Currently, I am in a distance relationship. A moment of silence there for my strong heart. Between my guy and I, lies the vast carpet of the Atlantic Ocean and its ferocious man-eating crocodiles. Like a normal Christian who tithes faithfully except when I get windfall money (which is all the time), I am greatly tempted to lie that the going has been really great. That God has been faithful and we are going to eat cake soon. But I choose to spare you the agony of having to roll your eyes at my daftness and lies.
I totally understand if the simple thought of a distance relationship makes your skins shrink by a size or two. It does the same to all my friends. (Kebaya, topping this list) Here is the why; distance is crazy. There are days when I am brimming with optimism about this relationship. Days when I actually envision a future with this guy: the three chubby kids who will study in Braeburn, a Range Rover Velar, trips to Maldives and all those things he and I discuss when I am half-drunk with love.
It would be fair to give you a background on the mister. By all standards, my guy is great. I would not describe him as funny or loud because he isn’t. He is rather on the quiet side of life. In Chinua Achebe’s novels, he’d be one of those quiet village elders who speak last before decisions are made. The kind which, everything about their demeanor, gait and personality epitomizes prim up until you meet their over-dramatic wives and rebellious children who water it down.
My guy, unlike me, takes life one day at a time. I on the other hand, I’m a bonafide member of the OCD society, always wanting things to be done in a certain order and time. So your guess is true, I spend most of my days whining about stuff I know too well that I have least or no control over. He is like Nakumatt. I need it, he’s got it. He is just a normal guy but the simple fact that he does not complain about my resolute nature or my sizably small butt, I think he is cool people. You are probably rolling your eyes at my funny insecurities. Just wait until all your friends are jesting about the smallness of your itina, then, you will understand my predicament.
He is the guy I run to when I want to mop about the way no company wants to give me a job in Kenya. Why? Because I already know he will simply massage my ego and tell me that it is because I am probably overqualified. I don’t care how corny that sounds, as long as it cools me off. I will send him a pic of me in with my hair tied in ugly matutas that are standing on my head like medusa together with a few pimples sticking out of my face and he will say ‘damn, you so hot!’ And I will laugh in my room because I . . . we both know the truth. I am not hot at that instant, he is just being supportive. Lol. May God bless all the supportive boyfriends. Amen.
However, the sun doesn’t always give magenta rays. There are days when I simply don’t feel so in love. Days when I struggle so hard not to pull the hairs out of my head because I feel disillusioned, skeptical and even afraid of this relationship. When you are doing distance, your insecurity levels shoot to weird levels altogether no matter how calm and composed you are by nature. You do not know if the person is going to pull the ground from under your feet the next instant. Every time he sends me a pic with his friends, you can’t help but observe, and note any chic who is leaning in too close to him. No bitch is taking over your territory under your watchful eye, ama niaje? (You must be smiling at my stupidity.)
There are days when I meet nice guys. Why am I trying to be modest? Great guys. Guys that would make any of us, even those in serious relationships play with our hair like a giddy teenager. Guys that I deem worthy of my time. . . and any prim girl’s time. And since the devil is a liar, he has always ensured that I bump into them during two occasions. Either when I am feeling very lonely or, when my guy and I are fighting. Hehe, Lucifer sleeps with both his eyes open.
Now to the part that all of you want to hear about. My friends and even family keep asking me how sure I am that he is not cheating on me. That he is not just having me on the hook. Frankly, I am not sure of any of those. Compared to me, he is the more open one and to my knowledge, we are exclusive. You are probably smiling at my naivete here. But hear me out. I could be in love alright, but I know well enough to tag my brain along through this bumpy ride. All those are scenarios that could materialize and much as I live in dread of the day they happen, I have put precautionary measures in place. Yeah, I hate how I made that sound like I am prepared to go to Iraq any minute now.
A few of my friends encourage me on this. They actually believe that it will work out. Either they are staunch believers in that horse shit of fighting for love or they just have read too many romance novels for one lifetime. Either way, on the days I wake up in good moods, I do ride on their faith. Hopefully I can ride on it into the sunset someday.
Some have bluntly accused me of being in this for the money or other benefits that accrue to being his girlfriend. I cannot blame them. That is probably how things look like on the outside. A few keep pressing me to hurry things up and go to the states, the land of the living, as they call it. I chuckle at their ignorance, kwani huku Kenya is a land of carcasses? Wait, 8-4-4 is actually a stinking carcass.
His relatives, you will ask. He has a great family, that is for sure. We seem to get along with the ones that I have met, and for that I thank God. But truthfully, you never lack that one or two who think you just aren’t good enough for their son. And I will not lie to you, that is a topic that comes up for discussion every other time. Look, most of my life, I have lived it with the attitude that if you do not like me, that is your problem. So long as we all stick to our lanes, we will be fine. I came to realize that this tactic may not work out here. In short, I have two choices. Either to live all my life trying to prove to people that I am well worth my boyfriend or to just mind my business and stay happy. Si mnajua ni gani nilipick?
However, as I sit inside this Wendani-bound bus today, none of these thoughts are in my mind. I am not even conscious of the fact that I have a boyfriend.On a normal day, I do not care so much about who sits next to me in the bus. Not unless they look like they could steal from me while I am busy staring out of the window pretending to be a character in some Hollywood movie.
But today, I cannot help but feel curious about this piece of cake seated next to me. Now, it is not my fault that his cologne smells so good, is it? For me, a man with an alluring cologne is a man I can trail to the deepest of abysses. To top it all off, my seatmate here has this face that seems to beckon, ‘Come ye all, women of Jerusalem. Drool with no shame, for what He created was perfect.’ Niskie mtu akisema ati the things of this world will dim and lose their value!
I am sitted next to this piece of art that keeps giving me smoldering stares every few minutes. By smoldering, I mean, for the past 15 minutes I have been fighting the urge to get my lip gloss out and redo my lips. Before you judge me; I am but flesh and bone. That means that I crave for company sometimes like ya’ll. Visible, tangible company. Not video calls or phone calls with the horrible network across the Atlantic Ocean. And Lucifer never slumbers when it comes to tampering the functional bit of my brain.
Eventually, I alight. But just before that, I am keen or silly enough to turn back and smile at him. Why I did that. . . I do not know. But he smiles back. That smile of, ‘girl, you are leaving your future right behind you. Come back to Papa.’. And I resist the urge to go back and ride in this Lopha to the Thika sunset with him. My knight. My mwitu knight in a cashmere hoodie.