When Dare* (38) became friends with Lola* (36) five years ago, he had no intention of falling in love with her. He shrugged off his feelings as platonic, but as her wedding drew closer, he began to ask questions he’d initially ignored.
In this story, he takes a painful trip down memory lane and shares how he’s still swallowing the tough pill that he let the woman he loves slip between his fingers.
How We Met
Lola and I met on Facebook during the pandemic. I was bored and joined a group chat with people around my age who discussed trending online topics. It was a lot of fun, and after a while, everyone noticed that Lola and I were the closest in the group.
After the lockdown eased, the group chat’s activities slowly fizzled out, but Lola and I stayed in touch. We started texting privately and discovered how much we had in common. We both loved Arsenal and shared the same taste in films. Even better, she lived within walking distance of my place, so we visited each other a lot. That marked the start of an amazing friendship.
On weekends, I walked to her place, and we’d lie on the floor of her apartment, talking or playing board games. When work burnt her out, and she needed a break, she stayed over at my place to watch movies. We also watched long series separately and discussed them later on the phone.
Lola’s job as a nurse kept her very busy, but we kept in touch every day and saw each other at least once a week. She made me feel like I was in secondary school again; I could relax and be myself. We talked about almost everything.
Convincing Myself It Wasn’t Love
After a few months, I realised my platonic feelings for Lola were stronger than I initially thought. I didn’t want to rock the boat, so I kept them to myself and hoped they would fade.
Early in our friendship, she told me she was dating someone, Femi*, and didn’t want to cheat on him or give me the impression that she had more to offer than friendship. I didn’t mind at the time because I was still in the ‘building stage’ of my life, and wasn’t ready for commitment. However, after a while, I had to admit the truth to myself: I didn’t like Lola’s boyfriend.
They had been together since her nursing school days, but whenever Lola complained about him or asked for advice after their fights, I realised he didn’t cherish her the way I did. He lived in another state, so they were long-distance. Every time he visited, he rarely made an effort to spend time with her. Instead, he sent money; as if that was all she needed. I met him a few times and disliked how he shook my hands with sweaty palms and asked me to please take care of his girlfriend, as if that wasn’t his responsibility. He seemed too happy to outsource a role I would have gladly embraced.
Watching how often they fought and how much he ignored her, I didn’t think their relationship would last. Then everything changed in April 2024 when Lola’s father died suddenly after an illness. The loss broke her. During that period, her sadness felt like it was mine. I became her main emotional support because Femi was too busy with work to come to Lagos.
I did everything I could to cheer her up. I made special playlists, sent daily encouraging messages and cooked all the meals she took to work. All of these actions ultimately deepened our bond. Seeing her in such a vulnerable state intensified my love for her, but I continued to shrug it off as a purely platonic love.
I finally embraced the truth in September 2024 while cooking at her place, when we kissed. It was mindblowing, and that moment made it hard to deny the shift in our relationship. It could have gone further, but when we talked about it, she said she wanted to stay loyal to her relationship. I understood and didn’t push. Still, that kiss forced all the feelings I’d buried in my heart to surface.
I struggled with what to do next: should I ask her to explore these feelings with me, or suppress them to preserve our friendship?
While I still wrestled with that question, Lola excitedly showed me a glistening stone on her left hand during a video call. Femi had proposed, and she had said yes. Her face lit up with joy, and I didn’t want to dim it. I congratulated her, prayed for her, and swallowed my feelings as my heart sank.
The Day She Got Married
After Lola’s engagement, I lived in denial about what it meant for us. Her family already knew me well, so I was like a ‘brother’ helping with wedding plans. I worked with the wedding planner to sort out decorations and graphics so she could focus on work. Each night, I updated her on the progress, and she thanked me for always being there.
I convinced myself I was managing my emotions well, but as the wedding drew closer, breathing around Lola became harder. I told myself I had caught a bad flu, refusing to accept the truth. Seeing her wedding dress broke that illusion; I knew then that I was experiencing heartbreak.
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I’ll never forget that day. I visited her one Saturday afternoon and saw a big open suitcase in her living room, white fabric spilling out. When I asked, she lifted the dress excitedly. It was a gorgeous choice. She even put the veil on and offered to try on the dress for me, but I stopped her. I worried I would have gone on my knees and begged her to leave Femi for me. I faked an emergency and left earlier than I planned.
At home, I cried bitterly for the first time in years. Reality settled in. Once she married, I would lose her forever. Our kiss hadn’t changed anything. I mourned what we could have been, then pulled myself together and continued playing the role of the supportive friend.
The wedding was one of the hardest days of my life. I cried as I watched her walk down the aisle into another man’s arms. When the pastor asked if anyone objected, I stayed seated. I would never hurt Lola that way. We took a photo together that day. With my suit and the way she looked at me, we could have passed for the couple of the day. I’ve kept that photo as my screensaver ever since. I look at it anytime I miss her and wonder why it couldn’t have been us getting married that day.
What hurts most is how our friendship has changed since she got married. I can’t drop by her place to lie on the carpet and talk about life anymore. She no longer comes over for overnight movie marathons. It feels like a breakup, even though we were never together. Now, when we talk on the phone, I hear her husband’s voice in the background, and it cuts deep. I keep it all to myself because I don’t want to seem ungrateful or unhappy for her. I am genuinely happy for Lola, I’m just grieving what I lost.
Sometimes, sitting in the pool of my heartbreak, I wonder if I should have tried to come between her and Femi earlier. Then I remember I’m not as wealthy as Femi, and I would never put Lola in a situation where she’d have to suffer. It’s been almost three months since the wedding, and my heart aches just as badly as the day Lola married Femi. I’ve been trying to hold it in, but sometimes, it gets too much for me to carry alone.
I hope this heartbreak eases someday, but I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to give any woman all the parts of myself I’ve saved for Lola.
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