My mother’s death led me to true love

During Pride Month, I wanted to speak to queer people who found comfort, community, and enriching relationships when I discovered Jason*.

He tells how he found love on a trip to his mother’s funeral in the village and how distance dashed the hopes of his budding love story.

As Adeyinka tells

It’s hard to find love when you’re vulnerable, broken, and grieving. During these times, people want to take advantage of you. But that wasn’t the case with my partner.

I met my Femi* during one of the darkest periods of my life. I had had several depressive episodes, but this one felt different; it was triggered by grief. I had just lost my mother and was travelling from Lagos to our village to prepare for the funeral.

My mother’s funeral was hard for me. It took me a while to process her death and get over my grief.

The original plan was to attend the funeral, which was to last a few days, and then return to base, but due to the volume of preparations, I ended up spending about three weeks in the village.

On one of those days in the village, I needed an escape from the grief that had overwhelmed me and left me numb to what was happening around me. I was on social media, mindlessly scrolling away my grief, and I ended up on a dating app. The idea of ​​interacting with a stranger seemed like a good distraction. A few minutes after I logged in, an account saw my profile and sent me a text, and I responded.

Like most interactions I had on the platform, the chat dragged on. This was not surprising, as many people came to the platform for different reasons. They came looking for sex, companionship, relationships, or the thrill of meeting new people. I was there to escape my grief, so part of me was largely indifferent.

Shortly after we started talking, he brought up a topic that caught my interest and we hit it off. We talked about various things until the conversation petered out.

After that first encounter, I retreated back into my shell; I was still deeply grieving and had no desire to make new friends. Although it was refreshing to have random, interesting conversations with a stranger, that was all I had the energy for.

But in a way, that first encounter with him also stuck in my mind. Since my mother’s death, I hadn’t felt so free and carefree to live my life. First of all, he no longer reminded me of what I was going through, unlike the relatives around me. Soon, I found myself going online to write to him more often. We had also shifted the conversation away from the platform since we had exchanged phone numbers. Our interactions were a rich mix of common interests and life in general.

We texted for hours, and soon I was hooked. I was deeply intrigued by this person who had the range of conversations that pulled me out of my sadness. It wasn’t that I hadn’t had other people around me who had tried to talk me out of my sadness, but they just didn’t hit the mark like he did.

A few weeks after we met, I started getting a weird feeling about him. It felt like he was messing with me, and I didn’t know why. The truth is, I was inconsistent at some point. Grief is weird. There were days when I came alive, and days when I didn’t care about anything, not even the charm of this person who had successfully snatched me from the clutches of grief on many occasions.

But was that why he gave me the cold shoulder? Was it because we weren’t clear about what we were doing? A friendship, a relationship, or just two awesome guys? It wasn’t clear. Whatever it was, his attitude wasn’t what I needed, so I also took a step back and pulled away. I stopped texting as often and didn’t bother reaching out.

I expected him to give me the same energy back and keep his distance. But instead of withdrawing, he became more present. He reached out his hand as often as possible.

We soon decided to meet in person.

In the early stages of our relationship, we had both mentioned that we enjoyed taking long walks, so we decided to go for a walk on our first date. We both agreed that this would give us the opportunity to get to know each other even better, without the pressure of sexual expectations.

Unfortunately, I got held up that day and couldn’t make the agreed time. I didn’t show up until 8pm and although I expected him to be mad, he kept his cool. At that point, it was pointless to go for a walk, so we decided to hang out at his house since I was already in the area. When I arrived, he was standing outside to receive me and even offered to pay my taxi fare.

When we got to his room, I realized he didn’t have any chairs, so we had to stay on the bed – which wasn’t the ideal situation considering we wanted to avoid sexual tension.

We talked all night, just like we always did when texting, and the conversation was just as good. While all of this was happening, I expected him to make out. Yes, we weren’t going to make out on our first date, but I was already at his house and in his bed. I figured we might as well get down to business.

Surprisingly, he didn’t make any sexual advances towards me. He kept it casual and even made me think he wasn’t attracted to me. Other people I’d met in the past tried to hit on me and only stopped when I refused. With him, we carried on as usual until I left his house. This whole experience made me see the potential of what lay dormant inside us in a different light. It felt like we were laying the foundation for a real and sincere relationship.

After the first visit, I visited him three times and spent the night with him once. We still didn’t become intimate; what I needed most at that point in my life was intellectual conversation, laughter, and company. He listened as I rambled on and on about my mother and always knew the right words to say when I was on the verge of a breakdown.

I remember crying one night as I was remembering my mom, and he just pulled me close and lulled me into a peaceful calm.

I’ve met a fair number of queer men, and for most of them, sex is always an option. Deep connections or real friendships are just accessories that aren’t guaranteed. It was refreshing to find someone different. He offered me nothing but comfort as I tried to reclaim the broken pieces of myself from the grip of loss.

About five weeks later, it was finally time to return to Lagos. I visited him to say goodbye and I still remember his eyes filling with tears as he murmured, “I love you.”

Honestly, I felt the same about him. When I left the village, I was just as heartbroken as the day I arrived to bury my mother. I had found love, but I knew I couldn’t keep it because we were almost a thousand miles apart.

We both value the physical quality of the time we spend together, so a long-distance relationship was out of the question. We still write to each other like lovers, although our relationship is still undefined.

Also read: Why dating queer women is not for the faint of heart