From Sugar to Alomo Bitters

Yesterday, I called her Sucre. French for Sugar. Today... I think the French dictionary owes me a refund. Because somehow, in the space of one WhatsApp conversation, my relationship status moved from Sweetened Condensed Milk to Alomo Bitters. She sent the message every Nigerian man fears. "I need to tell you something." There are messages that deserve an ambulance before you even open them. "I need to tell you something." "We need to talk." "Can you call me?" Three sentences capable of increasing blood pressure faster than fuel prices. Naturally, I replied like a confident man. "You can tell me anything, babe." Confidence is beautiful... until reality clocks in. She asked, "Are you sure?" Ladies don't ask, "Are you sure?" because they're looking for reassurance. They're checking if your emotional insurance is active. Then came it. "I love you... but I don't think I'm ready for a relationship." That "but" deserves its own national holiday. Everything before but is usually a memorial service. "I love you..." Wonderful. "...but..." May the Lord strengthen us. She explained she wasn't healed. Two years after her last relationship. That's when I realized heartbreak has different subscription plans. Some people recover before the next season of their favourite series. Others are still buffering years later. Then she said something that landed differently. *"I don't believe in love anymore."* And suddenly, this wasn't rejection. It was grief wearing new clothes. Sometimes people don't reject you because you're wrong. They reject the possibility of being hurt again. There is a difference. I wanted to convince her. Tell stories. Quote scripture. Become a motivational speaker with free emotional counselling. Instead... I listened. Because not every closed door needs to be kicked open. Some doors are simply asking for time. Then came the famous Nigerian compromise. "Let's maintain friendship first." Ah... The waiting room. Where hope sits beside confusion. Where your heart is asking, "Are we progressing..." while your brain whispers, "Brother, read the room." I almost argued. Instead, I said, "Your feelings are important." Because they are. Love isn't proven by how loudly you hold someone. Sometimes it's proven by how gently you let them breathe. She asked, "Hope we're still friends?" I replied, "Never enemies." Because here's what I learnt. Not every person who walks into your life is assigned to become your partner. Some arrive to teach you patience. Some remind you that everyone is fighting battles they don't post online. Some simply need a safe place where they won't be pressured to become who they are not. And maybe... Just maybe... Real maturity isn't turning Sugar into Alomo Bitters because someone couldn't love you the way you hoped. It's accepting that people owe you honesty... not romance. So yes... Yesterday she was Sucre. Today she feels like Alomo Bitters. But perhaps tomorrow... she'll simply be another reminder that love, like healing, cannot be rushed. And if someone tells you, "I'm not ready. Believe them. Don't audition for the role of emotional physiotherapist. Not every broken heart is asking to be fixed. Some are simply asking to be understood. <h3>This Isnt My TwoCents?</h3> Sometimes, the bravest "I love you" isn't the one that begins a relationship. It's the one mature enough to respect an honest "I'm not ready." ---Okay! Dont Engage This.

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