The Naïveté of A First Year Campus Girl

If you wanted to know the true definition of withdrawn, all you had to do was spend some time with Claire. She kept to herself, or in her own view, minded her own business. It was not like she was cold or anything. She was civil to everyone, but for some reason she found it best to just keep away. After all, this was not high school where people formed cliques and went everywhere together. She was in university, pursuing a rather respectable course-Bachelor of Arts in Human Resource. This course was not an easy one, heck, it gave her hell but every day as she walked to class, she gave herself the consolation that even this would pass. Her future was going to be a great one.

Having just started out in the university, she felt a sudden thrill. Away from overprotective parents-she could not possibly see herself going through four years of college under the prying eyes of her parents, particularly her mother’s. She knew all they did was in good stride, but it still did not cover the fact that they kept track of all her whereabouts and particularly who she was with. Which is why she jumped at the idea of having her own place, far away from her parents and close enough to her school.

Her course instructors all had a mind to give group assignments instead of individual work, which meant that Claire had to mingle and get to know people, just to get the work done and a good grade for her units. The day their group met for the first time is when she got to see him. A tall young man; about 6ft. He was chocolate brown in complexion, had big brown eyes, the kind that make feet turn into jello and stomachs do flip flops. He was muscular, but not the bulky stretch-muscles-till-you-see-the-veins type. Just enough to be well- built. He kept his hair short and neat, which was a relief for Claire because she was tired of seeing guys with unkempt hair; from dreadlocks to ‘fros, all in the name of being fashion. He was casually dressed but at least his jeans did not hug his ass too tight, and he also did not keep pulling them up as they tried to obey the rules of gravity. He was not tattooed or pierced either, Claire noted. She made a mental note to talk to him after their discussion was over.

Claire was 5ft. 6in. She was dark skinned. They say the blacker the berry, the sweeter the juice. Well, only the beholder can attest to the truth of that theory. She was slender, which is different from skinny. It was her gift from nature. She could eat however much she wanted but she would not gain even an ounce. Her hair was shoulder-length. She had it relaxed and it was jet-black. She had tried highlights once; it did not go well, so she chose to stick to her black hair. Most of the time, she held her hair in a pony tail, but this time she had let her hair down, so to speak. She wore spectacles, which gave her a more serious look. She could not be seen without her glasses, rather, she could not see without them. She did not follow the latest fad in terms of dressing, but she still looked trendy in whatever she chose to wear. She knew how to accessorise: handbags, jewellery, shoes-she could give you a run for your money.

For some reason, Claire did not concentrate on the discussion. She was looking into Mr. Dreamy’s eyes and there was something about his lips that just made her wish she could just get a taste, even if for a second. She was literally drooling as she stared at the guy; you would have thought he was a piece of honey glazed chicken.

The discussion ended and just when she was gathering up courage to talk to him, she heard a deep yet sweet voice say a soft “Hi” to her. Her heart almost skipped a beat when she realised it was Mr. Handsome. She had almost forgotten what the response to that greeting was. When she did find her voice, she said a very shaky “Hey,” and held out her hand to meet his. She had to remind herself to smile. She had totally lost composure, but she was not going to show him that. He introduced himself as Lewis Jackson. “No African name?” she thought to herself. “I am Claire Mutsa. It is nice to meet you.”

“That is a pretty name,” said Lewis. Claire was gushing too much to notice the cliché of that remark, because otherwise she would have rolled her eyes. The conversation they had after the brief introduction did not last too long. He had his passe waiting for him, so he left with a promise to talk to her the following day.

Lewis did talk to her the following day and the day after, and the day after that and soon they were inseparable. It was official. They were a couple. Each time she saw the all too familiar smile, Claire wondered how it was the universe had decided that she would be dating the most handsome man she had ever set eyes on south of the Sahara north of the Limpopo. Of all the girls around campus, he chose her. She was living in a dream, one that seemed to have a fairy tale ending.

They went to a fast food joint for their first date. He was kind enough to foot the bill. She had a great time. Not that she had previously had other dates to compare this one with, but she really did like his company. He was intelligent, and he did not bore her with sports. He knew current affairs and he had a sense of humour. He got ten out of ten in Claire’s check list.

On the second date, he offered to take her to see a play. Claire loved the arts, and what better way to showcase that love than watch a play? It was a breezy evening. Claire was dressed to the nines. She ordinarily did not wear make-up but today she had the whole shindig. She was to meet Lewis at the theatre. She got there at 5.30pm- half an hour before the play was to start. She thought she would sit outside as she waited for him to arrive, but to her surprise, Lewis had already arrived. He held a red rose in his hand. Immediately, Claire felt butterflies in her stomach. “This is so sweet,” she thought, and those are the same words she uttered when she hugged him after she was given the rose.

“So shall we?” asked Lewis as he pointed in the direction of the theatre. “Sure,” said Claire with a smile. There was always a feeling of happiness when she talked to Lewis. They had not gone out for a long time, but she felt as though they were soul mates, but she could not tell him that. He would be freaked out! They watched the play. It was a romance- comedy. Lewis, being the gentleman he is, walked Claire to the bus stop. They walked hand in hand as they recalled the funny scenes in the play. At her stop, Lewis hugged her, kissed her on the cheek and bid her a good night. The bus ride home was just a blur. Claire was reeling. She could not stop smiling to herself. The song by Jaguar- Kipepeo rang true that night.

Nikiwa nawe sitembei

Nakuwa tu kipepeo

Napepea napepea

Ju ya penzi unayonipa

They met for a third date. Lewis invited Claire over to his house for lunch. He was going to cook for her. Claire agreed, she had never had a man cook for her, so what did she have to lose? It was a bright, warm Saturday afternoon when Claire went to put Lewis’ culinary skills to the test. She knocked on the door and there stood a good looking Lewis. He was clad in a simple pair of jeans and a shirt, but he still looked so good. Claire was in a mini daze when she saw him, but she snapped out of it immediately she felt those strong arms around her and she got a whiff of his cologne. She was in heaven. His house was neat. Too neat even. She loved it! For a student, that house was well furnished. Did she just see a home theatre? Wow! He was from a well- to-do family. She took a deep breath just to make sure she was not dreaming. Lunch was served a few minutes after Claire had done a brief ‘reconnaissance’ of the place. It was healthy food- rice, beef stew and stir-fried vegetables. 

This surprised Claire because she expected him to have done a takeout and then pretend how he had been slaving under the stove. He waited with bated breath as she took her first bite. She chewed slowly, savouring every bit of flavour. For a rich boy, this guy could cook! The smile on her face told it all. Lewis knew that she enjoyed the meal. The way her plate was ‘cleaned’ just complemented the “Food was nice story.”

They began talking. Then when the topic became intense Lewis leaned in to kiss her. Claire’s lips met with his. Claire felt her eyes close as she wrapped her arms around him. In a matter of seconds they were now lying on the bed and Lewis broke the embrace to grab something. He leaned into his drawer and out came pack of condoms. Claire felt a lump build up in her throat. She had not anticipated this. Her heart beat fast, and even as Lewis continued to kiss her she was uneasy. She was a virgin. She had not planned to be intimate with any one until her wedding day, and now all those plans would go down the drain. Just as Lewis was about to unbutton her blouse, Claire found a voice and told him that she was not ready. He stopped immediately. Claire could tell he was not amused but he said that he understood.  

He walked her to the bus stop. He bid her good bye and hugged her. From that hug, Claire confirmed that Lewis did not appreciate being rejected. He used to hug and hold her tight to him, but now he clenched his fists when he hugged her. “Maybe I am overreacting,” she thought to herself. Her bus ride home was filled with thoughts on what would unfold thereafter. None of the books Claire had read on relationships could prepare her for what took place next. She was always the one who called or texted. She was getting the silent treatment. What Claire had forgotten was the 3 Dates Rule. She had been on three dates with Lewis, and it was definite, or rather, it was expected that they would sleep together on the third date.

Claire saw Lewis in school every day and he acted as though everything was alright, and she could feel that something was clearly very wrong. One morning, a month into the avoidance, Claire got a text message from Lewis saying that he could no longer go out with her. There was an explanation why but it just meandered around the point missing the bull’s eye. Claire read that text over and over. She felt tears fill her eyes, but she did not let them drop. She was not going to cry over a man. Not now not ever. 

Claire went about her day trying not to let that text message dampen her day, but it was hard. She saw him in the library and he acted as though he had done nothing wrong. I mean, people are dumped on text every day, right? As she lay in bed that night, Claire cried her heart out. She was in pain, but somehow felt relieved that she had saved herself the heartache of being dumped after losing her most priced possession to someone who did not really care. Claire cheered up after that revelation occurred to her and being the prayerful being she was, she felt a peace and calm surround her, and with that she fell asleep awaking the following day feeling refreshed.

Time, they say, is a healer. And soon, Claire would get back to her normal, jovial self.