Oftentimes, I wear my heart on my sleeve. I go into love’s war just like that. No tactics. At the click of a finger – that easily.
And it did seem a bit weird some time in my life to be that simplistic. If I am honest, I don’t know why, though. Other people prefer tactics. The game, as it’s called, and I don’t. I just don’t. I am terrible at playing mind games and making people guess my next move.
Coming to think of it, even, I would have made a bad soldier, or anything remotely close to that job. I’d want to run into enemy territory without too much planning and time wasting. I can see myself in my mind’s eye shouting, Let’s go in guys; let’s get done with these bastards! Of course to the surprise and irritation of my colleagues. “Themba, how many times do we have to tell you. You just cannot jump into harm’s way without proper due diligence,” they’d say.
I am not saying I never use my sharp and attractive mind to think things through. Weigh pros and cons, and such things. I do. I just never pretend not to feel something. I am an openly open book.
At my own admission, I am weak. I really am.
I get whipped way too easily. I fall head over heels in love without even trying. Sometimes even when I am not looking to. I am that easy.
And I show it plainly. No decorations. No bells and whistles. No parade. No cheerleaders and upbeat singing. None. Just my being plainly in love. In the past, I have made a hash of things because of this. I won’t bother you with the details 🙂
And of course, as there are nuanced and modern rules of the dating game, my being old fashioned leaves a lot to be desired. Some times. Depending on who I am dealing with. Coming to think of it, it is actually easy to hate myself over this. Which I actually don’t.
I am happy with myself. Old fashioned and all.
And vastly intelligent.
I love my being weak in the face of innocence, beauty, big brains and an exquisite pair of breathtaking breasts. In such a situation, I become breathless. Ndiyafa! I die a slow and peaceful death, and then come back from it. I fall in love too easily.
And some time in my life, I met a young woman with whom I fell in love. I was going on about my life, doing this and that, dreaming about traveling the world while tap dancing with my pen and delivering mesmerising presentations. She was determined, too, to make something impressive of herself. And in that commonality we started talking to each other. A little at first. She had some boyfriend of sorts then. I wasn’t looking at her like that anyway.
I thought she had a sharp mind.
Time passed by. We had more conversations. More face time. We started knowing each other intimately. In an innocent fashion. At the time, I had been introduced to the boyfriend already and the guy liked me. We had some common interests. I know what you’re thinking now. Oooh, friend zoned! Not quite.
There was some passion later on.
I don’t remember when we exchanged mobile numbers. Our conversations then went on overdrive, running late into the night and early mornings on WhatsApp. If only the messaging platform could spew what went down there. And no, things didn’t snowball rapidly into heavy breathing on each other’s necks and the tugging of bras and undies. It went rather slowly. She was a friend at first. I personally knew her man then. But my being conversationally captivating didn’t make matters easy for us. We continued meeting and texting and giggling… and then one day!
She decided to wear a short skirt.
After that, I was done in!
I saw her legs that morning and I loved them. I now connected her beautiful mind to two of the hottest legs / thighs I had ever seen and they ran. With my heart. I never really got it back to its hey-we-are-friends state. Which was dangerous, really. But as you now know my weakness – yup! You guessed it! I fall in love too easily.
I started seeing her as a lover.
And pursued her I did. I blame her for exposing her legs that fateful day – it made me conveniently forget she had a boyfriend who knew me. But we weren’t friends. Just distant people who were now looking at the same woman with the same excited eye. At the show of a pair of legs and I was taken.
One morning, the day whose previous night we spoke candidly about my raging feelings for her. First for her mind, the first part of hers I caressed with delicacy. Second, for her firm / athletic legs. Third, for her lips – fuuuck! She could kiss! Though I didn’t tell her all that process. Things never were the same between us. That brotherly-sisterly bond was intensified with a few lethal drops of innocence-debilitating love. Passionate love. Fire. Let me eat your lips off for supper type of love. The Let me rummage through your backside sort. Pure excitement. It was ecstatic. Sweet. Hurried. It was we-might-get-caught type of hair raising. One eye open when we are asleep. It was riveting. We enjoyed the secrecy. It became one of the sauciest bits.
Although it could have been a whole lot better if we had been official. And the world knew her as missus Jay. It would’ve been heartwarming.
My heart raced like never before during our time together. Intelligent conversations after steamy and acrobatic sex were an institution. Our favourite pastime. And if you must know, it became a bit awkward with the guy I was sharing the sexy-legged woman with. Conversations became stiff. I tried to grease them (with my awesomeness, of course), but without success.
Oh, well. I suppose you can’t win over all of them.
And so I stretched her. Mentally, and otherwise. And the more she gave me her attention and trust – the more I fell in love with her. To some extent, it was chaos. It was fun. It really was. This is the last time I speak of this! Actually, what has come over me?
I never talk about such things that happen in my life. I instead talk about how we can use social media in ways that transform how we do and distribute our work, how we tell our stories to the world; how we can create our own platforms and bypass gatekeepers and pursue what makes us happy. I talk about that. I rattle on and on about eloquent communication being very important in having your stories heard. I also touch on how great writing and impressive speaking abilities are not devices reserved for professional writers and speakers. They are necessary everyday tools.
Never have I openly spoke about such saucy things. Okay, perhaps a few times. If I’m honest, I recently wrote about my missing a beautiful woman with whom I was in love. I wrote about her. About my feelings. She’s one of the best things to ever happen to me. She loves my writing like crazy – quite literally! – and she is an avid supporter of my work. And I love her. Even with her, she did not have to be full of some activity for me to fall in love with her.
She just had to be herself. And that she was.
And what I did I do? I fell for her.
Our first kiss was magical. Long. Heated. Full of love. Expertly done. She’s an amazing kisser – a real pro. She drove me crazy. Oh, her mind is something else! I remember there’s something people say about how like attracts like. This was precisely it. I have the tendency of being close with intelligent women and end up fondling them – well, first their brains, and then we proceed to using our other organs. Our kisses were never dull, ever.
But that bloody skirt, though!
I fall in love too easily. I choose to see it as a good thing. One of my best strengths. In a world full of trickery and conniving behaviour and scheming – falling in love too easily just might be my death. I am aware of that. And I become visibly distraught when I am heartbroken, too. I am that guy. What do they call it, again? Oh yes, being in touch with my feminine side. In tune with my emotions. Which makes sense why I am able to connect with a myriad people and make them feel like it is totally okay when they become vulnerable in front of me.
My sexy-legged friend. Technically, she was still a friend, despite our Olympic record breaking romps. Our strong connection meant that we soon found ourselves in a predicament. She was able to talk to me about things that hurt her when she was a child. And some other family matters. So we connected on a deeper level through our long conversations. We became more than sex buddies. Things grew and they became a bit complicated. It got to a point where we could sit together, say nothing at all to each other but still feel at peace. We weren’t romantic, as in holding hands or anything of that sort. But our spending simple time together canceled all that out.
Our hearts raced when we saw each other. Our hugs were an occasion. Strong feelings passed through them.
And unwittingly, we were thrust into a serious relationship.
She couldn’t dump her boyfriend. I did not want her to. Or, did I? I was in love with her. Perhaps I felt guilty about what the guy would go through if he was chucked out the way she was contemplating. So we agreed that she shouldn’t, that’s if she still loved him, too, and wanted to build something a bit more lasting with him. Something based on more than toe-curling sex. It wasn’t an easy decision. We had grown closer than some of our long time friends were close to us. We agreed that though we were having fun, we were going to pay dearly in the long run for our actions.
So, for reasons we thought best
We parted ways
Her eyes swell
I was miserable
I wrote myself into a stupor
And though pithy…
Our text conversations were intense
She wasn’t going to let it be
She let me know
There’ll be no love dying here
It seemed as though she was going to completely break down
We’d decided not to meet for a while
We were putting out the fire our decision sparked
It was supposed to be for the best
We’d thought it through
We’d talked it through
But we couldn’t stop thinking about each other
We were working backwards, for whenever we texted each other – the fire re-ignited
A simple Hi sent waves through our hearts
We were in love
We eliminated time and space whenever we looked at each other
She cried some more
It was insane
To comfort her… I sent her voice notes via WhatsApp
I said this, that and the next thing
And she shivered from joy
She had always loved my voice
Went crazy over my being well-spoken
And just like that…
We were back to square one!
We decided to meet again one day. It might have been the biggest mistake we’ve made yet. But the jury’s still out. (I don’t think they are coming back even. We’ll see.) I went to her home after work – I was a master sales consultant and cashier at a PEP store at the Carlton Centre branch in Johannesburg CBD. She had had a great day at work and was in high spirits. I walked in and she was even happier. We spent a considerable amount of time catching up on the time we were apart. Our faces lit up then; we were in each other’s presence and nothing else mattered. We talked for what must’ve been two hours straight, and she snapped out of my hypnosis and forgot she didn’t even offer me a glass of water. We laughed heartily. While I was gulping down the glass, she prepared supper – it was 10:00PM. I had to be at work the following day – 8:00AM sharp!
That didn’t seem to matter then.
She sauntered back into the living room, two round medium dishes in hand. A smile on her face, wearing light shorts which exposed her beautiful thighs and walking barefoot – I loved her feet. “If you want coffee, can you please go make it. Mina I am cool,” she said after setting the dishes atop the table. I’ve never suffered from hesitation when it comes to making myself food, wherever I find myself. So I happily got up and strolled into the kitchen and fixed myself a large cup.
Back in the living room, we ate, laughed and dissected a television series we were watching – everything felt right.
She caught me a few times glancing at her thighs and smiled. But James Spader’s storytelling – portraying Raymond Reddington – kept me off her. The Blacklist is one of my most favourite television productions of all time! I love how he is able to communicate almost all his points using short stories. And that way, he becomes more memorable. Although the fascinating part to seriously note is that Reddington is who he is because of the people around him. Dembe, for one. A trusted friend and right hand man who’s become family to Red. And a lot more other relationships that allow Red to run a well-oiled, global freelancing and consulting business.
Anyone who has the ability to string a few sentences together and have people attentively listening to them fascinates me. Reddington, in this regard, is in a league of his own. Because of this, I was glued to the screen. We’d finished eating then, and I was having my second cup of coffee, when we sat lazily on the couch cuddling each other. We absentmindedly kissed a few times while watching the TV series. So much for breaking up!
My working hard, toiling away earlier in the day at work finally caught up with me. I started dozing off. I barely kept my eyes open. And then I fell asleep mid-episode when Reddington was planning to kidnap Berlin’s daughter, and return her to him. Berlin (a criminal kingpin who spent twenty years thinking Reddington killed her daughter) stopped at nothing with his attempts to kill Red. So it was the only way he could save himself from his wrath. When the gangsters from both camps met in the middle of the night at a deserted warehouse, theirs cars glaring at each other with bright lights, one to deliver the girl and the other to kill Reddington (they didn’t know he had their boss’s daughter, alive), I was fast asleep.
Embraced in the arms of the woman I loved and had broken up with a month prior. Here I was, at her home, peacefully asleep with her. Actually, I wasn’t asleep, I was dead – I was that tired.
When I woke up to go to the loo (so much for that much coffee earlier), the time sitting around 3:30AM, the television was watching us then. When I returned to the room, she was fiddling about the couch, blindly looking for something to hold. I stood there, with a smile on my face. And then, out of irritation, she opened her eyes. She smiled. I helped her up and suggested she go sleep more comfortably in the bedroom. “Without you?” she asked, now wide eyed. Before I could say anything in response, she blurted out, “I know you love Raymond Reddington. You can always watch him over the weekend with me!” She said it matter-of-factly. I obliged and allowed myself to be led by her, hand in hand.
In those wee hours of the morning, we made love. Slowly. We weren’t in a hurry – well, I was. I had to go to work in less than two hours, and we had just gotten started. I was enjoying her. Should I go? Should I call in sick or something? Though strenuous, I loved my work – I enjoyed dealing with people. And so I kissed her expertly, gently, carefully – at that point, we both knew we loved each other. I loved her skin, so I patiently brushed it with my tongue… every part of her body. I happily devoured her. Some time later, at the expert use of my tongue, she gushed! Her slightly brown eyes went up into her skull, leaving her eyeballs completely white. Her body trembled violently, and gradually, she experienced pulsating contractions for the next few minutes. When she nestled on my chest, I could hear her hard, laboured breathing – she had made incredible noise when she came. She absolutely loves the feeling and isn’t shy to make a show of it.
I allowed her to bask and take the ecstasy all-in.
I had decided. I was not going to work.
When she came, I was supposed to be at the Orange Farm, Extension 2 taxi rank already. Not getting out of bed. I took my phone and formulated a message that communicated my sincerest apologies for my missing work that day. The powers that be knew how much I loved and enjoyed my work – I worked in that business and serviced customers like it was my father’s business. Whenever I was absent, I was told about customers who turned back and returned to buy shoes for their children when I was present. They trusted my opinion, they appreciated the company while wanting to decide what to spend their money on – they loved the authenticity.
Seeing her vulnerable beside me made her even more beautiful a human being. There was no running away from the fact that I loved her, dearly.
We had a mind-twisting conversation about this and that. In that chit chat, we exchanged our fantasies and decided not to have them remain fantasies. So we brought them to life.
We had the most satisfying sex since we met. We submitted ourselves to each other, fully. That time was even more acrobatic, we happily did things which she dismissed as being filthy just two months ago. She had dark, twisted, sweet fantasies. I was happy to oblige and extract them from her mind and turn them into art patiently performed on her bed. On the sofa. At the kitchen, when we had our first morning coffee. In the hallways, it was a rather big house. We walked around the house naked until she had to go deliver a presentation of some description at around 11:30AM.
She is utterly well spoken. I loved that about her, dearly. We had an unspoken battle going on between us on who was an absolute artist at speaking. I think that further sharpened our word-slinging abilities.
Closer to 10:00AM (after we had been nakedly re-watching the episode of The Blacklist during which we dozed off last night), we took a bath together. Yet again, explosives! We barely had any space for the both of us, instead of that being a serious mood killer, it accentuated everything! The clever creating of space while we made love became iconic. It became space engineering. At one point, she had her right leg over my shoulder while I thrust into her depths with the precision of a gifted craftsman. Yet again, she went to the otherworld. Water dripping down on both of us, it was calming. The experience eliminated time and space. Everything else in the world stopped at that moment and it was just us, the lack of space, the water, our naked bodies thrusting rhythmically – it was just us and the passion. Nothing else. Even her appointment fell by the wayside. We forgot her momentous presentation. Momentarily.
At some point I stopped mid-thrust. “Babe, I know this is fun, but what about your presentation? Phela you won’t ever be better than me at speaking if you keep missing opportunities to refine yourself shem!” She snapped out of the stupor. “Oh my God! What time is it?!” She looked shaken. “I don’t know hey,” I said. Just when she wanted to jump into the bedroom to get ready, I leaned in and whispered, “You still… we have enough time to get you to the United Arab Emirates, by pure passion and imagination for now, of course. We’ll make love at a Marriot International shower some day. That is to say we have enough time to get you ready for your presentation.” She giggled.
And so we went at it one more time. Like a pair of dogs on heat I tell ya! This was the finale. And we made sure to finish our romp as strong as we had begun it. We came in unison, it was fireworks – I’d never groaned like that before then. And just like she did earlier, she let out a piercing scream to signal her pleasure. She must’ve been singing even! I heard Adele in the shower with me that morning. Standing ovation, broad smiles, panting breathlessly, tightly locked into each other’s arms. We regained a connection with our surroundings and we nodded simultaneously at the thought that she needs to get ready now, for her 11:30AM.
I quickly stole some time away from her to watch Raymond Reddington fly over to Germany to pursue a target he had been paid handsomely to negotiate with. To diffuse a potentially dangerous situation brewing in the criminal underworld.
After she was done getting ready, we walked out together from the house, she hopped into her car and went forth to mesmerise her awaiting audience. I walked home. I got there and hung out, smiling ear to ear. I played music – Maxwell’s music does the trick for me. I remember writing two short articles, one about the reasons we should appreciate the good people in our lives and another, about how trust and tears are a blessing in our human relationships. I then changed tune and briefly listened to Kem. After a few songs of his, I turned to the soothing voice of Gregory Porter – through his album, Liquid Spirit. I listened to five songs on it and then toggled to the last song on the album and I found myself repeating it countless times. It was titled, I Fall In Love Too Easily.
My phone vibrated, the screen flickered and came to life. I looked at it. “I am nervous Themba, but I’ll do a great job presenting. And I’ll get it on video for you. I LOVE YOU!”
And I started writing myself silly.