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How I Killed My Girlfriend

Let me tell you a story. It won’t be long, I promise.

I met her—my girlfriend—the day she came for evangelism in my lodge. It was a very hot afternoon, and I’d just had a marathon of lectures. It was exam period, so all the lecturers were in a haste to round up their classes. I wonder why they wouldn’t come earlier in the semester; they would always wait till the eleventh hour to start teaching what they should have done in the beginning, making the end of the semester a time of stress and frustration. No wonder people rarely did well in exams.

Anyway, as I was saying… I came back from the school, took my bath, and without bothering to eat, jumped into bed and slept off. I wanted to sleep for at least four hours before I would wake up to read. It was my final year and we were preparing for our our final exams. So I needed all the strength I could get.

I’m sure that it wasn’t up to thirty minutes into my sleep when I heard a knock on the door. I was so annoyed that I shouted, “Who the hell is that!”

I didn’t hear any reply, and I was about to go back to sleep when the knock came again, this time, a bit louder. I stood up, I had only my boxers on and was bare-chested, but I didn’t make an effort to put on anything as I opened the door.

And met the woman of my dreams. Don’t mind the way I said it; I didn’t know she would be the best thing to have happened to me when I saw her.

I was arrested by her stunning beauty, she had everything—both Barça and Chelsea were ample and in the equal proportions. I would have loved to describe her the more, but I promised you that this story would be short.

I kept on staring at her with all the holes in my body open and she had to snap her fingers in my face to get my attention. She then proceeded to tell me her mission—to preach to me about the kingdom of God. Believe me, I wasn’t a religious person, but I still believed in God. But I reasoned that if she wanted me to come to her church, that I would. Just to see her again.

Then I did what I’d never done for anyone that came to preach to me. I invited her to come inside my room. She agreed, not minding my half-naked state. We talked extensively for two hours, on a variety of things. By the time she was about to leave, I knew that I was in love with a beautiful church girl.

Over the next four years, we grew very close, even after my graduation. Then we started dating. She was a firm believer in no sex before marriage and even though I didn’t really believe that, I agreed to it.

Then two weeks ago I proposed to her and she agreed. We planned to meet her parents first, then we would go see mine. But last night I got the most shocking news, a news I still hope to be a joke. She was dead, she took an overdose of a drug I don’t know the name and slipped into oblivion.


She’d written in her suicide note that she had lied to me about a lot of things. First of all, she wasn’t a virgin as she claimed; she’d been a ‘runs’ girl, who had had several abortions, with the last damaging her womb. That was when she gave her life to Christ. She’d said that she couldn’t continue to lie to someone she loved so much, so she had to let me go.

She’d also said that she couldn’t bear to lose me and as such she left before it happened.

But do you know why this hurts so much? Because all her reasons do not matter to me. She doesn’t have a womb, it doesn’t matter, we could have adopted children. My love for her and being with her were all that mattered.

I still can’t shake off the feeling that I was the cause of her death. Surely if I didn’t propose to her, she would have been alive today, smiling and making my world beautiful.

You think so too, right?

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