> "If you ask me about him, I'll say he's a jerk. A charming and interesting jerk. Do tell me, how can one be so honest and despise lying, yet still manage to be the best liar I've ever come across? He's just a psycho without emotions—other than pride. That's all I can tell you about him."
That was what Joanna thought of me.
And for real, I was like that.
I didn't try to hide it either.
I was alone, and I liked it that way. Solitude gave me control. People? They were unpredictable, exhausting, and often too eager to expose your vulnerabilities for the fun of it. So I learned to pretend. I became good at it—morphing into whatever the moment required, slipping in and out of roles like a seasoned actor with no audience.
It was a quiet, peaceful evening in the suburbs of Tema. The air was still, the sky was dull, and I was simply... bored.
That kind of boredom that whispers, "Go entertain yourself," even if it means diving into the noise you usually avoid.
So I did what most people do in moments like that:
I picked up my phone, scrolled through old messages, and randomly started throwing new ones into various DMs. A few replied. Most didn't. And among the few that did… she was one of them.
I still remember the date: the 10th of January.
Just about half a month after I dumped my so-called best friend.
I wasn't searching for love. I wasn't even looking for connection.
I was just looking for a distraction—a new flame to replace the dull ache that loneliness left behind.
Back then, trust was a luxury I couldn't afford. Everyone online felt like an illusion, a mask. But her? She reeked of naivety and innocence. It fit the bill for the amusement I was craving.
When I opened her inbox, I realized something strange.
We had already talked before.
There were messages there—some short, some random—but no memory of ever talking to her came to mind.
I shoved that thought aside and carried on. Curiosity may have killed the cat, but it never stopped me.
Our First Chat
I took the lead, naturally. She didn't ask anything back. She just answered like a quiet student who didn't want to speak unless spoken to.
---
Me: hi there, good evening
Her: good evening
Me: how are you doing?
Her: I'm fine and you?
Me: cool,Where are you from?
Her: I'm from ....
Me: What do you do?
Her: teaching
Me: How old are you?
Her: 19.
Me: You in a relationship?
Her: yes ...buh complicated
Me: oh really? Do you mind telling?
Her: not really, maybe some other time.
Me: Ok, I'm quite clingy when something interests me so I might be a bug for a while, I hope you don't mind
Her: It's fine, where are you from?
Me: Nigerian in Tema...
---
That was the tone of our first encounter.
Short answers. No questions back. No effort to keep the conversation going. And yet… I stayed.
I should've found it annoying.
But there was something about that silence. Something oddly honest about it. She wasn't trying to impress me. She didn't care if I ghosted or stayed.
She just existed. And somehow, that was enough to make me keep typing.
That was the first real spark.
Not fireworks. Not butterflies.
Just curiosity.
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> "We became friends on Facebook, our first conversation was awkward, just hi and stuffs. He's always sounding cold, arrogant, question a lot and I really don't like that about him."
This is what she said about me, what she thought about me.
Imagine the audacity.
I was just trying to get to know her. I asked the usual questions, the ones any sane person would ask when trying to connect. And there she was—being grumpy, passive, and clearly judging me from message one. She made no effort, and I was supposed to somehow read between the lines and still entertain her.
But that's the thing about how we started.
We didn't fall into friendship like a perfect match. We used each other.
I needed entertainment.
She needed comfort.
She didn't want to be alone.
And I didn't want to be bored.
What we had at first wasn't healthy, or even wholesome.
It was a convenience. A trauma-bonded, emotionally chaotic, unspoken agreement.
A friendship born out of damage control.
Two people, both a little broken, both a little selfish—finding a weird sense of peace in each other's mess.
That was the beginning.
Not perfect. Not sweet.
But real.
And for some reason, we stayed.
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