Dear Future Ex II

That this is a one sided soliloquy is of no contention at this juncture. I almost feel like that guy in a Whatsapp group. Have you ever come across these types of people whose degree of participation in group chats do not match with the acceptance they receive? These are the guys who know everything about every topic that people discuss. They type essays after essays of texts just to rewrite what already exists in Wikipedia. But that is not the analogy am trying to create here. I mean, of late, I have involved myself in a gruesome monologue when I write to you. Like our Whatsapp group member. He types but nobody responds to them. Don’t get me wrong, I am not complaining. I do not desire nor expect you to respond to these letters. The reason I write is to clarify something my future ex. I want you to stop yourself from rolling your eyes when I eventually tell you,

I told you so, my future Ex.

I expect no response because sometimes, someone has to talk while the other listens. An ideal division of labour scenario. And for this reason, I will dive straight into the issue at hand. You see this is not so important an issue as some would say. But what is more vital than that which seeks to offer a panacea for the heart? In our last conversation, I asked you a question, my future ex. I asked what you will do when a push comes to a shove. You have told me to reconsider my reservations. To stop being too uptight about life and open up to new possibilities. But you see, based on my experience, I have said a big NO. I do not wish to take this further. But I have noticed that you are starting to resent me. All over sudden things are thick and the kind of indignation that oozes from every curve in your façade is not only venomous but also does not resonate with my expectations.

I guess this is the point where you ask what I really want.

But here is the thing. I am not very sure of what I want. I am just sure I don’t want this to push through. So, do I have to assure you of the fact that it is not you, it is me? Last time, I told you that there are two main reasons I write to you. Well, it is still within the realms of reason to say that I cannot face you when saying such intricate issues. Some people say I am shy and this is an assertion that I refute with the strongest of terms. But, you my dear ex, have something. Something that even scientists are yet to accord a name. You have those strong eyes that make the skeptical team members of the other side of the table to reconsider their stand regarding a negotiation. It is mind-changing! I have two divergent fears; either the same magic will work on me or a different scenario will occur. An eventuality that kills me even before I start imagining it. I fear your strong eyes could grow pale and feeble right after my full stop. I fear that the bright light will be bent by unrestrainable tears. You will stop seeing or thinking straight. The fear of seeing the other side of you. The weak and vulnerable side. No caring person would wish that for their future Ex.

I care about you!

But wait, there is this thing about your toughness. I cannot differentiate it with hate for men. No, not hate. The word doesn’t describe it accurately. Maybe you look down upon men. Aaagh it’s not that too. I saw how you acted and responded to the interviewing panel that was full of men. Someone else would say it was a drill. Something you have done for a while. Some kind of experience could be spotted. Looking down upon men is not it. Or is it? But why? However, for a keen eye, you look like you always know what you want from a man. Question is. What do you do after you get it? This disturbs me. Sometimes your hashtags also worry me my dear ex. Look at it as a rhetorical query please but I have to ask. What do #bosslady, #independent, #dontneedamaninmylife, #ToysExistForAReason, #ManCanDoWomanCanDoBetter, and #ManyMore, mean? I would imagine they are meant to send a message of exaggerated emancipation of women. But tell me if you do not need a man in your life, then what am I doing here. I should just squeeze this paper between my palms and Kobe Bryant it to the dust bin. Because, as already established by reputable research scientists, writing a letter to deny someone what they don’t actually need is not wastage of time at all. So, there is a lot to say about this hashtag embargo but it will take a lot of time and energy all you need to know is that, future ex, this issue will come up so many times after our honeymoon. And from my corner, I see that it could land me a pass to sleep on the couch! So, I will go straight to the previous letter. But am way ahead of myself as you say.

You probably wonder why I digress much. But there are things that need to be said. I will not mention that day this situation became more complex than it is. I will not mention the fact that you said that the only baba you know is the one who shaves hair at the barber/baba shop in town when we were discussing the prospects of the right honorable.  Because if I say, I would say much. Much much more! But this is not a political letter future Ex. Maybe next time. Just maybe.

So, with or without baba/barber, humans will be humans and humans will want to hit what lying beneath those tight curves. I said your eyes murder my thinking nerves. They inundate my thinking reasoning with ricocheting baseless yet engaging ideas. They are a drug. But that’s not it. I might have omitted some part of the whole story. Don’t call me a liar. We can always say the “eyes” were used as symbols of a bigger, more destructive phenomenon. Your allure. I use this word very carefully lest you claim am being sweet albeit too direct with a combination of disrespect to the womenfolk, Madam #Bosslady.

This is what annoys me the most and I dare ask what you will do when my anger finally manifests into something beastly. That day when you will play with my mind. My emotions. My thought process. My ego. Aaaaagrh you got me again. No one can ever sugar coat things with you. Damn! My testosterone. That day when you will slap my hand at every touch I attempt to complete, that you are in my house notwithstanding. That moment you will tell me that all you wanted to do as you were coming all the way four matatus away was to get to know me better. That very minute you will tell me that you want us to be good friends who can share almost everything under the sun. Again, that no human being can share everything under the sun with a fellow human notwithstanding. But, what do I know? I am talking about that day you will actually propose, between the cold sheets, that people can actually avoid bad temptations and jump the hurdle that paves way to the homestretch. Friendship. But you see, I am not abnormal, or so I will think. Maybe you have met more normal people out there. Maybe your way is the way human beings were designs. Backgrounds are different. I mean some people even grow up in the Congo Forest. You never know what happens there. But away from the dialectics…

Who am I? A beast? Who treads on this miserable earth and does not accept a friendship proposal? Who? I will oblige and let it be. In fact, I will make an effort to reduce my sensual temperatures. I have a fridge then, I will rush and get very cold water, drink it, and hope it rushes straight to the glands concerned. Better still I will grab some ice. The effort will have been for the greater benefit. Flawless friendship.

But a problem will arise! And again I ask, what will you do?

Because, when there is a spontaneous change in a topic, people begin to talk about things like the weather,

What do you think about the weather today? The sun seems to be weak this night. Right friend?

The last part will be more of silent than spoken. It will fade away even before you hear it. But it won’t be sarcastic. Trust you me. In a weird turn of events, you will ask me what could have gone wrong. Why I have changed the subject unexpectedly.

But I will refer you to the latest multidisciplinary, inter-professional report produced during the common sense conference at Chalbi Desert. The report will conclude with the following line;

When a discussion/topic leads to boring or undesired conversations/engagements, it’s advisable, and splendid overall, to continue further with it.

My dear future ex, I will be angry at your that’s-it course of action. Even before letting the dust settle on the action of landing my shaky hands onto the two succulent hills, your artistic turn will confound even further. Making sure the right hand lorry doesn’t leave its parking at the tip of the heating hill, you will turn and look the other way. You will centrifuge your way against this poor man’s groin using your makuyu and kameno and river Honia will still be exposed. A little exposed. The black tights will still hinder revelation. And with every twist and swinging of the waspy hips, Oh dear ex, you will have killed it. Poor blind John will try to make a blind dive but will be hindered by that black net. With every harness felt by the hands at the tip of the flabby hills, John will become more determined and to corrode the net he will! That is when anger will be unleashed. Like a cobra’s, a tongue will slither its way near the ears. It will swerve up and down as it looks for the tiny ponds at the nape. It will grab the drops of sweat quenching the beastly thirsts and the fangs will give a slight but dangerous bite to the ears. The effect will be exhilarating. It will be in Ragabugu World. It will be out of this world. But the anger will still be there! With a resolute resolve to punish, the cobra will eject a calculated venom of a whisper;

So, this is the game uh? Let’s see… And to deMollis will be an understatement.

And as jackets of sweat will cover the bare skin and the tunes of loud large gulps for air will fill the atmosphere, a voice will be heard,

That was ravishing! A beast must reside deep inside you. Damn!

Lord have mercy! I will say

How dare you call another girl’s name?

No no. it is a not-so-common sentence that devastated men use when they have got into obvious trouble.

K.

Sleep will consume the beast. Deep sleep. There is something about this kind of slumber as it comes full force but leaves your ears and senses alert. A bad dream will come my way. It will be so bad and I will struggle my way out of the hellish tether of sleep. I will find myself in a woodland darkened by the canopy that forms way above the humanly heights. The drip of the icy cold rain of the forest, or is it the rainforest rain, will whip and slash my exposed skin repeatedly. The dream will be devastating my future ex. I will be there all alone, as naked as I will be in that broken wreck of a bed. Have you ever seen a man cry? No, you haven’t. Not this kind of cry. Not the kind of cry that comes out when he sees two figures floating within the fog crossing his troubled path. Not this kind. The kind that involves an emaciated lady-like figure covered in what seems to be an agglutination of depleted rags. And the face of the figure will be clearer than any other parts. The second figure will be that of a little girl. Finished by the pangs of the dreamland’s life. Consumed by the hurts of this world. I will see the face contorted in misery as the bigger figure will grab what looks like the smaller figure’s hand. They will float past driven by the chilly wind. My struggle to wake up will finally reach a fruitful threshold. Sad to see that you will still be beside me and glad to feel you wiping my face and whispering the its okays of this world, I will narrate the troublesome nightmare. I will be honest. I will not leave out the fact that the faces in my disturbing reverie will be yours. What will you do, my dear future ex?

But you will be consoling and say it’s just a dream

And that you’re never afraid of being hurt. That you have been broken before. What’s the worst that can happen? You will ask. I accept you the way you are, you will say. That’s when I will realize something;

Finally, someone who is as broken as I am. I will love you instantly. Disaster? No? Yes?

Read part 3 here

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