The Introvert Guide to Falling in Love
27th August 2022
Ibadan.
Disclaimer and possible spoilers: These are my opinions, and no, it doesn’t end well. If you’re expecting a ‘real’ guide — scram. I’m just ranting.
One thing is certain.
I’m a fool.
A fool at 40? No. A fool in love? Maybe. Maybe not. Not sure what I feel anymore. But boy, am I tired of the emotional charade and mental cycle of figuring shit out at the talking stage.
Do you reckon I’m crazy?
Phase One: A Partnership of Convenience
On January 1 this year, I began a “Partnership of Convenience” with the most boring, intellectually-inept cum distant guy I’ve ever met. I’d settled with my eyes open.
Why?
I was lonely, and my nigga was the only one emotionally available. That aside, I’d spent over one year in Ibadan with nothing to show.
The Universe fixed that by sending this lovely, thoughtful man who was available but not quite what I was looking for.
It was convenient. I could get out of the house with a companion, visit places I probably wouldn’t go on my own, ‘cos I’m socially awkward and do not hear nor speak Yoruba.
You see, I’m making conscious effort to come off my awkwardness. That’s why I condoned the shallow conversations outside my comfort zone.
The sex too was shy of -1. Utter shite.
It was a clear cut agreement. I wasn’t using him and made the caveat clear from the start.
This was an open partnership of convenience.
I paid my bills and his, sometimes. I reimbursed every penny and ensured I didn’t take him away from his daily hustle.
His transient companionship was all I’d wanted. And soon, I got tired of it.
Phase Two: Hello, My Favorite Person!
You must be thinking, why all the roundabitism? Trust me; I’m getting somewhere.
In May, I started a giddy friendship with an Adonis on Facebook. It was off and on at first. Then, in August, things went full-drive and crashed.
I know, I know. But, calm your tiddies and listen.
I’ve always hated fine ass guys.
It’s nothing personal, but preference. I also have this notion; “the finer they are, the uglier their personality.”
And I’ve never been wrong.
I don’t count myself as drop dead gorgeous. By society’s standard, I’m a solid mid; and that’s okay. My self awareness is the only thing I have going for me, and I have accepted this cold, hard truth.
So, in case you haven’t noticed, my earlier premise doesn’t apply to me.
Anyways, back to ‘my’ Adonis.
Whatever happened, happened fast.
This is two days post first-and-last date experience with him and my emotions are coordinated, but still sore.
I was mad excited! I counted the days, nights and everything in between. We were in constant talks — fantasies growing in wet areas; a fuckin’ algae!
Not to mention, the cuddles 🥺, dry jokes, and goofy games — I even made a list of games to play to that effect — you know, things you do with your favorite person?
Of course, I told my best friend about this spontaneous development and she called it (you know, him?) a walking red flag.
In her words, “You’re probably just horny. Get your head out your fucking ass and think!”
And I went, “What’s the worst that could happen?”
“You’re not seeing the glaring red flags because — durh!” She spoke in a ‘high-pissed’ tempo that afternoon.
Good thing all conversations were held over the phone, ‘cos if it were physical, only heaven knows what would’ve happened.
“You said he is fine like ten people; fine people have fine wahala, abi?
“Yup,” I replied, knowing where the conversation was headed.
“Then, why don’t you save yourself the heartbreak and let him stay in a bed and breakfast? Y’all can have dates in public places like serious adults.”
I had an ear full. Was she right? Sure!
My counter argument? “We’ll hang out in a public place as soon as he arrives.”
Or, at least, that’s what I’d planned. Safe to say nothing of the sort happened.
The problems started as soon as we got in.
You ever seen someone complain about a lack of pepper in Nigerian shawarma — or any shawarma at all? If you have, you probably have a picky eater, or a fuckin’ perfectionist. My nigga was both.
And that wasn’t the half of it.
It’s common sense to politely tell your host of your allergies, and maybe, food preferences, then contribute in one way or another, yes? Or better still, your preferences be damned (esp if they’re just getting to know you, and you’ll be staying a while).
It’s courtesy. Be a gracious guest, as you’d like them to be a gracious host.
There was an issue with everything. From fresh ginger and garlic in beef broth to preferring a less spicy stew. And oh! There was this one issue with the omelette I made. Picky, much?
Now, not to make a fuss about food or any of that, but I had expectations. At the very least, be accommodating. Again, that’s common sense. I didn’t get any of that, and knew then and there, what we had going was dead on arrival.
Phase Three: Closure
I didn’t get any. Neither did I think there was any need to. I simply detached myself as I had attached it and went on my merry way.
Of course, Casper the Friendly Ghost visited, and right now, I don’t know if said man is dead or alive. The beautiful thing about being self aware is that you tell yourself the hard truths, especially the ones that are total fuck ups.
This one was an absolute fuck up. Hard truth. But, yeah.
Introvert and In Love
We introverts have it rough.
Therefore, if like me, you’re an introvert (and insane) and find it hard to get past the talking stage, your concerns are valid. Our deepest desire is to share our sacred space with someone special, without getting overwhelmed.
I’ve long accepted that it’s easier for a camel to pass through the eyes of a needle. Even as a millennial woman, there are many things I’d never subscribe to online. For instance, the Wokeism of Modern Dating.
Here’s my take: Rather than the pseudo-science of Zodiac signs, if introverts paid closer attention to their Attachment styles and temperament, there just might be a possibility of finding love.
P.S: The bottom half of this piece was written on December 30, 2022, with the top half written earlier in the year. Why? In the end, I simply lost interest and got distracted, but it needed to be published while it was still relevant.
