How to mourn funmi

In the first days after Funmi ended things, you simply refused to believe that it was nothing more than another fight. As the days went by, you slowly realized that what happened was more than a mere lover’s spat.

Before breaking up, Funmi had sent you a series of angry texts, and tearful voice notes in what you felt was an inflated reaction to you missing a few dates and exchanging messages with the new corper in your office.

You knew she was angrier than you had ever gotten her. Still, to you, that wasn't a problem; she just needed space to calm down. Yet, for some reason, you couldn't bring yourself to give her that. So instead, you sent her funny tweets and videos off YouTube despite her pointed lack of response in any form.

Her silence notwithstanding, you drew up a concrete plan to win her back... As Funmi had admitted in her last tearful voice note to still having feelings for you, you hoped to take advantage of that. So, through the next week and a half, you managed to finally convince her over a series of difficult phone calls to meet you one last time to talk things out.

When you met Funmi, you noticed that she kept her distance, flinching and taking her hands off the table when you reached for them. She didn’t want a drink or a meal, only intending to sit long enough to tell you she came to squash any possibility of a second chance and some other things about you, you simply wouldn’t hear.

“This bitch”, you said out loud when she told you in a cold clipped tone that she was absolutely done with you and the relationship. The obscenities that slipped from your lips got louder. People in the restaurant were staring, but you didn't care. Funmi just sat and stared at you. The look of disgust mixed with pity in her eyes sent you over the edge, and you stormed out.

Over the next few hours, as you stumbled in the red mist that was your anger, you could barely keep track of everything you said, texted or screamed. Funmi was such a bitch, and you felt it was your responsibility to let her and everyone in on that fact. So you did, putting out a couple of posts and tweets that required very little context to understand the sub-textual message they bore. Then, the comments and questions started.

A couple of your mutual friends asked what the matter was, you replied by blocking them all, even your older brother, who messaged you to calm down. You insulted and blocked everyone who tried to calm you down online that night. In your righteous anger, you purged your social media of Funmi and any mutual followers that were friendly with her before falling into a restless sleep that night.

The next morning, you found that the harvest from the vineyard of your rage the previous night was bountiful. Many contacts and friends had blocked you. The few who hadn't, took their sweet time following you back (even your older brother), after you slunk into their message inbox to apologize with your tail firmly between your legs.

Later that day, after deleting most of your tweets from the previous night, you found out that Funmi had blocked your number and all your social accounts. You tried to get through to her via email and texts sent from your cousin’s number. You pitched every change she had suggested to you over the course of your two-year relationship. You vowed to work out more, manage your temper, seek therapy if possible and even stop speaking to any women Funmi didn’t permit you to. Yet, no reply.

The next few weeks were the hardest. In the wake of alienating your friends and contacts during the breakup, you ended up seeking comfort in isolation and bottles of cheap liquor. The guilt of your lunacy ravaged your mind and even your body. You found yourself waking up every other day with a stabbing pain in your chest and head. You particularly couldn’t get past flashbacks of your internet meltdown, certain that the internet would never forget; because the internet never forgot.

In your isolation, you found Funmi in the little things you once shared. She was in the cutlery and controllers. Funmi was in the asun, and the funny way the mallam who ran the kiosk said ‘pepper’ that she always found so amusing. You still smelled her when you used the brand of detergent she introduced you to. Unconsciously and consciously, you searched for Funmi in everything.

The first few months after the breakup was even harder, but you got through them. The internet did forget things, rather quickly if you were honest. Concluding that you weren't right for Funmi hurt like a broken bone, even though you knew you hurt her ten times more.

Somehow, life moved on and somewhat improved in the aftermath of your breakup. You still cared about Funmi deeply, and although you denied it, you still looked for echoes of the girl who still hadn't unblocked you. You still ate the things she introduced you to. You actually began working out. You even found a new girlfriend, Dammy; a younger, prettier and arguably more naive version of her. You told yourself that Dammy was nothing like her. It was just a coincidence that they had the same smile and were from the same tribe. You didn’t mind. Dammy wasn’t Funmi, and everything was perfect. Absolutely perfect, even though you were still unable to say Funmi’s name during therapy sessions. Even though her name was always just at the tip of your tongue before you fell asleep every night.

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