I suffered a number of heartbreaks in my youth. None however was as severe and devastating as the heartbreaks caused by my support for a certain football club. For several years it was harrowing. Each loss was accompanied by nightmarish recounting of errors, loss of appetite, migraine and mood swings. Like every love affair, it started strongly. Several beautiful nights that were characterized by loud banters, singing at bars and unchoreographed  dance steps. Even amidst the heartbreaking years, there were rare moments of joy. Except that as the years rolled by, the joyful  moments became far between.

Till today I still cannot recall when the love affair began or how. I do remember though that it had something to do with the artistry of the early days of the Wenger years and the legworks of Thiery Henry, Dennis ‘the menace’ and perhaps Papilo. It was fun, real fun, until the painful years set in.

For years I suffered weekly and some time bi-weekly traumas and nightmarish pains spiced with vanilla flavor. A moment came when I had to chose between being subjected to pain and walking out of love. I chose to runaway so I can live another day. But it was not easy. Though taking that lonely walk was a sound decision, it was as humiliating as walking out of a relationship because the object of your love had moved on to another love interest.

It’s been years since my last heartbreak. I still love her. I have learnt to love from a distance. It was a gentleman agreement between my vulnerable heart and I. We’d suffered together for so long that taking the hard decision to walk out of the love affair was the best decision. Each time I encounter people who are still in the place I used to be I feel their pain and I understand the difficulty of taking the long walk out of the red corner.

Looking back now from my safe distance I appreciate the difficulty of walking out of a relationship where much emotional investment is committed. If you’ve ever broken up with someone you still love, you will know the difficulty of handling separation. You will know that as crazy as it seems the only one who can give succor during difficult post-break-up moments is the object of the pain. I managed my separation well. I overcame the post break-up pains and I am healthier for it.

As much as I am enjoying life without her I have chosen, like a woman that took an oath of chastity not to commit to another. She may not be irreplaceable but her place cannot be taken by another. I still feel warmth when I remember the good days and I know that the beautiful moments cannot be recreated by another.

I know the ease of rekindling old love interests. I am versed in the articles of ‘Okafor’s law, so I know to avoid frequent drop-by to check on her wellbeing. To avoid any emotional entanglement, I take casual drives on match days to avoid the temptation of turning the TV Channels. I accept that she would lose even before a ball is kicked. I avoid banters about her irrespective of which corner it’s coming from. I am at peace knowing that what you don’t know don’t hurt you.

Supporting Arsenal football club brings immeasurable pain. For most supporters of the club, the pain is as severe as the pain that accompanies chemotherapy. I really should drink to celebrate my victory over the pains induced by that  team in red. Sadly I cannot. Like  a man who is still in love with an ex I still crave to hear good news about Arsenal. I want to hear that they are doing well but I must avoid the temptation to ‘check on them’ so as not to start another cycle of longing

I share the grief of those who are experiencing the pain I used to have. My counsel to them is to take things easy. Like high blood pressure, it is slow… often painless but it can kill. For majority of the fans a breakup is inconceivable. I understand. I was once like you. Love ought to be without pain. It should be beautiful. Yet with Arsenal, Love means long suffering, garnished at intervals with beautiful moments.

7^th December 2020