Part 2: The First Time I Saw You
I've always thought you were too good for me, too pretty and too well put together because you seem to have everything figured out while I'm here constantly forgetting where I put my keys. "I'm a mess," placing a hand over my face and you take it down, handing me my keys and phone, "you're my mess," you retort sharply while giving me a soft peck on the lips. A warm smile on your pretty face, the very same smile that convinces me that life isn't that bad, the same smile that raises my spirits when I feel like the roof is caving in on me.
You're staying in to study since you don't have classes today, wearing my t-shirt which looks like a coat on your tiny body, hair in a bun, wearing bum shorts with slippers, smelling like roses.
I've always been baffled by your ability to look so flawless even when you're just in your "lazy clothes" as you call them as well as how beautiful you look even when you're not doing anything, I just want to marvel at you like an art connoisseur in a museum trying to decipher a complex painting on the wall. It may seem ridiculous to other people but to him it's poetry, every brush stroke tells a story, every pimple on your face, every scar, stretchmark, cellulite is like information in a journal that not many can read.
You can be the most articulate man ever but if you can't read your woman's body language and the language of her soul, you're illiterate.
I woke up early to do the dishes and tidy up so you wouldn't have to waste time and I made us coffee, you always say I make the best coffee and I agree.
I quickly dash out with a piece of toast in one hand, it's another day of job hunting and I do this a few times a week, almost every week but after a few unsuccessful months, it's become daunting and seemingly tedious. I graduated a year ago and she's studying full time, we're from two different backgrounds, she's the only child from a middle class family; her mom is a teacher and dad is a dentist. I, on the other hand, never knew my father since he bailed on us shortly after I was born and mom is a domestic worker, I also have a little sister, she's in grade 11.
You offered to take care of the bills while I find my feet, although this was very generous of you, my pride wouldn't let me accept your offer so I work nights as a waiter, using the little I get to (admittedly) massage my ego and fool myself into thinking I'm taking care of you. You know this but still choose to ignore my childishness, "we're in this together babe" you always say, so we go 50/50 on the bills (or so I convince myself). Your allowance alone is a lot more than what I earn, not to mention your bursary advance which pays out a decent amount each month but I pull my weight, working extra shifts so I can help put food and on the table, relationships are about partnership, right? They're more than just two people seeing each other naked and constantly being in each other's space.
A relationship is about compromise, communication and commitment, these three C's have kept our flag flying for years now. I'm still convinced I don't deserve you though, I'm just a regular dude who doesn't have much but you saw past that when we first met over 2 years ago, I was in my second year and you were doing your first.
I remember it like it was yesterday. I was at the library, waiting for my semester test marks for one of my abusive modules, the dreaded Administrative Law. I managed to scrape through with 52% so I was half disappointed, half delighted but when it comes to that module any pass is a good pass really. I thought I should reward (console) myself with a pepper steak pie (the best pie in the world, argue with your butt) and as I was waiting in the queue, you walked past, headed to the russian and chips section. I had never seen such beauty before in my life. You wore reading glasses, had long braids that reached your back, your black leggings caressing the most amazing ass I had ever seen. You were trying to hide it under a white vest paired with white Chucks but it was struggling to be freed. You looked ghetto yet sophisticated and nice but with a face that said "don't bother me, I'm mean".
I didn't know whether to say "good afternoon ma'am" or "eita". The best of both worlds...
What bothered me was the fact that you were light in complexion. Now I've always been weary of light skinned girls, don't judge me for subscribing to the stereotypes because every single light skinned girl I've ever been with has done me wrong in some way but something was different about you.
"Abuti! Abuti!" an irritated voice broke my day-dreaming, "you're holding up the queue"... It was my turn to buy. "Pepper steak, please" barely glancing at the lady, my eyes were still on you, you paid for your food and walked out, it was now or never, my heart was racing... I'm getting closer... I should reach you in 5...What if you didn't want to talk to me? 4... What would I even say to you? 3... This is a terrible idea... 2... What if this pie puts you off? You know varsity girls and the standards they adopt from Twitter and Instagram... 1... I don't want to do this anymore...
"Excuse me"...
