Hers was a blithesomely sweet smile that formed delightful dents of delight on her cheeks when she showed it off to the world. A pair of large, lovely eyes and long hair that looked as though it had never known struggle. That hair must have had a life that closely rivals that of the prince of Saudi Arabia. Born, bred and living in pure opulence as the magnificence it radiated clearly testified.
Needless to say, it was impossible to ignore her presence. If you can ignore such beauty, then we need to talk. You will surely save my sorry neck from being snapped by an angry wife someday for being too swift to turn at the sight of a well-crafted piece of art; like she was.
Let’s call her Julie.
I remember the day Julie first walked into my life. The grace in her step, the cute floral dress she was wearing and the feeling she elicited in me. It was the first time I was seeing her but even at first glance, I knew she was special. She was every inch my dream girl! I felt a blood rush. It was like the picture of the angel I had created in my mind had just received a physical manifestation.
I could hear my whole clan whispering in my ear, ‘grab that girl and run with her to your home.’ Only that would appease them. And I am not the type to let my people down. I swung into action and in no time, we were taking long walks together, talking about almost anything under this blue sky and beyond. She was opinionated and had something intelligent to say about almost everything we talked about. And to ice an already tantalizing cake, she appreciated poetry and loved my “way with words”. The heavens had finally had the mercy to bring a perfect being into my life.
This girl. Every time she smiled, I saw a dozen possibilities, if not a hundred and forty-four thousand.
One evening as we were talking while watching the stars -something she loved to do- I turned to her and asked her to transfer the beauty we were beholding on that night, sky decorated by countless stars, into my life by accepting “to be mine”. To date, I remember the look on her face after I said those words. It was something between “are you serious?” and “you idiot. What took you so long?”
For a minute there, I thought she would turn me down but no. Instead, she hugged me tightly, saying she thought that day would never come, as a waterfall of tears streamed down her face freely. Soon, our lips rejoined and parted in what was arguably the sweetest coming together of lips ever and the rest was a man and his new girlfriend exchanging sweet somethings on the platform of young love, with a million stars and a moon as witnesses. It must have appeared like a scene scripted by Aphrodite, the Greek goddess of love with a little help from her Roman counterpart, Venus.
What followed after this was two years of pure bliss, punctuated by episodes ranging from ugly fights to warm makeup hugs and everything in between. But in the end, life happened as it did and the fairy tale came to a screeching halt.
Now, breakups hurt. And they change people’s opinions and outlook on love and relationships. Some become overly promiscuous in a vain attempt to fill the gap left in their hearts, as well as prove to themselves that they are good enough, while others avoid women/men and all that pertains to relationships. Mine was to relationships.
For over two years, I stayed not just alone but actively avoiding anyone I had the misfortune of liking. And being a person who for some reason finds favor in the eyes of ladies, I admit to breaking a few hearts during those two years. Hearts that saw a chance but were met by a genuine yet cold “it’s not you. It’s me” line.
Why this, you may ask? The world today is littered with very many broken hearts. Most of them, broken by other broken hearts that were in the search of arms -any available arms- to embrace their brokenness and give them that all-important but highly destructive ‘you are good enough’ affirmation that every soul yearns for after a breakup. Therefore understand me when I argue that it is highly selfish of anyone to date somebody’s daughter or son knowing well you have not healed properly from yester pains.
Just wait. You won’t die!
Also, if somebody happens to use that ‘I am not ready’ or ‘It’s not you, it’s me’ line on you, it does not always mean that you are being rejected nicely. Ridiculous as it may sound, sometimes it is for the common good of the world. And even you.
This blog post was a guest post by Allan Omache. Don’t we all love his way with words? You should have seen the breath whoosh out of my lungs in absolute wonder after I read this piece from him! Allan is many things; a born again suit-wearer, a prolific writer whose stories would make anyone think this world is actually their home and overall, a life enthusiast. To read the amazing and funny compositions that he shares on daily basis on his wall, follow him through this link:
Not only will you love his tailored suits, but his terrific stories as well!