The first time we were to meet I stood her up. But that time I didn't understand how being stood up felt, when you experience a certain kind of pain you are more companionate to people who have experienced it.
The second time we met I told her we were going to the club. She figured she should wear sports clothes. She did. It was a little awkward, people stared at us. Am sure asking who is this? What is she wearing?
But they gave her a free pass, cause she is beautiful. Very beautiful, brown skin, dark hair, well sized, well mannered, calm and confident. She pulled it off.
Obviously I wasn't going to get some after that date, it wasn't perfect. She was perfect though.
We met a couple of other times.
We had a picnic once. It was beautiful, I parked chicken, no, it was fish, it was fish most of the times, roasted potatoes, soda cans, and ice cubes in their thermos. We watched the lake with car doors open, stepping on the soft green grass with socks. Music scenting the afternoon air.
We kissed, her lips were inexperienced, like she was a good girl, not used to kissing a lot. Inexperience is sometimes good.
"you know how many times I cried?"
"I had a miscarriage..."
"and my ex-boyfriend wasn't there for me..."
"I felt so sick..."
"and instead of comforting me, he treated me like trash..."
I didn't know how I had turned into this guy who women talk to about other men with. Am usually that guy who other women talk to other women and other men about. But roles had changed.
But when she looks out of the window as she talks. She looks sad, she is beautiful, she is beautifully sad, don't you just feel like you want to care for her. Protect her. She brought out a little man in me at that moment. I didn't change the topic, I let her let it all out.
I didn't try to make her ex look bad, and I look good. It would have been a very productive move to get into her jeans. But sometimes, you turn human, don't you, put your interests aside and listen.
"_________"
That's me drawing a blank. That's me not knowing what to tell her. That's me watching her hurt and I can't do jerk about it. That's me parking at the side of the road to listen.
When she was done, we met again. It was another new day, with fresh smoles like the day before didn't happen. She still didn't give it up though.
But then there are these chics who aren't boring, sometimes you want one thing, given. But in addition to wanting that one thing, you find other things. Things like you like hanging out with her. Tara, tara... But chics don't understand that usually. They think men are one minded, kama anataka hiyo, ni hiyo tu anataka.
So I stuck around, I picked her from her place, and the jam those sides where she lives is not decent jam. It's survival for the fittest. But she always held my arm when those matatu guys kept hooting and I hide in the tinted glass. Her hand calmed me down usually.
You know the way a real lady touches you arm & at that moment you remember, gentlemen are inside the car, hooligans are outside. Yap.
Her birthday was coming.
That's when I really planned for it. I got champagne. I got fancy glasses. I got candles. I stole some red roses from a place I will not reveal. Do you know what I did with the roses? I deflowered them, okay, let's say de-petalled them. Piece after piece of the red scented petals all over my bedroom. I got her a pair of shoes, a teddy bear for her to hug when am not around. And stuffed it under the bed in a fancy gift box.
She melted. As in she melted, I know all this romantic whatever is cliche. But that's kinda the point don't you think? Men who like a woman do that routine, don't they.
It was special to her, cause I think it meant that she now belonged to the class of women who have had rose petals spread all over the room, candles lit, curtains clothes, champagne poured in actual champagne flutes so that the sparkly is neat, the bubbly well seen and the flutes act as speakers for the music the bubbly golden liquid make. She was that kind of girl now. The one who has had that done for her. If I was a girl, I would boast.
"pia wewe have you had the candle, teddy bear routine..."
"ehh,"
"yes"
"yes"
Imagine if you are a girl and you haven't had that? C you will have to lie.
She loved it. That day we did it. I wasn't expecting it. But we did it. And I almost fainted just before we did it. As we did it, in my mind I was thinking. Oh my, am actually doing it. Oh my am actually doing it. Oh my am actually doing it. Oh, my am actually...
And soon after I invited her to a backyard party. That I threw with another girl! Yeah I know, Bobby wtf!
When she was there and I noticed she was the only one who didn't know anyone there but me. I died. But it was too late. I died but it was too late.
Cause here I was, in the hands of another girl. Pretending nothing had happened between us.
Anyways... She is married now. She made a friend at the party who told me, she is now married to the guy she used to fight with. The one of the miscarriage. And they are happy. But they had been fighting about me.
Maybe that's why she unfriended me on Facebook, maybe that's why she has never called. It took me a year to notice. Back then before her birthday she kept on saying.
"Bobby, I know you only want one thing from me...once you get it you will leave."
I didn't believe I was that guy then. It wasn't in my mind that I was that guy that time. Imagine if you refuse to think about the things you do you can actually be that guy and not realize it. Yeah, you can lie to yourself! Deceive yourself! Trust me, I know now. Think about stuff sometimes, yourself, ama?
I didn't intend to be that kinda guy, but my circumstances made me that guy, simply meaning. I didn't intend to leave her like that, after i was in her jeans, but I left like that.
If I was that guy I was before today, not the angel am trying to be today. I would text her, I would text her. I would stare at her new Facebook photo (very cute kid by the way, as in very very very cute kid by the way) and say add as friend. And you know what would happen if I did that. I would break up a family. The guy will blow it out of proportion.
"is that that Bobby guy? Why does he have your number?"
I can text her, I can call her, I can send her a message through social media. But I will not, cause she is happy now I figure. But she must be sad about what I did to her. So what I will do is call her friend. And I will explain to her how she was an awesome girl. It's not that she wasn't good enough, it's cause I am screwed up. It's cause sometimes during that time I didn't feel adequate, and I had to surround myself with a crowd of women to feel alright. And she boasted my ego. And I cared for her. And yes I wanted her nini. But I also wanted more.
"why are you telling me all this?" her friend would ask.
"cause I want you to go tell her that, so that all the hurt I caused her by leaving like that goes away...she doesn't feel like she was inadequate for me, so that she feels like a jewel."
And as her friend who I am seated for coffee with sips her coffee. I will add...
"but don't tell her you met me, cause I don't want to cause her more pain, just make it sound like you knew about how Bobby felt all that time for her, it's just that you never told her."
That way, I will be in her past, a sweet past. That way the thing I did for her birthday will not be a means to an end which was in her jeans. But a cliche that all awesome girls get that at one time.
"how is your kid?" she would be seated with her friends around the table who are all mothers I think.
"he is doing great..."
"look at that couple over there, the young guy with the flowers..."
"yeah, so cute."
"you know once there was this guy called Bobby, he cared for me, it wasn't true love cause true love is with my husband, but he made me feel like I was the best thing that happened to earth those old days"
