I have loved, a worthy lover!

When love is not madness, it is not love. ~Pedro Calderon de la Barca

I recently bumped into one of my favourite poets from the 19th century (Where?? on the streets stupid) and she defined love in a way I hadn't understood before:

Unless you can think, when the song is done,

No other is soft in the rhythm;

Unless you can feel, when left by One,

That all men else go with him;

Unless you can know, when unpraised by his breath,

That your beauty itself wants proving;

Unless you can swear "For life, for death!" -

Oh, fear to call it loving!

Unless you can muse in a crowd all day

On the absent face that fixed you;

Unless you can love, as the angels may,

With the breadth of heaven betwixt you;

Unless you can dream that his faith is fast,

Through behoving and unbehoving;

Unless you can die when the dream is past -

Oh, never call it loving!

Elizabeth Barrett Browning

This judicious definition took me back 4 months ago when I was so distraught over the loss of a man I had grown to call 'distant-lover'

Within me I search words to describe him by

But all I manage, is to cry

I go about my life as though he never existed

Though deep within, he never exited

I never loved another or 'felt' loved by another

so in sync as; he and I together

I will outgrow this someday, to myself I think

But no denying that I am weak

I will need the universe in its entirety at my aid

For I am and always will be afraid

To love, have, give, only to lose, hurt and pain

Unless it is him, that I fall for again

It is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. With this I am content.

Golf Vs Rugby: Fortuitous Rendezvous II

Seated beside my date; bored to tears watching other people dance, Leo walked into the hostelry alone looking sizzling hot and not to mention lost (without me I like to think). I spotted him immediately, lit up like a fireball from hell and sprung to my feet to make sure I didn’t lose him.

He hadn't spotted me and I wasn’t about to wait for him to find me in the throng of half-clad ladies-of-the-town flinging themselves at him, so I quickly asked to introduce my date to “some guy” (yeah right!!). Alas, they know each other. “Of course they know each other, bloody little neighbourhood!”, I cursed out loud. Expectedly they sat together, displacing me and started to chat the night away like little school boys, meanwhile I couldn't take my eyes off Leo’s brawny build.

My date was an estimable character; a together young man, lucid and if I may add, a teetotaler- exactly the advert I would put up for a hubby and father of my children. Nevertheless, with a body blazing with undisclosed desires; a sturdy rugby player is the only promising fire-fighter in the room not a golfer with his gentle manners and gloves in tow. Sorry golfers, just saying it like it is (forget Tiger Woods, that is on a whole new level).

As time passed the golfer was getting uncomfortable with the explicit banter between us and like the gentleman he is decided to give us some room, excused himself and started towards the gents. I wanted to stop the madness but I couldn’t; I was utterly helpless and Leo was clearly determined to ruin it for me, not that I minded much. Instead of fighting a war I knew I wouldn’t win, I involuntarily resolved to take pleasure in every fraction of every second he was gazing into my eyes, talking to me, smiling with me and being all jealous.

At that point I had moved seats; I was kissing his clean shaven head (half-bald), playfully teasing him as I whispered into his ear. I was enjoying it so much that I didn’t care my date was a little (a lot) pissed and ready to leave. I didn’t care that we might not take our vacation to Egypt as planned and I didn’t care that I would have a lot of explaining to do… ALL I CARED WAS LEO and that he was motioning to me to plant a kiss on his cheek as my date helped me into my coat.

I would have kissed him anywhere and everywhere without his asking, except that was neither the place nor the time. I would have stayed behind and enjoyed the evening some more, but too much of Leo is without a doubt the death of me. I would have let my date leave without me, except for that night he was my date. I would have stayed and put out Leo’s fire, but my house was an inferno.

I couldn’t have let my date drive me home because he would have asked what that was about and I am sure I wouldn’t have had the correct answers for him. I needed to demystify it to myself first. It goes without saying; I had to get myself a cab, that way I would drive quietly, relive the night with Leo and his evil charm.

If ever there was a passion of my life, this would be the chap. I would never get married to him though, even if he proposed on a romantic candle-lit dinner in tight rugby shorts on a spacecraft, for the simple reason that we would kill each other in passions untold HA!

...or is that what I like to think?

To be continued.

LEONARDO: Fortuitous Rendezvous I

Forgive me reader for I have sinned, I have hidden an important element from you for quite some time now and if I don’t confess, it will kill me. Why did I hide it? Because I thought it was special, but then again some special seeming things turn out to be fiendishly attractive, special complications.

Sooo Leonardo and I met… not once, not twice but thrice since the last time I talked about him. Before you rush me to the gallows, let me explain: we didn’t plan it, the universe did HA! You know me, I go with the flow, I don’t plan a thing, I hardly think with my head; my notorious heart decides and does on my behalf, I could be in bed one minute and my heart would be in Lokichogio falling in-love fast with a stranger.

No, Leonardo is not in Loki and the reason I haven’t updated my blog is not because I have been busy moving to Loki. But so what if I moved? Ok, ok I hear you, enough beating around the bush:

I bumped into the guy at Sherlock’s Den -Nanyuki Mall.

2. He has a girlfriend

3. We had a series of unusually stimulating gazes and there was a lot of unnecessary touching with our hands (ON the table where everyone could see them.)

4. There were a lot of laughs as the drinks kept coming.

5. We were TIPSY (Totally Inebriated Plus Seriously in Yen) albeit sufficiently sober to keep our lips off each other. Whether we were trying to fool the curious onlookers or we were genuinely fighting temptation is however unclear.

6. We were waiting for our guys to arrive; his girlfriend (funny he didn’t feel the need to brag about her) and my golfer/ photographer well-behaved friend and mentor who has wanted to chips-funga me since Red cross-Meru back in 2009.

7. We discussed motorbikes (as expected) and I was mortified for the lies I had told at our first meeting… Yep I confessed, why? Because I’m not a –good- liar and I thought this would be special, who isn’t attracted to an honest gorgeous lass. Did I mention we have trust issues? I am mentioning now, serious ones.

8. He gave me his number this time (and I had nothing to do with it-a block of TRUST built right there.)

9. He never called… or maybe he did, but it never went through because I don’t live in Loki and Loki has fickle signal. (This is what I like to think. Why? Because I sorta want to believe there is something here.)

10. I never called… but once, with a hidden ID (Lame!! I know) I wanted to wish him a Happy New Year, he didn’t pick, phewks!

Things stayed that way and I gave up on us, completely forgot the jamaa and even dated other people. Months later…

To be continued in Part II of this series.

My clandestine Valentine

All I am saying at this stage is… there was a side-splitting play, lots of wine, a splendid sunset, floating away on a pond, great lighting, lots of small talk, a bit of walking, great art gallery with beautiful pieces to boot and right where I couldn't pronounce ‘silhouette’ was a straight out of the movie shut-up-and-kiss-me moment… whether it happened or not, is however irrelevant.

Now let’s jump to the after effects; I woke up the following morning to soundless music, the coffee mugs dancing on the shelves, pancakes swaying their hips on the pan and “um… um is my coffee SPEAKING to me?” Funny thing is, there was nothing telling in the silky morning air, but love was definitely laced on the sun rays piercing through the leaves of the enormous fig tree outside my kitchen window. As the warmth hit and spread throughout my face, I couldn’t ignore the images in the azure sky partially in hiding, images of a seraph thrilled by the sound of the Nyatiti playing “My moving home” in a dialect I couldn’t comprehend. The hilarity brought about by the costume-clad chaps under the bright lights of the stage tickled the Seraph much to my amusement and I never had such a lovely time watching a stranger laugh so hard, never.

This being is, easily the most fine-looking thing I have cast my eyes on in a long time, their laugh so gentle, stature so elegant, impeccable eloquence, exudes positive energy from every pore on their skin… incredibly erudite and did I mention that they look not a day older than 27 years but is as wise as a sage and as composed as a harp haha! (he is so beyond fine that I not only need the Englishmen to sit and create me an adjective for this person but also for Shakespeare to resurrect chap-chap for we have work to do!).

Unable to withstand the intensity and the blinding glow of the moment I turn away and smile with my heart albeit not furtive enough to cheat the woman in the kitchen busy brewing the coffee. Both the woman and the kettle are wearing a knowing smile, I can see their faces, the mischief, their asking lips twisted into a question that I am not ready to answer, no I will not dare say a word. For I have not the response. At this point, I take a swig of the dark fluid sitting motionless in my cup and resist the swallow if only to keep the secrets of the magic of the previous night from spilling.

Walking out hurriedly, index finger wagging behind me the woman in the kitchen is caught in a stutter “…I was just going to ask if you want some cream with that,” she lies out loud supporting her weight with the door frame. I can tell she is genuinely happy for me; she can’t thank heavens enough that I 'finally' healed the wounds of a disappointing and daunting past. She is holding back the excitement lest I slip back into the morbid habits of video games, slothfulness and suicidal imbibing. She blows me a warm kiss, full of a mother's affection , still I'm not telling.

The couch holds out its warm loving arms to receive my bony frame, he has been with me through the dark days of nursing a broken strange-muscle and I can tell he is over the moon that I didn’t walk in with a slab of cheese, a box of Kleenex and a bag of cheerios. The way he sinks back as my buttocks find a comfortable spot sounds more like a sigh of relief than anything else, I pat him gently and whisper, “It’s over buddy. The days of grief I mean.” I could swear I heard a muffled chuckle.

Ladies and gentlemen, I have got to stop right this minute before I jinx this any further and also because I need to pencil in lunch for coming weekend.

That would be all :-).

X-mass Attack!!

The typical me starts feeling X-massy in September, by October I have saved and shopped for gifts, by November whatever bookings that needed to be made have been made, recipes have been downloaded/ stolen, invites to partners in crime have been sent and mum has been briefed of my itinerary. Leaving nothing to chance, everything is set and ready to roll by 20th. That is how much I love X-mass.

That is why yesterday I was panicked and caught in a frenzy decided to call Santa... because I had a feeling, Daddey had dumped me. Okay, it was 21st of December and NOTHING was ready, I wasn't even ready; I definitely needed extension of time to patch things up and get my X-mass mojo back. See, I haven't been exceptionally good and I expected nothing less from Santa... clearly I had underestimated.

Me: ...ex-communication, really?? Santa, you have gone too far. Don't you think you are overreacting?

Santa: No No No!

Me: Even a little?

Santa: No No NO

Me: C'mon dude... could I have been worse than Lynne who kicked Jimmi out of her bed coz he was undergoing some post-traumatic stress you-know-where after they terminated his contract at work? or YY who has been having sex like a man? or Jumwa who is explicitly living and sexing 3 younger dudes in the name of sub-letting her bedrooms. C'mon sexy Santa, re-consider.

Santa: No No No

Me: You know what, you are a selfish imbecile and an overgrown baby in red diapers. If you are going to punish me for spinning out of control every weekend, with Mr.Alcohol and my life companion, then go ahead. But remember I am the one who never gave in to Mr. I-will-dump-my-girlfriend-as-soon-as-I-sleep-with-you, and I am still the one who (eventually) regained self restraint after flashing boobies on Skype a couple of times...

Santa: A couple????!!! Those were over **** times!! As far as I'm concerned it was a fully fledged scandalous affair with no limits whatsoever...

Me: Ok paps, lets not go into details... oh and never mind I was the one who got dropped from cloud-9 just when I was about to man-up and finally tell Funny boy how I actually felt.

Santa: Oh shut up!! You coward you... you were never going to and you know it.

Me: As I was saying, I am also a great albeit silent supporter of NO TO HOMO.... PHOBIA campaigns because I believe in ALL Human rights, and may I take this opportunity to say 'Good Job' to Muthoni Wanyeki the Executive Director KHCR and Esther Murugi, Special Programmes Minister for boldly stepping out to protect the rights of the minority. Forget my ulterior motive, at least Benjy and his boyfriend will (hopefully soon) comfortably kiss in the swimming pool and I can finally OPENLY brag about our shopping sprees...

Santa: Yeah yeah but whats in for me?

Me: um um... I will share their steamy fantasies with you Daddey :-)

Santa: Ho ho ho Brilliant! Not enough though, you need to commit at least 3 random acts of kindness before sun down if you want to have a proper X-mass.

Me: C'mon daddey...

Santa: No other way.

Me: DEAL!!

That is how I woke up with an X-mass attack, in high spirits, took a looooong shower (read extra 10 litres down the drain), helped eat (Not cook) pancakes and found myself being very kind to 3 beautiful girls who needed my help + I ordered lunch for me and the rabid HOT plumber. Talk of hitting three birds and a bonus with one stone! Seeing as the bible is very clear on; "let not the right hand know what the left does.." I am forbidden to narrate my acts of kindness, in other news though- Lunch was pepper Haat *wink*.

This festive season commit all sins, and most importantly commit a few random acts of kindness.

Merry X-mass to you and yours!!

PS: Remember, don't drink and drive accidents kill and don't drink and park accidents cause babies... just hail a cab :)

Nundies and Braless.

Since you ReAly want to know, i will tell you why i am not wearing any underwear tomollow ;).

So I was driving down the other day and picked up a hitchhiker, isn't that what you do when driving on a deserted road? at least in this part of the world it is. We would have driven on quietly like proper strangers, not disturbing each others peace but no, his chatty drunken mouth wouldn't let him. I didn't mind (much) coz i knew my tyres weren't so good and was sure as hell i would get a puncture. In the event that that happened i would need a pair of masculine arms to handle the jack (and what is that other stuff you need to fix a burst *starts to google*)

Half way and a very heated convo later (you know how it is when one party has imbibed a little too freely ) one thing led to another... it rained, my car got stuck and the possibility of spending the night in the bushes was imminent . The guy being a good samaritan (as they all are, until they are not ) helped to push but later demanded payment for services offered (??)

Now, 'scratch my back and i will scratch yours' is when you push a car that had given you a FREE ride and which is to later get you to your destination aka FARE, its there in the dictionary, look it up... next to Fcuk you. See when i refused to buy chai the pea-brained bushman decided to pay himself with my hard earned mbesha which he thought he'd get access to by stealing my shoulder bag, only my wallet wasn't there. Instead bugger got away with all my newly aquired under garments.

And that is the heartrending tale of how, after throwing out the tattered rags, I now have no knickers until the next time I see a shop (several days I'm afraid).

PS: Be wary of muggers eyeing your underwears this weekend. Deuces.

The party that was.

That I only write about boys in this Blog is false and doesn’t paint me fairly, I mean, I am not boy-crazy and its not like I don’t have any girlfriends. Ok, that is not entirely true; I am boy crazy, which is a little odd for my age –but I like to think of it as a phase that I sort of skipped in my teens :). Then I was too busy hating men and was obsessed with motorbikes, salsa and had just discovered HELLO magazine which left me zilch time for the lads.

So I had a farewell party to attend and was wondering, who to take with? Normally the usual suspects would make do but this outfit has become too small and needs re-designing and a bit of colour. The usual suspects are basically the girlfriends whose bad manners I have grown to tolerate and because I was allowed only +3 this is how I decided who to take.

Martin; my not so secret admirer was feeling a little below the weather, so a little crowd to cheer the bloke sounded like a plan. Since my dreams of joining the jet-flying forces crashed and burned I feel fulfilled hanging around pilots. In the past I have entertained the idea of aviation until the inseparability of physics and aeronautics became apparent. Damn you Mr. Rono for making the subject so incredibly hard to grasp. All I remember was this teacher’s rotting chest skin that oozed puss… where were we?

Neema; I had met her the other day through a mutual friend and she seemed like a ball of fun. She is charming, blessed with the gift of the gab, makes jeans, boots and checkered shirts look stylish, and boy the husky voice- mama mia I want to know this woman. That she curses worse than a sailor and smokes a train is tolerable.
The only other jeans-boots wearing woman I want in my circle would be Dr. Manji, the coolest researcher I ever met and as soon as I upgrade my status in academia I will invite her for coffee and intelligent chat about the endangered Patas monkey.

Samantha was out largely because these days she is Sam&Ocampo. Never alone. I actually enjoyed their company until I didn’t. Ocampo the fiancé is hitting on me. It started out as a funny joke then his groping hands found my bum; yes some men are just gross. I have no intentions of telling her so don’t even go there. Experience has taught me different, things like these backfire on the victim and I don’t play ‘my word against yours’ his words. I’ll figure something out before they walk the aisle, I hope.

Mirror mirror on the wall who is the fairest of them all? Jamie! She is the ultimate boy magnet without a doubt, so beautiful and funny that our table often flocks with men of all tastes, shapes and sizes much to my delectation: I always land one of her cute rejects. Don't give me that look? Don’t you already know how I suck at getting me a decent man?
Anyhoo Jamie couldn’t make it for she needed the kind of TLC only the beau can provide, it had been a looong Ramadhan.

Lastly, every pathological social climber needs a Serena a.k.a the directory of the Rich and Famous. Anyone interesting I want to meet she almost always has their contacts and thanks to her invites I have thoroughly enjoy hobnobbing with the who-is-who and glad to report that my social life is so vibrant its bad. To return the favour I invite her to my usually far apart drab gatherings which surprisingly she loves because she can take a break from toxic make-ups, speak imperfect English and carouse to the ground.

It was a wonderful send off for our friend until I absentmindedly agreed to go for Rumba night with the gang, NEVER again. Two songs and I was ready to blow my brains out. But in an interesting twist of fate I run into Funny-boy… great company. I haven’t quite established what he feels for me and I’m not sure I want to find out, just yet. Comes as surprise even to me that I should be the cautious one.

PS: For the damn bunnies that read this page: I haven’t altered the names and events herein. This is a recount of my life as it were :)