Being His Spec

Earlier today, I saw a thread on Twitter about being your spec’s spec. Then an extremely hilarious post by Victor Daniel about breaking up with a person who has a great looking ex, brought back two sets of memories. The first was about a man, an old friend and the second is about my little cousins.

 

I met a certain young man when I was in 200 level, he was in the faculty of life sciences and was in his third year. We met at the field between Basement and Pharmacy, it was our reading spot at the time. He was funny and interesting, we liked the same kind of books and stories and we could spend hours talking.

 

While we both were attracted to each other, neither of us acted on our feelings because we were trying to keep head above water in the turbulent sea of Uniben. So we stayed friends for several years, even though one of my friends never failed to remind me that he adored me. He had charmed her you see, that was what he was – exceedingly charming.

 

He left school and eventually got a job at a bank, I finished school and began internship at a federal hospital. One day, he sent a message about wanting us to meet up at The Palms, he was working that Saturday and it was near his office. We hadn’t seen in more than a year at the time.

 

From that first outing, we began to hang out nearly every Saturday – or Sunday, if I had Saturday call. It was two friends hanging out, exploring Lagos – there’s literally nowhere on the island we didn’t touch. Like me, he liked to explore or at least he pretended to. This was what I thought, we were just friends.

 

Just before Valentine’s Day of 2014, Bros let me know through a series of deft moves that he considered me his girlfriend (the story of the whole thing is too long for this post). I decided to give it a trial run because I was single, I’d always liked him and we were compatible. He disregarded the trial and began to act as if we were the real deal.

 

Soon after, Bobo began to complain about my weight, he wanted me to be svelte so people wouldn’t say he was with someone who was bigger than him. He was very short, like really short but I didn’t even mind.

 

Usually, when a prospective love interest makes a comment about my weight, my interest in him dies. But I wasn’t even bothered by Bobo’s comments, that’s how I knew I loved him.

 

And so began a season of nagging and complaining, he decided I was to do the Cambridge diet. At the time, the thing cost 50,000 for two weeks and he was willing to commit to funds for four weeks for me. He was also clever enough to link his desire that I lose weight to a certain health issue I was going through at the time but I saw through it. I can’t be friends with a person for seven years without knowing how they think.

 

 

He also tried to hammer on my penchant for T-shirts and casual shorts, he would try to lead us into stores to get the kind of clothes he wanted me to wear. After several encounters with my stubborn side, he gave up trying to change my fashion choices.

 

 

I joined a weight loss BBM group created by Nelly Agbogu, that group was intense. I often wondered if most of those women were on crack, the exercises they did were crazy and they would put up videos of themselves doing those crazy and intense workouts. I stayed on my lane and did the exercises that were within my limits.

 

There is a certain Jane on that group who lived in Lekki at the time, that woman has my ultimate respect. If I ever meet her, I might kiss her feet for she is not human but a well-crafted exercise machine.

 

But my efforts and results were not enough for the Bobo, he continued to complain and insist on Cambridge but I still couldn’t even comprehend the idea of using 75-100k for weight loss something, it wasn’t my money but I still couldn’t imagine spending that kind of money.

 

I told him the money was better spent on a vacation for us both in Ghana or something, he arranged for the vacation and insisted I had to do the Cambridge thing before we left. So I could rock a bikini at La Campagne Tropicana.

 

We were at Elegushi Beach in May, when we saw a certain beautiful lady and he called out to her. She was his colleague at work and they chatted for a bit, she was pretty friendly. When she left, he told me how he had a crush on her for a long time and was actually sad when she got married.

“She’s your spec,” I said

“Totally,” he replied quickly, then he realised what he had said.

 

He began to explain that while she was a crush, he had loved me all those years and I was the love of his life. I smiled and said nothing, I remembered how he had gushed over certain women in the past and I saw the pattern, they were all slim, light-skinned and very beautiful. Something in my head started ticking.

 

“So, if I do this Cambridge and lose weight, would I become your spec?” I asked and he stammered an incoherent answer. We left the beach holding hands and he stretched every thirty seconds to kiss my cheek, but I knew it was over.

 

I haven’t seen him again since then, we broke up six weeks after. He finally accepted my decision to end things and my advice to find someone who pleases his heart. He is married now, married to a woman who looks like a clone of the woman we met at the beach.

 

Every time I remember him, I say a quick prayer of thanksgiving for deliverance. I could have been there still, negotiating my appearance and his approval while swimming through deep unhappiness.

 

Chukwu Nna ekwela ihe ojoo. Snapping my fingers as I circle my left hand around my head

 

 

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