Sometimes, In the most absurd, off-guard, inconceivable moments; sometimes in the height of our folly and the glories of our youth- we meet our truths. We meet our authentic self’s, our virtues, hopes and desires reflected in something or someone- and it was all I could possibly imagine. Ultimate Bliss. Ultimate happiness. An ultimate union.
Let’s cut through the chase.
Like how all good stories began, I met a guy- his name is Israel. And we get along.
At the heart of Karen, in Nairobi. I hosted a ‘subtle’ birthday party- cosy if you may. Pardon the ball gowns and Luis Vuitton print cake. The festivities were delightful. They really were
But are you even human, if you can’t admit that, when the party’s over, you don’t wanna walk home alone; in the desolate silence of the Nairobian night and go sleep to an empty cold bed. No worries though, I am human. And I chose not to be alone that night.
I saw him, in all his glory, with that strong Congolese flair. In all his calmness, clearly in his element. Clearly from my party. I looked him deep in his eyes and told him;
‘ Can I go home with you tonight? I don’t want to sleep alone.”
It must have been a lucky night for him.
“Sure! Sure! You are welcome to my place.”
“ We are not having sex BTW.” I said in the most blunt form imaginable.
“Okay.”he said, with a naughty look in his eyes. My instincts were right. He lied.
Save all the after party drama that being in a cab let’s you witness, we more or less, got home in one piece. In the middle of the night, in my lovely red ball gown, intensely designed nails with a perfect blend of transparent, gold and black Polish; with make-up done the Nairobian way, I was a princess- and just for tonight I had chosen him to be my prince charming.
And yes- he is marvelous. Once in a blue moon, you get the most heartfelt cuddles, the most enlightened conversations from a stranger’s bed. And it’s real. It feels real. It looks real. Because it is real. We talked about life, love, loss, death and unrecognized love. We talk about ex lovers(mine of course). Then we talk some more. Dawn came as we shared about our experiences, misfortunes and gains- and maybe for a moment_time stood still. We belonged to each other and there, life was worth living.
We slept in each others arms. We kissed and cuddled some more. Then more. We feel asleep in each other’s arms- well at least I did. Next thing I remember was his hands down my sweet spot and me screaming uncontrollably in the midst of the sleep high. We did again and again. We ate about to it actually. And it’s magnificent.
What’s better than sex, is him. Clique as it maybe, his heart is golden. His love for his is unparalleled. He loves reggae. A lot. He takes care of his own. With him, it’s always joy, Bliss, meditation and fun. His forehead kisses are to die for. There is no morning I do not give thanks for him. My joy is his. And his is mine. As long we stare into each other’s eyes, we will be fine.
Tecla.
The Fat Girl Next Door 