Last updated on October 14th, 2025 at 01:20 pm
It’s been a while since the three-day training in Abuja and since I saw Angela’s status. Hassan has been here to visit and has left, life is back to the norm. I’ve been considering calling Constance for a bit instead of replying to her chats. Some people call this closure. For me, I’ve resorted to accepting whatever the outcome is. She might insist that we both wanted it, but I’m a hundred percent sure that I was abused; she might also come to see that she abused a child that was in her care and maybe apologise.
I asked Hassan what his thoughts were when he was around, although I didn’t say it was about me. Initially, he joked around and said it’s not a big deal. He said men were bound to desire sex learning at some point, so getting the training earlier is an edge. When I asked him about talking to the abuser, he responded that the training could continue. After a while, he got serious and acknowledged that it’s not something to joke about. Regardless, he suggested that it’s best to let bygones be bygones. He was of the opinion that there was no reason to seek closure, likening it to an abusive ex. ‘No one wants to talk to an abusive ex, let alone discuss the past abuse,’ he said.
I understood his view, but after reflecting and considering that she had been leaving me messages, I asked Hassan again what his perspective was. In his opinion, it’s best to completely block her and try to forget that she exists. But this person is probably a saint to my parents; she still goes home to visit my parents, and my parents respect and feel responsible for her. It can’t be easy to erase her and the nasty memories she left me with. Also, that’s what I’ve been doing for years, yet it all caught up with me.
Now, I have nothing holding me back from calling her but every time I attempt it, I get a mini panic attack; my chest constricts, sweat coats my forehead, my throat tightens and I end up postponing it. On the plus side, I’ve really taken to working out my emotions in the gym. Many days I’m sore but every day, I feel better after my sessions. It’s also helped with my mild insomnia and nightmares. A part of me knows that I have to talk to my parents too. I don’t know how that’s going to work out.
I want to sweep all of this under the rug, after all, I’m a grown man. At twenty-seven, living alone and being able to fend for myself, something that happened over ten years ago shouldn’t be a big deal anymore; it shouldn’t hold this much power over me. My body doesn’t seem to understand that I’m not a kid; a part of me still feels like I’m stuck in that scene, the first time she touched me. Sometimes, I wish I could go back and even react differently. The past is refusing to stay in the past.
Another thought that has been a strong contender is of Angela. I might be a creep here but I’ve gone back to look at her pictures more times than I can count since that day. She’s still as beautiful as she was; she’s even better. I almost forgot how tall she is, Angela’s got legs for days and the picture perfectly captures her height. I could talk about her long legs for hours, but there’s something about her face which initially attracted me to her the first time I saw her in that class. There’s nothing subtle about Angela. The first time I saw her, I noticed features that I typically wouldn’t, her full dark brows, round nose, high cheekbones, full lips and thick hairline. They all come together and blend with her light brown skin. Whew!
Apart from the gym, when I’m down, I bring up memories of her and look at her pictures and weirdly, I feel calm. This is wrong; she’s probably married, though I didn’t see a ring on her finger. I hope she isn’t. I didn’t know that it was possible to have such strong feelings for someone that I haven’t seen in five years; we never even dated. Anyway, I’m not mad at myself for finding a temporary outlet. I wish she would upload more pictures; maybe I can make a collage, something really cute to view first thing every day. She’s gradually becoming my angel, even if she isn’t aware.
