The Story of My First Love: A Series

                                            

 “First love is only a little foolishness and a lot of curiosity.” – George Bernard Shaw

We were a story worth telling, just not one meant to last.

It was our first “date.” I was in grey sweatpants and a matching hoodie, my hair covered. The saloonist hadn’t quite delivered the style I wanted, one fit to impress this not-so-short, wide-eyed, slightly plump, and rather handsome guy with his coarse hair. But here I was, regardless.

Seated near the flower hedges that lined the park opposite Thika Road Mall, I kept glancing toward Gate A.

Where is this guy? How dare he be late? I called one more time, no answer. Annoyed, I sent a text threatening to leave. Of course, I wouldn’t. I wanted to meet the man I had fallen for in just a week! First dates are a mix of excitement and nerves, right? The waiting, the overthinking, the way time feels fast and slow at the same time. Do you remember yours?

He had mentioned something about making chapatis for Christmas and waiting for the cake-cutting before he could leave. Boy, get your priorities straight, you don’t keep a potential future wife waiting for that long.

Yes, we met on Christmas. I had feigned sickness to skip church, stayed home, then sneaked out to see him. Who cared about festivities when I could finally meet the guy I had spent years imagining in all my short-lived-happily-ever-after fantasies? This was my Juan Miguel from the 8 p.m. soap operas on Citizen TV.

Eventually, he arrived, more than 40 minutes late. I spotted him in the long queue of people trying to get into TRM to celebrate Christmas. A light hug, one that lingered on me for the next week, and off we went, chatting about the most nonsensical things.

But before we get ahead of ourselves, let’s take a little trip down memory lane—back to where it all began.

So, how did we meet?

In 2020, the world was at the mercy of the coronavirus. Lockdowns, curfews, no school, and Mutahi Kagwe gracing our screens daily announced infection numbers until we stopped keeping track.

Since school was out, my class teacher reached out, inviting me to join virtual lessons. That invitation became my golden ticket, and I finally had a solid excuse to get my first smartphone. I convinced my mum that I was falling behind and desperately needed a phone to keep up. She bought me a tiny Tecno, specifics forgotten. This phone that would be the bridge that connected our worlds.

The online sessions included students from different schools, and that’s where I met R...