Diary of a emiotionally distant nerd with a crappy and mostly depressing love life.
6 min read
Young Love, Wrong Love

a sequel to "STILL ADDICTED"

Have you ever fallen in love even though the diamond on your ring-finger shows that you're not supposed to? Perhaps it's not love, it's probably just a yearning to be loved again, so you pretend to love just to feel loved, to feel human and to fill up your love cave with something young, something different and something bold.

And in that pretense, in your innocent attempt to just have fun while your husband is away, it transcends into something real, a love better than what you've always known, Young love; but unluckily you're too old for it. That's my story, and the worst part is, I still can't tell when the transcendence began.

Maybe it began in class when I asked a question on evolutionary biology and no student could make an attempt so I pointed at random and it was one Osagie my finger fell on. He stood up, but had no answer. I had chosen him haphazardly but somehow it felt perfect. He fizzled and fumbled, trying to remember an answer he never knew while I stood right there, offering no help whatsoever, enjoying the uncommon sight of a knight in distress and checking him out from his moist plummy lips to the broadness of his shoulders down to the boyish charm of his tight-fitted trousers. At a point I no longer wanted him to remember the answer, I just wanted him in front of me without clothes on so I could teach him a different kind of biology; evolutionary biology is boring, reproductive biology is not. And then I'll let him teach me what other girls have taught him, one course per night, every night, until my husband returns from his trip.

These thoughts made my head to be turnioniown but I maintained the icy demeanor of a disgusted teacher and replied him with a sharp "Mr. Man, See me in my office. I'm not even sure if I've seen you in my class before, you need to explain yourself" And the class went on.

Or Perhaps it began when he came to my office, the first time, and the second and the third and fourth times. We were getting fond of each other. He had a hold on me and he didn't even know it. He followed me to my office after every class, helping out with the projector and my laptop that was filled with Instagram and Facebook searches of his name as seen on the register. On our way to my office, he usually says brief jokes that make me smile. Honestly, I didn't smile because his jokes were funny, I smiled because I was horny, because when he makes me smile I feel my wrinkles smoothening, like I'm a teenager again, even if it's only for a minute or less. The fifth time, we got talking about his hobbies and I Said "Maybe one day you'll teach me"
"What would you like to learn, Swimming or baseball?" he asked. I loved how he spoke to me like the age gap between us was invisible.
"Biology and then swimming" I replied, switching from lecturer voice to bedroom voice.
"But you're the professor here"
"There are some lessons I can't teach myself you know" I said, staring seductively into his eyes. He felt uneasy. 
"Those lessons only a man must teach" I continued, discarding what's left of my pride and integrity into the bin as I unbuttoned my blouse as slowly as I could; one button per minute.

He didn't need anyone to tell him what was going on. Even a blind man would have seen it coming. He arched his eyebrows and left his mouth ajar unbeknownst to him and it made me horny all the more. I was standing at the door while he was at the table where he dropped the projector and laptop. Just as I've seen in movies, I locked the door behind me and waited to see if he would reject me but he didn't. He still hadn't said anything, but he didn't need to, Silence is consent so I continued. I came closer, I could see the goosebumps bulging out his skin, I also saw a bigger bulge from within his tight-fit trousers, bigger than Jupiter's magic stick and it made me glad because I am done giving birth so I don't mind changing the position of my womb.

Maybe it started at the pool, He was teaching me to swim but I was learning how to be young again, how to let go, confident that a man's arms are wide open to save me before I drown, how to love like I've never been hurt. Jupiter and I have been married for so long he's now more like a sibling than a lover. Osagie, on the other hand, enjoyed every bit of me, the thought of not having to spend or impress his lady was such a relief for him and he started getting attached but I didn't want that, I just wanted to play around a little before age takes away all my beauty and glamour.

If it didn't begin earlier then I'm sure it began at the end, when what seemed like a blossoming flower was weeded by my husband's return and Osagie's graduation from school. I haven't had a genuine moan since Osagie left. What we had was young but it was wrong and somehow I don't feel guilty, that's how I know that it must have been love. Now I see my husband as a stranger, a brother, and on most nights, an inexperienced lover.

Why do the wrong things feel so right? And why does love mostly reveal itself at awkward times with awkward people? I don't know how much longer I can hold on to this secret, or even this marriage. I know I said Jupiter is my strength but I just realized that Osagie - my 21 year old ex-final year student - might be my weakness after all. If I had known this earlier, I would have accepted his love months ago but sometimes beginnings hide themselves in ends and there's nothing we can do about it. Or not.

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