When she cheats 2

woman in depression and despair crying on black dark

After previewing a million movies, scheming Joe and I unanimously settled for The Coalition. He assured me it was a girlie and romantic movie, which is not his type, but he would watch for my sake. Oh really. I thought. And who said I like girlie movies? I still thought. I am in a dead relationship which doesn’t motivate me to watch romance films. Watching such makes you emotional and you feel like the world is against you. You suddenly become heart-broken and worse still, you feel like some man has betrayed you by not serving you breakfast in bed.

We stared at the movie absentmindedly. Prime Alexander liked Skylar, did all what men do best and finally fungad her in a warm, fire-lit house. That scene handicapped our minds. Joe drew closer and I rested my head delicately on his shoulder. His hand sneaked round my waist as my brain stopped functioning. I took a deep breath. A smile melted from the corner of his mouth. He was on the right track. He was conquering.

I got nervous. “Do you still fear me?” he turned and asked. “No”. “Great. Come here” He said as he pulled me. Prime Alexander was now kissing Skylar passionately and lifted her, putting her to bed and stripping her. We lost it there too. Joe stared into my eyes. My heart was throbbing furiously. Reflex action makes you lick your lips in readiness. He lifted my chin and reached for my now moist lips. He kissed me tenderly for about 30 seconds. The kiss felt like the inside of a fresh rose covered with morning dew. He paused, maybe to see if we were reading from the same script. I kissed him… we were reading from the same page, same line, same word.

“I like you a lot”. He said after the out-of-this-world kiss. He was a good kisser. Bad boys know how to do everything. Some people out there cannot kiss. He kisses, no, not kiss… he does something like a cow licking salt-lick or wags the tongue like a panting dog. So far, Joe was my favorite drug. He kissed my neck, his tongue on my too sensitive skin. It had been decades since I felt so good. He ripped my blouse hastily and threw it. Thank God his house was not a bedsitter. You throw something blindly in a bedsitter, you’ll find it landed in the sink, dustbin or more horrifying, in a sufuria of githeri.

I was now kissing his neck and breathing softly. One of his arms reached for my bra and unhooked it. Who else goes crazy over that one-hand thing? He hungrily reached for my breasts as I shivered with insanity. It was misty outside. He pushed me back on the cold couch and whispered how much he liked me. He was panting and kissing my navel. My mind was racing, again. My church man. Will he find out? Oh no… I have kissed Joe. I was not loyal. I can’t sleep with him… I don’t want a long list. “I can’t do this.” I said weakly. “Why not babe?” He asked. Isn’t it funny how a friend suddenly becomes babe when hormones are at the peak? “It’s okay. We can’t do what you don’t like.” he assured me, disappointed, as he tied my bra and rubbing my back, giggling. “Sorry I rushed you”. He said.

I went home feeling so guilty and confused. I had kissed him and even let him touch what was not yet his. I respect my church boy. He might be totally boring but he is good. But being good is not enough. I want to feel alive. I want to feel like a woman. I want my lover to drive me crazy and spice up my life. But my church boy was just there, making me feel dead like a dodo. I felt lifeless but with Joe, I felt like Marilyn Monroe. He would hold my waist or hand when we walked in town. We were friends for long and I was comfortable around him. Some men out there are too uptight and you fart around them, you become his ex.

I woke up to a text from Joe. I know you think am a play boy and all that. But I am in this. I am serious with you. You are too amazing to let you go just like that. I don’t care whether you have somebody. I will make you mine.

I read, re-read and re-read that text a million times smiling. I started analyzing every single word, closing my eyes to feel those words. I don’t know why we do such silly things. My favorite was I will make you mine. These words were beautiful. They were like balm on a sore. They were very assuring. 2 weeks lapsed but we kept in touch. Joe was out of town.

The next time I saw my church man, I felt nothing for him. I blocked him mentally. He was like an old stump. Or a rag outside the bathroom. Or cobwebs. Or anything awful you can think of. I just did not feel him. I did not hug him. I did not want to watch a movie with him. I did not want contact. I just didn’t want to see him. He asked me why I was indifferent. I said I was just tired of waiting. For what? He asked, alarmed. “For you. Do you even love me?” “Yes. I do. Very much.” I sneered and went back to Facebook. I checked WhatsApp and Joe had texted me, of course. He said he wanted to see me the next day as he was back in town. I said yes. Any time. Even tonight. I couldn’t wait to see him.

I left my house hurriedly the next day and left my African man in the house. I had immensely missed Joe. It was like I was going for a warm swim. Or closer home, it was like I was going to eat my favorite meal.

I arrived in Joe’s house when he was in his bedroom. He shouted from his room, asking me to go to the bedroom. I stood at the door, smiling. He was wearing jeans and the t-shirt he wanted to wear had Mandela’s picture, below it was written, umkhonto we sizwe. He hugged me and planted kisses. He looked at me lovingly. He kissed my neck and whispered how much he missed me. He grabbed my haga ferociously, aware that we now had this familiarity after the last time. That sounded too rapey.

“Don’t worry Gee. I won’t rush you. Take all the time you need to be ready,” he said. I smiled and he kissed me again, this time, very sure of his moves. His hands held me tight, our hearts joining into one. We held on for minutes, talking but not facing each other. “I can’t lie to you that I will back down because you have a man or whatever crazy reasons you have. I will make you mine, Gee.” He said.

 “Oh Joe…” I whispered, secretly impressed with the guts, now holding him tighter, my head on his collar bone. “Today we will go biking.” He said. He was my type of guy.

14 comments

  1. Mwamburi Mwang'ombe says:

    Mbingu na ardhi ya wanadamu vitasongea miaka zaidi ya hamsini kabla ya kukutana na ubunifu wa aina hii ndani ya biniti umri huu! Iwe funzo na kumbukumbu kwamba waitwao “Waandishi Mashuhuri” ni butu tu. Lau, ni jukumu langu kukufanya mashuhuri. Heko bibiye…

    • Gladwell Pamba says:

      Nashukuru sana ndugu yangu… Maneno yako yanafanya napata raha. Mungu akubariki kwa kua na roho nzuri. Umenipa moyo sana…

Leave a Reply