A girl, and half

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We met back in 2015 in a WhatsApp group for BAKE (Bloggers Association of Kenya). Then, it had an admin who was a stickler for rules, many of which never made sense to me, given that I’m and was used to breaking rules and forming new ones. So I could talk shit the way I liked because people liked it, plus boredom was sinking a deep well in most of us- but due to fear of being removed from such a group with all the famed bloggers, many people had to put with this guy despite his irritating honcho behaviours.

In this world, I have learnt that I don’t have to conform to make it. God has endowed me with so many gifts, including powerful intelligence and ability to read and write. So I talked my mind, and people laughed you know. The admin got incensed a number of times issuing unheeded warnings. He removed me once, and people who felt I was the human they needed to break the ice, petitioned that I become reinstated and added to the group with immediate effect. The tenets were not simpler but I stood no chance of reforming and licking someone by the ass. I was evicted to date.

Aclyne, among others, would then slide into my inbox. Particularly, she told me ‘I’ll follow you to wherever you’re going.’ I doubt that still stands a chance today as she recently got engaged- and stopped tailing me wherever I went. Before her engagement, we could talk. Having random late night chats became prominent for us, but the fact that they were arbitrary and witty made them live and sassy to engage in.

I never thought of her past the chats. Often, I stopped at them and admired her mind. She runs officeglam.co.ke on which she writes on fashion- something she currently refers to as pro-fashional. I visited the blog a few times, to take a gander at her nice photos- they looked human to be looked at, unlike some of us. Her writing was not striking enough for me and I hardly knew where to classify it. It seemed too carefully written, in a manner that suggested uptightness; like she feared to have a crack at anything in her life. That kind of arranged life was too muddled for me- me of the imprudent and lighthearted generation. I wanted to break loose, I’m loose, to turn away from professionalism, etiquette, mannerisms, societal-ly desirable and rules and terms of engagement- rule my own world where people didn’t care about underwear colours or matching clothes; a world where I could say ‘shit!’ and no wide eyes would follow me. Her blog lacked that kind of luster to me…

Many days, I sat at the feet of her blog to admire her photos. It is the same thing I do with things and people. I do things in bounty, for a brief span, to get bored so that I can move on. I’m such a mover- greener pastures are on the other side, alas! I learnt a few things about fashion. Admittedly, it was a woman’s place to learn about fashion- not a man’s. But is there harm in doing so?

There is a way that her lips leave the front teeth that carries me away- those teeth that can kiss a man to sleep. The lips that never close, like they’re always turned on, seducing a man to test the waters. I spent days looking at them, and them glancing back at me. We played that game of looking at each other- one of us might have become bored and tapped out.

 

Don’t those lips look stunning? Look how they leave out those nice teeth.

 

Our kind of relationship cannot be well defined. It had nothing permanent painted on it. It was a friendship that had nowhere specific to perch. It was kind of romantic, hehe. I loved her wits, the one thing that makes me stay around a woman. She was into her masters while I was struggling to finish my undergrad. Does it sound so uncouth? She had jokes, and she understood mine, a level of understanding that puts you on the same page.

I must admit that I enjoy talking with her, chatting to be precise. I have never met her. I don’t know if I want to. On the bigger end, I don’t. I have a bona fide reason. I’ve flirted for over seven years now, learnt most aspects about women and their weak points- I was born and raised by a Casanova. I have stolen women from their husbands, decimated marriages and perfect relationships. What makes you think I cannot steal her, now that she is happily engaged and gloating about it?

Looking from the windows of her hand and photos, she has a touch of class. I have not dug enough to know more about her because it will demolish both of us- she looks too innocent for a mess (plus she is scared of me- moreso what I can do to her life). If you look at her photos, you’ll know she is not the normal slay queen. She smells of maturity and class. Like the rest of the womenfolk, there is also a small girl inside her. The one that makes women do the things they do.

It is this class that puts me in a state of disarray- whether she’s in, or she’s just getting in. I haven’t seen her lows, but I haven’t seen her innermost highs either. She’s like something warm- it might have cooked well and left to cool, or just didn’t cook well enough.

 

As it is a norm, every lady wants her ego massaged. It soothes their ego and elevates their self-esteem. So on this point, I’ll say she’s mature. I don’t think she’d ever blue-ticked me. And she doesn’t pick on issues that make little sense. She has an open mind like her navel suggests, and looks like those glasses she dons sometimes make her tilt her head to acquire the right vision.

Her clothes, the one I’ve seen her in, suggest of someone who has a taste. She’s not afraid of leaving her skin out. If it’s flair why can’t the world see it? I like it when I can see her navel and a bit of the skin around. Taste also comes with her liquor choices. It is her life, let her drink that champagne, and let me drink my milk like a cat.

I have seen and read her liquor tastes. Whether it is endorsement she does or she drinks it, I tend to imagine she knows how to hold her wine glass. ‘Two fingers of whiskey neat please,’ I imagine her telling a bartender at Sevens Bar, ABC Westlands with her eyes peeking through her glasses.

Although she’s not well endowed with ‘fundamendos’ like an African lioness should, she knows what covers her well. I think I’m an ass man. But does it matter when it comes to love-making? It is for you to be comfortable with what you have.

From my imagination, she might around 5’5. Tall and slender like an American model. For a man looking for a perfect package, here it is. I imagine she’s smooth as silk, something you’ll be dying to touch because the temptation is severe. Talking of the brown skin generation, she is simply that. Hamtatesa watoto with too much ‘darkness.’

 

It is recently I contacted her because for long we haven’t talked. I guess earlier I had seen a ring on her finger, only that I forgot which finger it was luxuriating on the sun in. when I saw the ring, and later a photo of what looked like a wedding gown, my little devils told me that she’d got hitched. So there was a break where I only watched her because you don’t want to startle a married woman in her prime of her marriage. Somehow, I was distraught she didn’t tell me shit because I was her ‘friend.’ Friends tell their friends of their achievements so that they can know they’re off the shelves and market.

Months had sipped some espresso and walked by, and I stood looking from behind the slits of the draperies, watching her WhatsApp dps change. Then after my graduation, I told myself, is there any harm to tiptoe to her blog and see what the wedding was like if at all it happened?

I sat in my new keja, and googled office glam. For skilled bloggers, there is a difference between searching officeglam.co.ke and searching office glam. There is a thing that you learn when you search the latter- because Google hinted to me that Aclyne had got engaged. The story stared back at my face.

It was a relief- Engagement, not a wedding. I clicked on the blog and read the story. She openly admitted that she can’t stop thinking about it, that she’ll continue flooding her timeline with this news. The world must know.

I inboxed her on whatsapp- the silence is boring. We talked and I told her she looks like she’s gonna be my new employer. Come on, looks like she’s doing well! If she has masters, she might be an employer. As an undergrad, I needed to tell her that.

This is the job now. Hope she pays good money for it.

Please ensure you pronounce her name correctly, personally, I can’t. Arc-lean, sounds weird, right? It is too rough on the tongue.

Congrats on your engagement, woman.

See more photos

 

Yours,

Mzangila Snr.

Where shall we go, we who wander in this wasteland in search of better selves?

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About Mzangila

Mentor, media consultant, photographer, editor, poet, writer, and counselor.

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