema raped me.

I never told anyone. I couldn’t. So yeah, when I told you that you were my first, I technically wasn’t lying. You were the first man I willingly gave my body to.

I remember continuously staring out the window as Belema and I talked and laughed about Yoruba people and their never-ending relationship with what I called “the H-factor” that seemed to generally flaw their spoken English. I was happy to see him but there was a tension in the air that I couldn’t not notice. I remember him taking my hand and placing it on his crotch to make me feel his hard-on through his boxer-shorts. Everything after then is now a blur. I want to remember, but I can’t. even after all this time, I think I need to see a therapist. I need to face that memory and get it over with. I can’t take all the pain that would surface in an attempt to feel by telling the story. I’d probably pass out. Yeah, my body cannot handle stress. When I get really stressed, I pass out.

After that afternoon at your apartment where we made love, Tee, I started to feel a conflict of emotions. It was like my body and mind were at war with each other. I couldn’t stop remembering. I couldn’t stop remembering how you always looked me in the eye and said, “You’re beautiful.”

If only Belema had been that kind, maybe I wouldn’t have been so scarred. Having to relive that memory by writing to you is hard, Tee. I was weak. I was too weak to defend myself from a man who made me stay put while he dug into my insides, ignoring my tears and constant pleas to let me go with the excuse that I was just pretending not to enjoy it. It was hard, Tee. It was so hard to live with that.

I have forgiven myself for breaking your heart, but I owe you this apology. I’m sorry your very first had to be with someone who was so broken and so mad at himself because the only time he let someone into his space, he got hurt. You showed me love in its purest form and instead of embracing it and letting myself heal, I ran away. I was a broken teenager that needed healing. I found it in doses each day I said “I love you” but I guess there are some wounds time cannot fully heal; the scars would always stay as a reminder of a horrible experience from the past.

It took years for me to try to open up to anyone again. For a while, I sincerely hoped that person would be you; but then that’s stupid. You would forgive me but you would never forget. You were so, so tender, Tee.

I hope whatever I did didn’t make you lose the innocence I saw in your clear eyes when you stared into mine that afternoon. I hope you now understand that my leaving wasn’t because I was a slut like everyone else you’d heard of who just wanted a quick shag and bounce. You’re a good person, Tee. Don’t let anyone take that from you. I wish you have the best life. Take care of yourself.

Love, Olly.