Dear Future Ex I

Hi there.

I hope this finds you well.

 I know its been a while since our last correspondence.

I call it a correspondence for lack of a better word because the last and only time we used audible words to communicate. I cant recall. I am not saying that stolen glances and eerie suggestive smiles are not ways to convey messages. You know what I mean. So, how have you been? How is life taking you? I heard you got the job! Congratulations. Welcome to your new office. Apparently I still think chasing after this gig would not turn out fruitful for you. but here you are. Mahn! These people cannot make sober judgments when they see a non-blemished cleavage acting as a sign post written,

HIRE ME!

Look, don’t get me wrong. I am aware that you are not in a position to have small talk with me right now. In addition to the smiles that have, honestly, dismembered my composure on several occasions. The exaggerated swings of hips. The increased need to pass in front of me whenever we are in the office together. The whole demeanor of solicitude that seems to automatically manifest between us has contributed to the materialization of this letter. However, I have noticed, my dear, that the smiles have slowly turned into grudging grimaces and the discussions have become more official in nature. I can see you looking at me through the glass partition. It is not a friendly look. You are slowly hating me. Do you hear my keyboard barking back at my typing fingers? Do you see me trying hard to fathom and conjure all the love vocabularies that my ancestors can send me right now? Please tell me you see the effort I am making. Why do I write to you while I can just walk across the room and talk to you? You wonder.

Some things in this world. They just make no sense. But they are the things we do more often!

Well, I can’t stand your eyes! There is something about them that makes all enzymes and hormones to begin a war. Normally, I wouldn’t say this to anyone. But I have to. I can see that your feelings, when mathematically extrapolated on an emotional quadrat, will reach an uncontrollable scale of hate. You see, i wouldn’t want you to loathe me. 1. Your cleavage 2. I love to write delicate things

Talking about writing. I have had the record longest block among writers in the north of Limpopo and South of Sahara. As I whiled away this panicky time, the word ex kept taxying through my mind. Btw, have you ever thought of a word so frequently that it loses meaning in the process? Take for example the “Ex”. Like the typical anatomist, I dissected it. Wondering why it has only two letters. Inquiring of the thoughts that ran through the mind of the person who came up with it. Curious about the possibility that the person who came up with “examination” is the same ass hole who fabricated a truncation to bring forth Ex. And if not, why not any other word. There are so many options out there trust me. Something like “Abrikipapa-boyfriend”, abujubuju-girlfriend, ginene, gichacha, ekesagandusi, mathinato, eksi… see, many many other options.

He chose Ex.

But every time I thought about it, you came to my mind. Strange right?

Confession. I really like you. But I cannot take it further. No. You are strong-willed and extremely optimistic. Am sure you will tell me that every concern or fear I have is half solved when I share with you. You will tell me that my refusal is kinda rush and devoid of sufficient consideration. Aki I don’t mean to be impertinent but I can categorically say that you are the clueless party here. You want us to take the chance. Skip the hurdles as we get to them. Wade through the murky swamp of love. Find a solution for every problem. Including the ones which were too complicated for our hide-adorning forefathers. We anyisie. Reke gweree (lolest). Let me tell you, there is no sadder sight than a clueless optimist. I know you will strongly challenge my assertions. Then, and only then, should you answer this question my future Ex!

What will you do!

There is this day that we will spend in the house. The whole day… Like twenty four hours. The weather will be a catalyst to our cuddling. My pretty much animalistic response to stimuli will tell me that this is not a body warming only affair. I will start to do to your lower back what I usually do to my guitar. Strum it with great dexterity. With every stroke of my imaginary plectrum journeying through the nerve strings of your back, you will become hotter. And hotter. Much hotter.

Unbearably hotter, my future Ex.

You will catch my index finger and strongly break the pattern of the strumming. The rhythm will be lost and your will spew a shaking crescendo of a whole new song. It will be incongruent to the anticipations of my ears but, all the same, I will listen to the lyrics.

“Look, Jack (or is it jerk?). I just came here to spend some time and get to know you better,” And yes, I will listen. I will hear you and I will loosen my grip on you. I will stop the caressing. I will start thinking about what I am doing and why I am doing it. Cuddling instead of getting or chasing the paper. “getting to know you” instead of signing thousand-dollar contracts and knowing my clients better. It’s the number one in customer relations 101, by the way. You know. I would be thinking that Nairobi has become such a good place of late; A city where men and women just lie there thinking and knowing each other and spending time. So, I will be thinking this shouldn’t be happening.

And with every thought, the hardness that was poking through your transparent tights, will diminish at the pace of every heartbeat. You will be surprised that am surprised that you are surprised. “Something wrong?” you will ask as you tingle my chest with pseudo-scratches using your long nails. I will shake my head and wag my tongue behind syllables like, “no, nothing at all.” But you will surprise me further. You will take my idle hands and, like a pilot, land them on the two bumps firmly pillered on your chest. I will oblige. My bad! But I will be distraught and angry at your degree of insolence for playing with my emotions like a ping pong ball! I will want to punish you for that. And that is when it will begin….

What will you do?

Yours in truth and honestly,

An unwilling future Ex

Please follow and like us:
188

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Enjoy this blog? Please spread the word :)

RSS
Follow by Email188
Facebook
Google+
http://theeastafricanlifestyle.com/dear-future-ex-i">
INSTAGRAM607
%d bloggers like this: