I could blame school-at least going back to school, or the resultant lack of time, I could blame a lapse in creativity-if what I have posted thus far can be described by such flattering an adjective…heck! I could even blame my colossal failure in working at a relationship…but, I will not. That would be too easy. And like my women, I prefer my life and choices a tad more difficult-at least sometimes. The truth is, I grew lazy. Yes, grew. The paradox is clear even as I write this. Growth signifies positive, beneficial progress which generally I have not made so far. But I grew lazy, yes. Grew lazy because I have stayed at the same spot, languished in the same state for so long, that, like a cancer or weed that grows unwanted so too have I become.
Enough of the self-derision though, alcohol was invented for that, I watched a couple-friends of mine, get into a fight-like only couples can, over the most amazingly mundane thing the other day. While the ‘ordeal’ did not give rise to any epiphanies into the secrets of maintaining a relationship, it did give me pause, caused me to reflect a little on the intricacies of male-female relationships.
See the night started off well enough, we were drinking, making merry…they were cosy and sickening-in typical fashion. I was ogling at some body part(s) as usual, letting my mind imagine the possibilities the night perhaps held for me…you know, the simple stuff, and as the night wore on, everyone started to experience the effects. The conversation started, rather continued harmlessly enough. My friend pointed out a girl shaking what her mama gave her (sic) in ways that I’m not sure any mama would approve of, and we both wasted the next few minutes of our lives imagining a world where everything shook like that-vacant expressions on our faces to boot, when this stupor was broken by a very simple question, “Tony, kwani I don’t shake like that?”. Now this is a very loaded question, if you’ve played Russian roulette you may commiserate. Our vacant expressions were soon very occupied. My face probably read “Thank Goodness I don’t have to answer that”, his, in fine print “Oh shit! I could have sworn I was staring out of the corner of my eye”. The question unfortunately just hung there, like the smell of feet in a small, oh so small room; it stung our eyes and made us cringe with our noses pointed to the ceiling. Tony, oh so brave Tony finally stammered an answer, “Babe, hata wewe unajua huwezi shake”…and I can swear I felt my balls retreat into my stomach. This answer hung there too, but no, this was no simple feet odour, the air turned suddenly chilly, windows started to bang and we both, Tony and I folded our arms and pulled up the collars of our coats in terrifying anticipation. Tony had realised too late that he had used his inside voice…outside. “ Ooooh! Si then you go hang with those chics who can shake then…Why are you here with me?…So all this time you work has just been to stare at other women, eh?…”…and they came rapidly these questions, without any regard for grammar or any of the essentials of sentence construction, a woman ‘scorned’ has no time for such petty considerations. I started to back away like I was not even with them, but alas! I was not fast enough. “And YOU! Kazi yako ni kumuonyesha tu matako, eh?…Just because you don’t have a girlfriend you want your boy to be like you?”…and towards the diaphragm they retreated.
My girl was on a roll, and all of a sudden we were on a trip down not-so-good memory lane, rehashing issues thought long gone, long buried and forgotten. Now, the truth is, Angie cannot shake her behind to save her own life. She knows it, Tony knew it, I knew it…the whole darn universe knew it was no secret, but I guess Tony’s mistake was not letting the universe answer the question.
I guess learning the truth is all well and good, you just never want to learn it from the person you want to see you as the very vision of perfection you hope they do. My guess is, even when you are fat, too thin, too short, even if you sing like a frog dying of thirst, even when your cooking smells like feet and tastes just about the same…you never want to hear it from the person you call your partner. You expect them to see the girl or man that you want to believe you are even when you know unequivocally that they are lying, and you are not. And perhaps any admittance by them that you are not is a harsh reminder of your own insecurities and inadequacies…and who wants to be reminded of those, eh?
But perhaps more importantly, the lesson to be learnt is not to grow lazy like me, but get off your ass and change what you feel you need to…or at the very least learn to grow to accept yourself the way you are.
I’m back. Time to grow.