We’d been texting with Norman daily for three months when we finally went for a lunch date. I spent the two days leading up to the date choosing the perfect outfit. “Is this too much?” “Does this say, ‘I want you’?” “Does this make me look like I’m trying too hard to impress him?” “I think this one makes me look closed off,” I said as I put away the fifth outfit option.

When you chat with someone daily for three months, you learn a lot about them. You form a special bond. Or at least you think that’s what is happening.

The date went smoothly. It was like spending time with an old friend. We didn’t even realise how slow the service was as we were deep in conversation. When the food was eventually served, he took a bite of his and then fed me some.

The lunch date turned into dinner, and even that didn’t feel like enough time together, so we got a few snacks and drinks and went to his place. A two-hour movie took almost double the time because we had to pause it a few times as we made comments.

The following morning, we struggled to get out of bed until the hunger strike. I was brushing my teeth when Norman grabbed my waist from behind and whispered, “I think I found my rib,” as he smiled at our mirror image. I froze momentarily, but butterflies flooded my belly. “He thinks I’m the one,” was what I heard.

There was an extra layer of excitement between us for the following few weeks, then I sensed a drift. He started taking longer to respond to my texts, and my calls went unanswered a couple of times. He would eventually get back to me, but I began feeling like I was doing too much.

I planned dates to bridge the distance. His schedule was tight, and my date suggestions were often met with rain checks. I started pulling back. I did activities on my own or with other people, and when Norman would find out about it, he would act like I was leaving him out.

During this period, he moved houses and undertook a kitchen overhaul. He needed a ‘female touch’ because he felt women were better at some things. His move became a team project. We went house hunting, evaluating the designs, locations, and prices of various houses. If you’ve been house hunting in Nairobi, you know how hectic the exercise can be. The kitchens often feel like an afterthought in the design. Almost as if the developers remember that people need kitchens later, they carve out a space from the kitchen, then add a counter and throw in words like ‘open plan’ to justify the monstrosity of the outcome.

After a few weekends of driving around, consulting friends’ recommendations, conducting online searches, and making calls to agents, Norman found the perfect house. Then we figured out each room’s interior décor from the curtains, bedding and art. The kitchen was the hardest as we reviewed electronics from different brands while making sure the aesthetics and practicality worked for the theme we’d chosen.

“You’ll make a good wife,” said Norman when it all came together.

Then the drift happened again shortly after. It was a cycle of intense affection and attention, followed by distance. The disconnect was making me anxious, so I voiced my frustration.

“You know there’s no one I talk to as much as I do with you,” Norman reassured me.

He also explained that that was how he operated, and his family and friends were aware of it. I wasn’t his official girlfriend. We were something, but I didn’t know what exactly. I wasn’t yet ready to ask him to define it. I wanted him to take that next step on his own initiative.

If he wasn’t going to put more effort in, I wouldn’t either, but the heart yearned for him. I lit up every time he texted me. He occasionally sent me money to treat myself to something I liked, such as a hair or nail treatment. Perhaps he felt I was retreating because we had returned to our daily conversations.

Then, somewhere along the line, he talked about his date with another woman. It stemmed from a casual conversation about relationships.

“Like this woman I was on a date with recently…”

I didn’t hear the rest of the statement because I was busy fighting back the tears that were threatening to embarrass me. I managed to maintain composure, but my mood changed. I didn’t say much after that. He kept asking if I was fine, but I couldn’t decide what to tell him.

After battling with myself, I eventually decided to ask him, “Do you ever see us getting serious?”

“You know how much you mean to me, but I don’t see our relationship through that lens,” Norman replied.

He might as well have inserted a dagger in my chest and twisted it. “I am not the crazy one,” I told myself as I went through every conversation, all the actions and remarks that had given me the idea that there was something more than friendship between us. I wrote down that list and sent it to him.

“I am like that with all my friends,” he said.

I wanted to argue it out, but winning the argument wouldn’t mend my broken heart. He had been breadcrumbing me, and although I eventually left, I stayed with him, hoping he would commit to me.

Also check out:

Looking For Love On A Trail Of Breadcrumbs

We Dated For Months, But He Still Treated Our Relationship As A Secret. When Asked Who I Was, He Would Always Say I Was His Friend.

He Introduced Me To His Friend After Rejecting Me After Our Blind Date

My Roommate Locked Me Out And Took His Girlfriend Out Of Town For A Valentine’s Getaway

She Was Having Sex With Other Men To Give Him Gifts

He Appeared As Her Knight In Shining Armour When She Got Stood Up On A Blind Date But The Truth Of What Really Happened Was More Sinister

I Ghosted Him, Then He Showed Up To My Workplace Randomly For A Month

He Was A Traditional Man When It Suited Him But Neglected His Financial Duties To His Household