He was intense.
And yes, people it’s a he again so bear with me. I only write about this gender because I haven’t had a proper encounter with the ladies.
He’d shout I love you from way across the street to me even when everyone was staring. He’d hug me ten times in an hour just because he could. He’d ask to see my face underneath the mask because it made him happy and sometimes, I’d oblige. Other times I’d be blushing like crazy so I wouldn’t. We would talk for hours about nothing really and he would occasionally tuck my hair behind my ear. Or put his arm around me. Sometimes we had those moments when I’d be talking, and I’d catch him just staring at me. He called it gazing at my perfect. Hilarious if you ask me.
He was serious about me, and he said it a lot. He’d tell everyone I was his girl and they bought it because we were constantly together. He wanted to hold hands as we crossed the road. He wanted to see me every day and tell me how he missed me when he couldn’t. Sometimes he’d call just to hear me talk. He would say the dumbest things to make me laugh because apparently, I look prettier when I laugh. Obviously, I’m not disputing that. He wanted me and he wasn’t afraid of saying it. He’d compliment me whenever he could and especially about specific things. Like how cute tiny my hands are or how I tilt my head when I’m listening to people. It amused me how much attention he paid to me.
I swear this guy had me thinking ile bale mpya imecome.
His eyes had this lowkey sparkle when he smiled or when he was excited about something. I loved his eyes. It’s like I wanted to look into his eyes all day but then I had things to do. Lol. Okay, I’ve probably said this before so clearly, I have a thing for beautiful eyes. Plus, with masks on we barely see anything else, so I have stared plenty at his eyes and they captivate me, to say the least.
I had known him for a while now but not like this. Not this supposedly love-struck version of him. I found it hard to believe his intentions because I hadn’t been loved this loudly before. I wasn’t sure it was genuine and from my past experiences, I didn’t want to wait to find out. I’d done a lot of waiting before and my patience was out the door.
I was nervous around him, and he probably didn’t notice because I camouflaged it with being mean. And you’re not allowed to judge me because we all have our defenses and that was mine. I’ll admit that I was scared at the time. I feared being vulnerable with someone again because I was barely a year sober at the time. I say sober because I had been drunk in love before. I had been addicted to someone before and like all addictions, it felt good until it wasn’t.
I told him all that, but he still wouldn’t budge. Apparently, he was intent on having a forever with me. He knew about my past and how I wasn’t ready to be strung along again but he persisted. He’d say he wanted to help get rid of my PTSD from wababa if I was willing to fight it. Honestly, everything he said sounded something like, I could be your hero baby. You know, like that Enrique Iglesias song?
And that was the problem with Mr. Right. He was a big talker. He had a sweet tongue, the kind that says everything you want to hear. Honestly, this boy was king of words of affirmation. They were just words though, matendo ni kama aliachia mitume.
He was inconsistent. I mean yes, we’d talk endlessly but only in the 2-3 business days he’d text or ask to see me. He disappeared from time to time with no communication whatsoever. No offence, but I can’t have someone who acts like he can’t breathe without me one day but then I have to wonder if they’re dead or alive the next two weeks they disappear from the face of the earth. No pun intended. He was like an Instagram story, a one-day affair.
The worst part is that he made promises he couldn’t keep and frankly I don’t see why people feel the need to over-promise then under-deliver when they could have just shut up. Nobody asked you to promise me the world, Harry. Besides, at this point, some of us only have the energy to lean on the promises of God, not man. Especially this man.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m a firm believer in the power of words. (I was going to say power of the tongue, but my friends are reading this, and they will totally misquote me.) Words can be instrumental but only when backed up by effort. When I say make effort, I don’t mean go ridiculously over the top. Obviously, we wouldn’t mind being serenaded in the moonlight or a flash mob in the mall every now and then but hey, we can’t all be Romeo.
By effort, I mean even the tiniest of things like texting back or calling every so often or whatever the babe in question refers to as effort. After all, it’s called the chase for a reason. I do hope you’re taking notes because gentlemen, effort, and consistency always get you the girl. At least this one.