I only cried for us the first week. After that, my heart broke, not for us, but for me—for the time I lost, the self-doubt and insecurity it left me with, and the mourning of a person who hasn’t passed away. Before this two-year (too long) relationship, I was comfortable in my singleness, picky, and patient. Finally, I let myself trust in a man instead of my instincts. (If there’s one thing growing up without teaches you, it’s that it’s not a matter of if something goes wrong, but when)

I dipped my toes in and, even though I had never swum before, I dove in with nothing but bright eyes and the heart of a scholar. My first boyfriend promised we’d fly together, but he watched me crash to the ground from great heights with no parachute, leaving me bleeding. I was covered in scars from each stray bullet he delivered—sometimes by his hand, but more often with his silence. I spent 18 months waiting, begging for him to cover me, defend me, to use the fight he had in the boxing ring for us. All that strength he had to oppose me and avoid apologizing or evolving, I only ever wanted him to say, “This one is mine, speak of her accordingly.” But when it finally happened, it left a sour taste in my mouth—a victory in technicality and in name only.

I didn’t need him to be Will Smith¹. I needed to feel chosen not just as an accessory on the long list of things he needed to acquire on his path to success. I suppose this is what they mean when they say you should only date within your class, and it has nothing to do with money. He loved the performance of partnership but not the labor—or the partner, I suppose.

He never loved me enough; otherwise, we would still be together, or at the very least, we could have parted gracefully. Instead, he reverted to the factory settings most men have after deciding a woman isn’t attractive or won’t give them what they want. He treated me like an inconvenience that wouldn’t stop lingering and needed to be removed, rather than a human being.

I never loved myself enough, because “like a dog returning to its vomit, I repeated my foolishness”². As penance for the mistreatment I let myself endure, I pampered myself. I renewed my temple and became a vitamins-and-supplements girl. I reminded myself that I never lacked love when I saw my community, and I grew stronger with every pull-up. I washed my face and retwisted my locs because he wasn’t worth unraveling for. I kept moving because I had no choice—if I let him stop my world, it would cease to be my world. 

After carrying this grief, I’ve finally realized we were doomed from the start. The unequal yoke³ was too unbearable, especially when only one person does all the lifting, and the other reaps the benefits. The differences in personality, character, and future plans have long since stopped being quirky and cute. It was more like walking on sand filled with buried trash, barefoot, with no destination. The next conflict was inevitable, but the good thing about heartbreak is that it is fleeting. Even as I write this, I struggle to recall the rage and hurt I once felt. The person who used to haunt my mind and trespass through my dreams now passes through them like a gentle breeze.

All that to say, I mourn the person I was, who was ready to love so quickly. Like a character in a Grimms’ fairy tale or a Christmas movie, I let myself believe in a man that simply never existed. It’s been over three months now, and the only thing that has carried me through the mood swings and the betrayal is the knowledge that love isn’t enough. If we were a seesaw, the fulcrum never lied in the middle. Our love for each other was never two equal and opposite forces. I learned to love from people who had nothing else to give and did so with everything within them, their hands were hearths, warming anyone in their proximity. His love came from a place of convenience, where love always had a price and a door code. A love confined by borders and regulations, given as an obligation and reserved for people who looked like him. I cared about everything, he only cared about himself.

“The memory hurts but does me no harm,”⁴ Hozier writes. He also says, “Some part of me must have died the final time you called me baby, but some part of me came alive the final time you called me baby.”⁵  What I thought would be the death of me was truly just another beginning and I cannot wait to see what’s next.

In conclusion, I titled this post as a reference to Hamilton⁶ and my favorite Sam Smith song “One Last Song”⁷ because my ex is not muse-worthy. He won’t get any more prose or poetry out of me. So, in this final piece about my first romantic heartbreak, I’m putting him to rest in the time capsule of the internet.

And to my readers, you are worth more than your value to one person –thank you for listening.

Until next time.  ❤️ Lilian Agya

FOOTNOTES

1.  At  the 2022 Oscars, where Will Smith defended his wife, Jada Pinkett Smith, in a very public way. During the ceremony, comedian Chris Rock made a joke about Jada’s shaved head, which she had due to alopecia, a medical condition that causes hair loss. Will Smith walked on stage, slapped Chris Rock, and then, back at his seat, yelled, “Keep my wife’s name out your f***ing mouth!” Smith, Will. “Will Smith Slaps Chris Rock at Oscars 2022.” The Hollywood Reporter, 27 March 2022, http://www.hollywoodreporter.com.
2. The Holy Bible, New Living Translation. Proverbs 26:11. Tyndale House Publishers, 2015.
3. An “unequal yoke” is a term derived from biblical teachings, specifically from 2 Corinthians 6:14, which says, “Do not be yoked together with unbelievers.” In this context, a “yoke” is a wooden bar used to join two animals together to pull a plow or cart. An “unequal yoke” metaphorically refers to a situation where two parties are joined together in a partnership or relationship, but they are mismatched in terms of their values, beliefs, or goals.In a broader sense, it can be applied to various kinds of partnerships, including personal relationships, business ventures, or any collaboration where the partners are not equally committed or aligned. The idea is that such mismatches can create tension and imbalance, leading to difficulties and challenges.The Holy Bible, New International Version. 2 Corinthians 6:14. Zondervan, 2011. Wiersbe, Warren W. Be Complete: How to Know and Do the Will of God. David C. Cook, 2003.
4. Hozier. “Abstract (Psychopomp).” Unreal Unearth, Rubyworks, 2023.
5. Hozier. “First Time” Unreal Unearth, Rubyworks, 2023.
6. Miranda, Lin-Manuel. “One Last Time.” Hamilton: An American Musical, Atlantic Records, 2015.
7. Smith, Sam. “One Last Song.” The Thrill of It All, Capitol Records, 2017.