Oh, girlfriends! 😂😂😂
Did I ever tell you about the time I had sex on a bridge? Or that unforgettable encounter at the highest seat in a stadium?
Ah, my darlings, your girl Gabi has lived!
I have stories that would make some of you clutch your pearls, cross your legs and ask for holy water. 🤣🤣🤣
But listen, ladies, there is one golden rule about adventures: never underestimate the consequences of getting caught!
Now, let’s talk about garden sex.
Shall we call him IGOR?
IGOR was as crazy as I was, and perhaps that was why we understood each other so well. He had this garden, and one day, in broad daylight, we decided to forget that we were two respectable adults who were supposed to know better.
Oh, my God!
We were practically reenacting Adam and Eve, except that our Garden of Eden had two very modern occupants who seemed to have temporarily forgotten their age and good sense. 😂
He was in his fifties, and I was in my thirties.
Two grown adults behaving as though the world had stopped turning!
The sheer audacity of it still makes me laugh. There we were, carried away by the moment, enjoying our little adventure in a place that was never designed for such private mischief.
Was it sensible? Probably not.
Was it memorable?
Absolutely!
Some memories refuse to fade, not necessarily because they were the most profound experiences of our lives, but because of the sheer madness, spontaneity and laughter attached to them.
Anyway, I digress.
I started this story with stadium sex, didn’t I?
Ah, my University boyfriend!
Let’s call him the Uromi man.
Now, that man deserves a chapter of his own.
He was good to me in ways that went far beyond physical attraction. He made me appreciate my body. He had a way of looking at me that made me feel beautiful, desirable and completely at ease in my own skin.
He called my body milk and honey.
Can you imagine?
Those words stayed with me because they were not merely about physical appearance. With him, I felt admired. I felt cherished. I felt like his favourite person, his pet and his muse.
He was my teacher, too, introducing me to a side of myself I had not fully discovered.
Our relationship was passionate, spontaneous and, by my younger self’s standards, wonderfully adventurous. We found excitement in unexpected places, and there were moments when we behaved as though we had the whole world to ourselves.
Looking back now, I sometimes wonder how we survived some of our youthful escapades without getting into serious trouble.
One memory, in particular, still makes me shake my head.
We were once intimate in a moving car, and I was so carried away by the moment that I failed to appreciate just how dangerous the situation was.
God, thank You for Your protection!
Seriously, girlfriends, youthful passion can make people forget that some risks are simply not worth taking. No romantic memory is worth a life-threatening accident. These days, I would much rather have the car safely parked!
But let me return to the stadium.
One day, we went to watch a show. At some point, we climbed towards the highest seats, and from there, I could see the entire stadium spread out before me.
The vastness of it! The open sky! The people below us, going about their own business, completely unaware of the private world two young lovers were creating above them.
And there, in that elevated corner, my Uromi man and I shared an intimate moment that became one of those memories time cannot easily erase.
Even now, more than two decades later, thinking about him brings a smile to my face.
It is extraordinary, isn’t it?
How can somebody who has been absent from your life for so many years still awaken such a warm, almost electric feeling inside you?
Perhaps some people leave more than memories. Perhaps they leave an imprint on the way we understand desire, affection and being loved.
And no, I am not saying that every unforgettable lover was necessarily the right person to spend the rest of your life with.
But the Uromi man was special.
Lagos was a different place then. There was no social media documenting every movement, no smartphones recording every indiscretion, and certainly nothing like today’s culture of instant exposure.
We were young, we were in love, and we believed we had time on our side.
But the most beautiful thing about him was not where we made love or how adventurous we were.
It was how he treated me outside those intimate moments.
He protected me.
He cared about the choices I made. He wanted me to concentrate on my studies and avoid the pressures that could derail my future. He discouraged me from getting involved in transactional relationships or seeking financial security through older, wealthy men.
He wanted more for me.
And in a university environment where young women could face enormous social and financial pressures, having somebody who genuinely cared about your future was no small thing.
He was not just a lover. He was a friend, a confidant and somebody who believed I was worth protecting.
He wanted to marry me.
Imagine that!
But my parents refused, citing ethnic differences. I was Igbo, and the differences between our backgrounds became a barrier to a relationship we had hoped would lead somewhere permanent.
At the time, I could not fully appreciate how much that decision would mean to me years later.
My good friend Omo had warned me.
She told me not to lose him because a man who loved me the way he did might not come into my life twice.
Omo, wherever you are, I hope you know that your words never left me.
You were right about one thing: the quality of love matters.
Not every man who desires you loves you. Not every man who makes your body tremble will protect your heart. And not every passionate relationship contains the kind of friendship that makes you feel safe enough to be yourself.
The Uromi man gave me something I have never forgotten: the feeling of being wanted without feeling disposable, of being admired without being diminished, and of being loved by somebody who wanted to see me do well in life.
Did we have our wild moments? Oh, absolutely! 😂
But when I think of him today, it is not merely the adventurous encounters that make me smile.
It is the young man who loved me, believed in me and wanted a future with me.
Sometimes, I wonder what would have happened if my parents had given us their blessing.
Would we have married? Would we still be together? Would the magic have survived the demands of everyday life?
Nobody knows.
Perhaps our story would have been beautiful. Perhaps it would have taken a different turn. Life does not give us the privilege of reading the chapters we never got to live.
What I know is that I was loved, and I knew it.
And more than twenty years later, that memory still brings me joy.
Some lovers leave your life. Others leave a little piece of themselves in your memories forever.
The Uromi man is one of mine.
Now, girlfriends, let me ask you something.
Have you ever had a lover who left such a deep impression on you that, decades later, simply remembering him still brings a smile to your face?
And have you ever lost somebody you loved because other people decided your love was not acceptable?
Come, let’s talk. ❤️
