Their relationship was going well. As their classes were almost synonymous., they would meet daily after classes, have an ice cream, have a walk, go to the movies, play games with his old Hp laptop labeled with pictures of the Madame, or just chill in his/her house talking; just talking, bonding, spooning…..
* * * * * * * * * *
But suddenly, calls became rare, the after-class moments weren’t possible because she had assignments. She couldn’t WhatsApp because she had lost her Samsung galaxy trendy phone and neither could she text because she was both busy and broke. The tight grip of love was losing its hold. No more sex; then no more cuddling; then no more communication; then no more of anything. She was bored, she said. She also wanted a little time to know what she wanted out of life, where she was going; and they couldn’t do so together, it had to be an individual affair, and she needed a break. The guy sulked, and from that day on he has been carrying a Bible, having turned to God to carry the burden for him.
The meal is ready. No excitement whatsoever. They talk as if in whispers. “Pass the plates”. “What’s the time?” All faint voices. “Where is Ryan?” Another faint voice. They had forgotten of the lad. He has been out for too long. After hearing the stories of the other three, he had panicked. He called the lass that was now his beloved, to confirm the position with her. They had met, their meeting taking longer than the men had agreed, either because the lovers had extended their moments of affection or the group was about to have another casualty.
Suddenly, a squeak is heard. The door opens slowly, and a head is seen first, like the head of a sniper’s gun. Ryan enters slowly, careful with his steps as though passing through a land mine. He closes the door after fully letting himself in. All eyes are on him and he knows it. He can feel the eyes pierce through him. Awaiting a confirmation by way of good news or of bad. He hopes to have few seconds to organize himself, to organize his message. But his face betrays him and so does the tear dropping slow from his right eye. The message is known without a word. All are casualties; the dinner served might be a good treat for all them. Or so they hope.
This is the situation, not of all men, but of a considerable number of them in campus. The boys no longer run the shows, they are ridden like horses and abandoned when and where the lasses want. As much as there are weeks so there are heartbreaks. Love, or perceived life, thought to make life in campus abundant and meaningful, thought to motivate, to inspire, to provide inner drive and be fulfilling to both parties is turning out to disappoint most of them.
I can’t speak of the ladies, for their situation is not fully known to me, and neither can I speak for the whole lot of men, but this I know; to a significantly large number of male students, campus love has been a tough ride full of scars, scathing, tears, distress, and much agony leading them all to the same end; to the same pitiful, melancholic, regretful and hurtful end for them all.