It has been ages since I wrote a piece on this blog. Actually my New Year resolution was to consistently write at least one post each month, if only to rejuvenate my soul. Well, so much for resolutions!
A lot has really happened since the last time I wrote. For starters I got a job. Interesting I first thought. But each coming day makes me question the whole essence. This should make a new post. I am not unhappy; on the contrary I am quite OK. But just that OK.
Here is the real deal.
I got a girl…. She was, and still is, beautiful. She had this smile that would always make me go limb in my knees. She had a killer body, with a fine posterior to boot. Oh, and she loved pink. I do wear pink, gentlemen do pink!
For the few moments I was with her I thought, actually believed that true love exists, it isn’t just a magazine. We could chat hours on end, text our sore fingers away, tweet with reckless abandon and whatnots. I was happy. She was too. I could tell from her smile, a permanent fixture in her face.
I invited her to my house one day. We made love that night, rainy it was. Those who know me know how touchy I am with the rain. My creative power comes alive with the showers. I am after all a Pisces! That evening was like no other. It was pure magic crafted with the divine hands of God. For those who believe in Greek mythology, it was when cupid and Eros met and created a masterpiece.
I was happy.
One particular weekend, I go home to visit my folks. It had been a while, two weeks actually and I was dying to see my mum. When I am home I always do three things only: eat, watch TV and sleep.
I was asleep this time when my phone vibrates. Due to the nature of my work, my phone is always on vibration. Now I have this ritual with my phone that guides our absolutely lovely relationship. When it vibrates, like this time, I wait to see if it’s more than two vibrations. If it is, that’s a call. I pick. If it is only two, it’s a text. Now, when am half asleep, like I was on that Saturday afternoon, I never respond to text messages. Never! So I decide I will deal with it later. I tossed, put my hands between my curled legs and sleep.
My sister wakes me up at a little past seven. Its dinner time, she says. I jump out of bed and head into the living room in time to see Musalia Mudavadi in some campaign rally in Isiolo. I make a mental note to contact his campaign secretariat. He needs a speech writer ASAP.
During dinner, I remember the text message from earlier in the evening and I decide to read it. It was from her, the beautiful girl.
“Je suis enceinte” she wrote.
Well, for those who know French would know the meaning and would be probably smiling now. But for the rest of humanity she meant: “I am pregnant.” I know. I remember reading a blog somewhere that of the top ten things men fear to hear from their girlfriends, this was number five. Below “Let’s get married” and above “There is something I wanna tell you”.
I was still numb from sleep so I responded as coolly as possible.
“Wow, that’s good news, right?”
“Really?” She texted back
The texts went back and forth but four hours later, I was confused as a baby in a topless bar. I sure as hell didn’t want kids, at least not now, but then again I am a gentleman. I never shy away from responsibility. Responsibility and I have been lovers since forever. No kidding.
That was two months ago.
In between nothing much happened. We never spoke about it again. Actually we never spoke again. I decided to let things fall into place. I think it was Desiderata who said, “the universe unfolds as it should.”
Let’s wait for the bump, I told myself every morning.
Yesterday night I find myself with time on my hands and I text her.
“Hey, too quiet”
“Seriously? It is you who went quite after the French thing.”
“I didn’t go under, I was confused” I replied
“…confused about what? I was just trying my French and the word came to mind”
I felt like a fool. I still feel like a fool. I am a fool. She was trying her French on me. Of all possible French words, she thought it wise to use that! But I wasn’t angry, I felt stupid and foolish.
I was afraid. Who isn’t anyway?
Here I had a perfectly good relationship, that had the obvious ability to transform into something meaningful and I screwed it up because I was scared. I was afraid.
In the movie Midnight in Paris, there is an episode where Gill, an aspiring writer is riding in the carriage with Hemingway, the famous writer. Out of the blue, Hemingway asks,”Have you ever made love to a truly beautiful woman? When you make love to her you feel true and beautiful passion. And for at least that moment you lose your fear. A love that is true and real creates a respite from fear. All cowardice comes from not loving or not loving well which is the same thing.”
I have just finished watching the movie a third time. I know, it’s lame but I am a sucker for flicks set in the medieval. The English at the time is fascinating to hear. That’s why I love Sheldon Cooper, the Physicist, in the sitcom Big Bang Theory.
I never believe in second chances so this isn’t about an apology to the girl I liked. No, it is something more serious, something more important. Worth blogging about.
This morning while flipping through my diary I came across an entry I had made on the 1st of May. It had to do with a conference I was applying to and I had marked down the deadline for the submission of abstracts.1st July it was. Obviously I had missed the deadline and for no apparent reason. I had not been busy as to forget the date. I had not been out of reach as to assume complacency. I always wrote down stuff in my diary and constantly reviewed it. My computer screen is a litany of sticky notes reminding me of what to do. How could I forget such an important thing?
To further complicate matters, I was supposed to volunteer at the conference secretariat. I feared the coordinator would view me as a fraud. How could I not keep my word? I sent her, Prof. Kamaara was the name, an email, explaining my predicament and asking if I could send my abstract. She replied. Three minutes later. Of course I could send my abstract. Wasn’t I part of the organizing committee?
I was relieved of course. I hurriedly drafted a 300 word abstract; after all I had all the materials I could need for the paper. I sent it and immediately she acknowledged receipt.
See you at the first meeting, Prof. said.
I couldn’t wait.
Below the conference entry on my diary were the words; May the bridges I burn light the way!
May the bridges I burn light the way!
I could not remember where I read that from and I had no idea why it was on my diary. I brushed the thought aside and continued with the day’s work.
This afternoon while having lunch the thought abruptly interrupted my reverie.
The words: may the bridges I burn light the way!
I was having lunch with my buddy Gilbert while watching the news on TV. Something about Miguna Miguna fleeing to Canada. This man, Miguna Miguna! Anyways! The line got me thinking. A lot. I know that there are bridges that I have burned. There are people that will line up from here to Siberia to tell you that.
Would these bridges that I have burned light my way?
Would I use my past mistakes, past failures and blunders to rebuild my life? Would I be willing to accept that there are relationships that I can never recover and use this as a lesson for the future?
This is where the story of the beautiful girl actually lies. I know that I cannot recover that relationship that we had. I was afraid, I botched it up and chances are I might be afraid again. I burned that bridge! Would this burnt bridge light my way? Or would it consume me midstream?
My prayer is: may the bridges I have burned light the way!