The Perfect Love
By: The Kalahari Review
Tags: Nigeria, African Literature, Fiction, Love, Solomon Adenuga

The Perfect Love

Photo by Etienne Steenkamp on Unsplash

She was perfect when you met her.

Her voice was soft, sweet and she infused every conversation with the kind of intelligence and kindness associated with the gods. Hours passed like minutes in her presence and the only thing that was better than getting lost in her words was listening to her laughter, it made your ears dance.

Her hands felt like Goldilocks third choices, the perfect fit. Warm and comfortable in a way that made your fingers want to snuggle with hers in the perfect cuddle forever.

She smelled like home, not like the grass scented breeze in your parent’s house in the village or the artificial vanilla and honey candles in your studio apartment in the city. Her scent was calming and familiar in a way that reached out to you, drew you in and made you feel like everything was okay and anything that wasn’t, could be.

And when your bodies collided on battlefields of satin sheets, soft pillows and other surfaces, sparks similar to those that created the universe, exploded in beautiful black magic till you were both left suspended in a state of euphoria. She was perfect for you.

But doesn’t perfect mean too good?

Not too good to be true, she was as real as all the feelings you had for her — but too good to be for only you.

She was honest, she felt everything you did, but you were not the only one she felt it with. The gods, all knowing and all powerful in their ways had blessed her with love in it’s purest form — without the curse of monogamy.

She wanted you to decide if this was something you wanted. There wouldn’t be shifts in her personality, but there would be shifts in her schedule. She wouldn’t have off days but she would have days she was off with another. Whenever she was with you, your relationship would be as perfect as it could be. Exclusive of exclusivity, you would have the perfect relationship.

You had to choose. Like your mother and her mother before her, when they discovered that the men in their lives already had other women in their lives. You had to ask yourself the same question your mother did before accepting to be your fathers second wife.

“Can a partner still be amazing if you are not the only person they are committed to?”

When you were with her, you felt twice as alive as you had ever been and when she was out of reach, you felt like half the person you were before you met her. You figured that, if you got to spend only three days with her each week, and allowed yourself feel horrible the other four days, it would still be a better week than a week by yourself.

Mathematically, life with her…

[Days with her (3(days) x 2 (emotional super powers)) + Days without her(4(days) x 0.5 (emotional super powers))] = 8

was better than a life without her…

[{7 (days) x 1 (emotional super power)}] = 7.

So you chose her, chose to love her on days you were with her and days you weren’t. Chose to dedicate yourself to becoming the version of yourself being with her inspired you to want to be. Chose to build your little world with her day by day. Chose the certainties of the present over the uncertainties of the future. You chose happiness…or did you?