I’m nobody. I’m not rich, not great looking, there’s no talent that makes me extraordinary and I don’t sweep women off their feet. I’m just an average guy with an average life, an average joe.
The only thing that makes me special is my daughter. To say she’s the light of my life would be an understatement. Her smile lights up the room. Her enthusiasm is beyond contagious. The way she sees the world makes me understand how important it is to live my life the right way.
She can bring this 40-year-old man to tears just by saying “I love you, daddy.”
So why am I sitting in a beer parlour alone on a Saturday night when I should be with her? That’s the real reason you should be interested in the story.
I’ve heard people say that life changes in an instant. We live on such a narrow edge that the slightest breath can cause us to spiral uncontrollably.
***
I was 27 and living an ordinary life when I met Bimpe. She was a few years older than me and had been a little more adventurous in her life. She was an attractive woman with a quirky personality. I think the thing that I appreciated the most was her sense of humour.
It was fun-loving with just a touch of cynicism. We quickly became friends.
We stayed close for a few months, watching each other go through one bad relationship after another. Finally, it seemed like a good idea to take a look at each other. It only took three dates for us to take things to the next level.
We went to my place after dinner, then straight to my room. Neither of us spoke. We just knew it was what we both wanted. I found out quickly she liked to be in charge and was quite aggressive.
She kissed me lustfully, her tongue searching for mine. I was surprised when she moved her lips to my neck and began lightly biting up and down the side. Her hand unbuckled my belt and reach into my boxers.
Without any preamble, she began jerking me off while moving her mouth to my chest. When my shirt prevented her from going lower, she dropped to her knees and took me in her mouth.
I groaned with pleasure. She took several inches of my very hard prick into her mouth and used her hand to cover the rest. I could feel her tongue swirling side to side across the underside of my shaft while she moved her mouth up and down. It had been a while since I had been intimate with someone, so it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes before I could feel myself reach the point of no return.
I warned her, “Bimpe, I’m cumming.”
She pulled back and stroked me quickly while using her other hand to catch my sperm. I guess you could say that it was a metaphor for our entire relationship. Big build-up, but not such a great finish. The eventual sex between us was good but not great. When we finished, I could sense that even though we both enjoyed ourselves, there was something missing. We were friends and probably shouldn’t have crossed that line.
We kept dating for a little over a month when we both came to the conclusion that we just weren’t compatible. It wasn’t a horrible breakup, just a parting of ways. Two weeks later, she called to ask if I would stop by. When I got to the door, she greeted me nervously.
“Could you please sit down? We need to talk.”
I thought that she wanted to give it another shot. Since I was still fond of her, I was prepared to say yes, if we could just take it slower this time. Instead, she said the words that shook me to my core.
“I’m pregnant.”
And life spirals…
“But…But you said that you couldn’t get pregnant!” I said, stunned. We hadn’t bothered with birth control because neither of us was promiscuous, and she had a medical condition that prevented pregnancy. Her doctor had said she wouldn’t be able to conceive even if she underwent treatment.
“I know what my doctor said, but I’m pregnant. There hasn’t been anyone else; it’s yours. What are we going to do?”
My head spun. The thought that maybe she would have an abortion so I could get off the hook flashed unbidden through my mind.
I was immediately ashamed. I have always wanted children, and there was no way I could ask for something like that. Luckily, she couldn’t either.
We talked about what to do for weeks. Finally, we agreed to do our best to make things work between us. We went through months of couples counseling, and I moved in to help support and take care of her.
Simisola was born shortly thereafter, and I couldn’t have been happier. She was perfect. Because the doctors did a C-Section delivery, she was born looking the way she would for her entire childhood. Her pictures from 3 months to 7 years looked just like the same person, only bigger.
The first 6 months were the happiest of my life. I had never been around babies, so I didn’t know what to expect. They depend on you for everything; food, protection, comfort and affection. She would look at me like I was her entire world. Love isn’t something you talk about or plan. It is just a given. The bond we forged was far stronger than anything I could have imagined.
Unfortunately, her mother and I weren’t so lucky. It turned out that our original decision to break up had been the correct one. There was no hope for us. Too different, too stubborn and painfully unhappy with each other. After helping her raise Simisola for 6 months, she asked me to move out, and part of me was relieved.
I was crushed to be leaving my baby girl, to have no more nights tucking her in or stopping by to kiss her head in the middle of the night, but she was right; it was time to go. Things were strained, but we managed to get along well enough until we had to go to court. Once the lawyers got involved, we went from not getting along to us actively hating each other. It didn’t happen overnight, but it took a depressingly short period of time.
I don’t know if it was the stress of not having control over our own fate or if it was just having to talk through third parties, but neither of us came out ahead. We argued, threatened each other and were consumed with each of us wondering what the other would do next to be spiteful.
Sometimes I felt like I was losing my mind. I disagreed with most of the things she did, from daycare to her dating life. We even used our daughter as a weapon against each other. To this day, the pain of that is as clear in my mind as any other memory.
I made it through three years of living week to week, just waiting for my time with Simi. We did everything she could want. I tried not to spoil her, but I wanted to experience everything through her eyes. Truth be told, I also was a little afraid of her not having the same kind of memories with me that she did with her mother. One of the biggest downsides of being a single father is the jealousy you feel toward the other parent.
Just after she turned four, I met Ebere. It was pure dumb luck. I had a small company that coordinated private parties. We provided the event planning, entertainment and catering. It wasn’t making me rich, but it was a fun job, and I enjoyed it. I was hosting a company dinner party for a friend named Alice. During the party, she introduced me to her daughter Ebere who had just flown in from Abuja to visit.
Ebere was 24 years old and had been a professional dancer for almost a decade. Unfortunately, she told me she had to give it up because of a string of injuries that left her with a number of knee surgeries, making any career in dancing impossible. She came to spend time with her mom while she figured out what to do with her life.
I found out we had a great deal in common. Talking with her was like hanging out with someone I had known for years. However, while I found her very attractive, I also believed in the axiom that you don’t mess around with clients’ daughters, so I was content to make small talk.
Usually, I was nervous around women I was attracted to, but I guess my feeling that nothing could happen allowed me to relax and be myself. We talked for over an hour, and I was enchanted. At the end of the night, I felt a pang of regret when I had to go home by myself.
Two days later, my cell phone rang. I didn’t recognize the number, so I hoped it might be a potential client. “Hello,” I said pleasantly.
“Hi, it’s Ebere. I was wondering if you were busy tonight. I don’t know anyone here, but I wanted to see the city. Would you be interested in showing me around?”
I tried to sound nonchalant but probably failed miserably. My stomach was doing cartwheels. “Sure, I would love to. What do you want to do?”
“Surprise me.”
“That’s a dangerous dare for someone in my line of business,” I said with a chuckle.
The moment I hung up the phone, the wheels started turning. Working in the entertainment business, I made great contacts all over the city. I made several calls and came up with what I thought would be the perfect date.
When I showed up at her mom’s place to pick her up, I was floored. She was beautiful at the party, but I underestimated just how beautiful. When she was made up to go out on the town, she was an angel. Long curly black hair, brown eyes, beautiful lips that curled at the ends into just the hint of a smirk and freckles. I’m not saying she should have been a model; it was more like the girl next door kind of attractiveness. She was definitely the most beautiful woman I had ever been out with.
We went to the art museum, then to a drama theatre. It must have been amusing for her. I don’t know anything about art and even less about drama, so she spent the bulk of the date explaining things to me. I wasn’t sure if I was endearing or annoying, but she seemed to enjoy educating me about culture.
The drama was particularly great. She intently watched everything, her eyes sparkling. I thought about how much she must have wished she was in the company. I watched her face as the show went on. At times she looked quite emotional, making me wonder how it would feel to be great at what you do, only to be forced to give it up. I had an overwhelming desire to put my arm around her. Not in a calculating way, but just to comfort her. Instead, I settled for holding her hand.
After the show, we went out to dinner. It was the kind of restaurant that I normally couldn’t have afforded. Thankfully, bartering had become part of my life, and I found I was quite talented at it. All it took was a promise to do a favor for the manager, and voila…it was suddenly very affordable. Over the course of the dinner, I found that she was even better company than I had first thought.
She was smart, had a razor-sharp wit and a wicked sense of humor. Our conversation went from politics to our favorite game shows seamlessly. When I talked to her about my daughter, she eagerly listened and asked a number of questions. It really had an impact on me because most people just nod and patiently try to humor you despite their lack of real interest.
We finished the date by making out in the front seat of my car like teenagers. She had the softest lips I’ve ever kissed. I tried to keep control of the situation, not wanting her to think it was just physical for me. When we finally said goodnight, I drove home wondering what I could possibly do to top it.
Turns out I didn’t have to be worried. Ebere was just as comfortable going out for pizza and catching a band as she was hobnobbing with the rich and famous. I was relieved because that wasn’t the kind of lifestyle that interested me. I’m a meat-pie kind of guy. A wine and lobster meal is cool once in a while, but trying to pretend you are something you’re not is a bad way to start a relationship.
A couple of weeks and a half-dozen dates later, we went out for dinner and dancing. I had been dreading it since the first date. I was definitely no Chris Brown and was afraid she was going to take one look at me on the dance floor and change her mind about me.
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