SEX IS FUNNY, LOVE IS SERIOUS.
Two decades I have lived…Two decades mired in struggle, married with unrelenting and repetitive not knowing. Chasing the elusive better tomorrow. Yet I must say, nothing quite scares the living hell out of me like love.
Well, It wasn’t always like that. In the past I loved love. Or the idea of love at least. Two strangers, unwittingly brought together by fate, willingly with tingly sensations losing themselves in each other. Living in a happy place filled with radiant sunshine, beautiful sunsets and starry skies, carried away by breath snatching kisses, goosebumps inducing caresses and hotter than Mombasa at noon love-making.
Turns out the idea my over imaginative head had concerning love couldn’t have been further from the truth. And the truth… it hit me like a ten tonne truck speeding downhill when Zipporah Onsongo broke my heart. I learnt that love wasn’t birthed when you looked at the object of your affections ans she smiled at you. I learnt that love wasn’t all sweet and rosy as the movies would have us believe. I learnt that in reality damsels didn’t go all week in the knee and misty eyed when you told them you love them. And even as smithereens of my ruined heart filled my chest with the pain of a thousand needles. I was dragged down into the dark fathoms of despondency and self loathing. And that’s not the worst part, no. It doesn’t even come close. The worst part is she broke my heart and didn’t even know it. “I love you like a brother.” Was what she said. Words forever etched onto my heart with the vividness of a tattoo.
And like that Love was done with me and I with love. Done and done. Thank you but no thanks. I mean, why can’t we just have sex? No? But why?
Am not saying I haven’t met other fine ladies after the fiasco with Onsongo the heart breaker hereafter referred to as the “heart breaker.” I have and prettier ones at that. Why, Bertha Lauren was romance itself, Lily was the sweetest girl, I haven’t laughed so hard since Diana, Yvonne stole my virginity, Phine was a lesson in kamasutra, Letisha is the fuck of my life, Winnie understood me and Rina loved me. I could go on and on but that’s beside the point. The point being that the forbidden fruit while untested is often the sweetest. “The heart breaker” with all her perfect imperfections held sway over me because I couldn’t have her. But that isn’t to mean all the girls who reject me are of consequence. Far from it. See the mistake I made with “the heart breaker” was that I invested too much time and feelings into the whole debacle. I day dreamed about her, many a night I night dreamed about her as well with the result that I was hopelessly and pathetically infatuated. Thanks to that experience that is something I don’t do anymore. I don’t fixate on girls. They are not worth it in the long run. Let’s just have sex uh?
I want you and I, mature adults that we are, to be honest with each other. There is no need to dissemble. Love is for marriage folk and folk looking to get married. More fool they, for marriage kills love faster than the time it takes for Vera Sidika’s twerking derriere to go viral. The rest of us normal folk shouldn’t dabble in the messy affair that is love. We end up complicating shit, as though shit ain’t complicated enough as it is. Let’s just have sex aye?
Life is full of shit. Most of which are self-inflicted, galvanized and fueled by societal notions and expectations. Sex for sex’s sake, done by two individuals who want to, unencumbered by conditional mannerisms is the only pure thing left. Who said love must come first, show me the rationale which qualifies that ideal. Can’t we just get along, like each other along the way, have sex like two idiots and remember each other fondly?
I for one know that am good in bed. And you look like you could be too…I don’t know…so what’s the big deal. Let’s just get on with it. Do the do and be done.