Like a moth to a flame, she is drawn. His careless handling of her heart and his nonchalant ways with her only fueling her desire. He does nothing to deserve it. Regardless, she finds herself plagued with thoughts of him. She imagines him between her legs, worshiping her. She feels him inside her. She feels his lips on her own. She feels his fingers on her skin. She feels his breath on her neck. She feels his eyes on her body. She feels the power of his presence on the tips of her fingers. Her hair pays homage to thoughts of him. Her whole being is tied to him. All he has to do glance in her general direction.

She sees in every other man’s face. She has no regard for anyone but him. He is her kryptonite. He is the one person who hold the power to destroy her utterly and completely. A power that he uses often with the slightest provocation. She wishes he would look at her. She wishes he would see her. She wishes he would see her heart and touch her even for a brief moment. She wishes she could have a fraction of that effect on him. Life does not work like that though, does it. She will want him but he will want anyone else but her. She will follow him but he will easily and callously walk away from her. She will chase anyone who shows the slightest promise of filling that hole for her.

Such is the life of a woman who loves but is not loved back. Her life is nothing but fantasies of the object of her affection. There is no remedy. She could get under anyone and go anywhere, but like smelly feet thoughts of this one man will fill her brain. She will be powerless to his non-charm. She will drop everything for a ‘Hi’. She exists as a broken hearted girl, she might never recover. Only a few lucky ones are lucky enough to.

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Twinkle in your Eye

He had been watching her from afar all evening. The way her body moved was a marvel. He could tell she was a force to reckon with. She was formidable. She was young but with a spark wisdom in her eyes. Her giggle was melodious. He could hear it all the way across the bar. It was the only thing he could hear. Her face was expressive. She was a thing of beauty. She was not pretty although she was. She was not hot, but she absolutely was. Quite smokin. She was simply beautiful. The kind of beauty that stays with you for days. The kind of beauty that remains etched in your brain despite your best attempts to get over it.
As the night wore on, he decided he would approach her. She was never leaving her table though. She would not stop dancing. How much energy can one woman have? She was plump so it is expected that she tires quick but not this woman. This woman went at it. dancing like no one was watching. Everyone was. She was enjoying herself. She thwarted all efforts from men to dance with her. To be in her presence. She rejected drinks. She wanted to have fun. Enjoy herself. Be with her girls. She could not care less for all these men who were having  a HARD time being oblivious or indifferent.
She finally took a break and went outside. She was standing there under the drizzle with her arms open. He soaked in the sight. There had never been a more perfect picture. He could be happy watching her get soaked by the mild rain for the rest of his life. It was not sexual…okay may it was a little bit. He could be happy just observing her. Then she turned and saw him. A smile danced on her lips. Her eyes ran down his body then back up to his face. She looked into his eyes. Right there in that moment, he felt his heart constrict. He forgot to breathe. She was breathtaking. She was the very embodiment of beauty. Everything about her slightly imperfect hairline was perfect in his eyes. He wanted to live in that moment. She gave him an imperceptible nod then moved to walk back into the club. He knew, this was it or she would be gone. She was a gift. Gifts like that almost never come back around.
“Hi. You are beautiful. I have to leave in a bit but give me your number.”
“I misplaced my phone earlier so until the next time you watch me get some air like a creep…”
“Okay. Do not move.”
He walked to his car and got the phone his wife did not know about.
“Take this. I will call you on it tomorrow.
Then he left hoping to God she would run after him or at least pick up when he called. He sat in his car for a beat willing her to walk out to the parking lot. Then because sometimes the stars align in your favour, she did. He let her look for a minute. They talked and laughed for two hours after that. He should have been home five hours earlier but she was worth whatever flak he might suffer.
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Privileged Plight

She gets home tired with aching limbs. She can barely lift her arms to carry her son. As he is standing their with his arms raised expecting to be lifted, she gathers the strength to pick him up. He is the reason she feels the need to work so hard. This baby must have options in life. He must be well taken care of. His needs come before hers.

It is late. One hour before the baby has to sleep. She has to quickly give him a bath or he will go to bed unwashed. With the last bit sof energy, she performs her duty. Before she is done dressing him, he falls asleep. She holds him through the night as he sleeps. She cannot bear the thought of letting him go. Thi sis the only way she has left to love her son.

She wakes up the next morning twenty minutes later than she is supposed to, she was too tired. Her arms ache. Her back is sore. She struggles to prepare the baby’s food for the day but has to leave half way. The nanny wil do the rest. She absolutely hates this. She was hoping to atleats be a mother who cooks for her child everyday. He may not see her but at least he will taste her love. The morning rushes by so fast that she barely has a moment to hug her child good bye.

He does not flinch, he is used to it. He is more accustomed to spending time with the nanny now that he prefers her. She knows his first words and his favorite foods. She knows how to calm him down and communicate with him. He sleeps better in her arms. Even when she is home, he prefers to sit with her. When she leaves on her offday, he goes hungry and is fussy all day.

This is the life of a single working mom. She is on a constant race to spend a few quality minutes with her son. As she holds him with his little eyes shut to her worries and pain, she wishes she had more time in the day to work and play with him. Without the job, the baby will go hungry. So she pleads with her God to forgive her for not making time to nurture the gift he gave her.

Being a working mom is hard. It is especially hard if one is a single working mom. You constantly wish you had more hours in the day. More hours to respond to one more client. More hours to get home early and have dinner with the baby. More time to have a longer evening bath. More time to relax.

You wish you could take the day off or resign to be with the baby. Then you realise that if you did, you would both go hungry and be homeless. It is a struggle. Choosing between providing for material needs or the abstract ones.

We all just want to be good mothers. For our children to be happy and have a good childhood. For our sons and daughters to hit their milestones on time and never ever cry. This is rarely the case. Your child misbehaves in public but you cannot do anything about it because you do not really know how to tame him.

All mothers deserve kudos. Motherhood is not for the fainthearted. With motherhood, sleep becomes a rumor. Quiet moments fade into inexistence. Nothing is done in a comfortable pace anymore.

This should not be mistaken for a complaint. There is no mother on earth who would trade their child for sleep. No one would go back to the days before motherhood so hey can party into the wee hors. Motherhood is a privilege. It is an honor. It is a gift.


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You and you lose. You grieve and get over it. Meet new people, the cycle starts all over again. However, a time comes when a person takes your self with them when they leave your life. They strip you of your character and essence. You lose sight of who you are. You become a shell of who you used to be. You feel your way through the dark. Struggling to find some direction so that you can start to rebuild your life. But, the darkness engulfs you.

All you have is the sound of your own broken heart to remind of the choice you made to trust someone who would eventually break your heart with no regard for you whatsoever. It is slow and tired. It is begging you to let it rest. Your soul is worn out. Your body is physically broken down. Your smile is a mask that constantly threatens to slip off. Your laughter is loud and fake. Your optimism is a comfort for others.

You become a whole new person. A pitiful person. The kind of person you used to look down on. You become down-trodden. Only, you have been trodden by your own feet as they run after a person who does not care enough to take one last glimpse before they disappear.

Some people come into our lives and fill them with light. Human beings can be so busy trying to do life that they forget how to enjoy life. Until this one person bursts in and inspires a song of joy. They induce a dance of elation. This person forces a spirit of adventure. Then you lose them. When they leave, they take more than they brought.

There is no solution for this. Does one simply become a monk? Avoid all human contact lest they find solace in yet another bright sunny human being who will eventually leave with the little piece of soul that had been recovered? Does one simply give up feeling through the darkness and let it be their companion? Does one forsake all others for fear of being led into false security only to have it yanked away?

If only human beings were kinder to each other. If only human beings were honest and transparent with each other. Treating others as one would like to be treated is a scam. Human beings will always accord you the treatment that serves their interests. You deserve to be treated right but darling no one will. You might as well be a raging bitch.

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Is It Me?

Loving someone and letting them know is risky business. You open yourself to a world of possible hurt. It may also be the best thing you ever do. Being in love is a balancing act. On one hand you are trying really hard not to shout from the rooftops and passing out flyers informing everyone. On the other, you feel like that person is worth a possible heartbreak. In my many years, I have been in situations where I have had to choose to or not to take the plunge with someone. I have had to suppress my feelings lest this person finds out and takes advantage. Before, I was the kind of person who would live by faith. I would let my heart sing loud and proud. But now, I am a person who proceeds cautiously or, more often than not, does not proceed at all. This change was prompted by an experience with someone.

If love is so great, why does it hold so much risk? How does one person decide to take advantage of all that love you have for them? Is sex really worth hurting a person so bad that you forever change how they engage with other people? Do you want to get into those pants so badly that you do not care what your cavalier handling of their heart will do to them? How does it feel to turn a carefree person into one who can never stick around long enough to see where ‘it’ goes? Are lies really necessary? Surely if you stated your true intention you would get what you want and both of you would go on your merry way? No one would be hurt. You would both look back on that encounter as one for the spank bank.

What sucks worse is getting into a relationship-like situation despite having been hurt so irreparably and deeply then getting hurt yet again. After having to pick up pieces of your heart. After working hard to glue every piece together. It can never be good as new but it will work. You ask yourself some very difficult questions. Am I just easy to hurt and take advantage of? What about me makes it so easy to walk all over then throw away like yesterday’s smelly trash? Is it something I said? Is it something I did? Have I angered some sort of god? Believe it or not, after you have been hurt enough times you stop blaming the people who hurt you and turn to yourself. You wonder why you still have a soft heart after everything. You chastise yourself for putting yourself in that position again. You hate yourself for being so stupid as to open up your heart to yet another person. You wonder when you will finally learn the lesson. You become a person who doubts every speck of affection thrown your way. You try to repay every act of kindness. You have trouble understanding how a person could love you genuinely and expect nothing in return. You become damaged.

What then is the solution? Will you live without loving and letting yourself be loved for the rest of your life? How do you move forward when your heart has not forgotten and keeps getting reminders?

Maybe if we were honest with our intentions. Maybe if we talked about expectations before much has been done. Maybe if kept our hearts to ourselves. Then maybe we would not break each other.

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Creeping into the Friendzone

She felt him before she heard then saw him. Like a strong gust of wind, you shiver first then you hear it whistle through the air. He was too far for her to smell him but his scent hit her nostrils all the same, all from memory. A strong mixture of manly dominance and pheromones. She could remember that scent all too well. That scent had driven her crazy from the moment they met to the day he inadvertently broke her heart . She leaned in to that scent and for that weak minute let herself imagine what life would have been like to wake up blanketed in it for the rest of her life. She imagined all the times the same scent would envelope her in the shower and after a passionate round of sex. She did not realize that she had stopped in her tracks. This man despite being in the back of her mind for a while still had the ability to render her completely immobile and subservient to whatever whims he may conjure up.

The day they met was like any other. It was not a day worth writing home about. It was sunny and pleasantly warm outside. She was in a small black skirt that showed off all the weight she had lost. Her demeanor and walk were an announcement of the reawakening she was going through. She was finally breaking out of her cocoon to rediscover the woman she once was. Then, like he was not about to disrupt her world, he walked into her shop. Wearing nothing but a smile, blatant charm and a warning to hold her sanity close. Her wits abandoned her and her mouth claimed its independence. She talked endlessly about nothing and everything. He stood there with a smile touching his lips. Like he already knew just how much shit he was stirring and boy did the air stink. He moved his fingers down her arm deftly. Claiming her in every way possible with every inch he moved. She trembled. She giggled. She overheated and turned into a steaming pile of lust under his palm. He had no idea just how much he was undoing her. How could he, his touch was innocent.

Everyday after for the next month, he called her several times a day. She listened to his voice talk about things she did not understand. He had the cutest speech impediment. So she listened to the vibrations of his voice. She heard the unintended affection in his voice. She tolerated the heat between her legs. She was determined not to ruin things. She loved staying up until late at night saying nothing into the phone as he told her about his day.

The universe does not warn you when shit is about to hit the fan. You may experience some foreboding before your heartbreaks but you can never guess just how aggressively the shards of your heart will pierce your lungs and leave them punctured. He asked her for another girl’s number. He talked about how much he liked her. With every word he uttered she broke. Her spirit wept. Her body shuddered. Her forehead dripped with anxiety. She experienced more hurt than her body could hold. She sent the number.

Small bits of her broke off as she watched the text sail off to him. Her dreams lost in an instant. She could not take it anymore. She could never handle hearing his voice ever again. She would never hold herself together if he looked into her eyes again. So she blocked his number. She shut him out then she went in search of tape. How else do you begin you assemble your heart? The tape had been holding until he stopped her dead in her tracks, like he always had.

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Here is to Love and Girly Drinks

I am love sick! Is that a thing? Especially at my age? Damn I feel old. I feel like I have been around for ages. I begin childhood stories with ‘in my time…’ Anyway, back to the matter at hand, what does love sick actually mean? That I love someone so much I am sick or that I want to love so desperately it makes me sick?

Beautiful Bastard. I have always secretly loved reading romance novels. I would not want anyone to know that I cried when Tess died and Angel married her sister because it had been her dying wish, in the Tess of the D’Ubervilles. One may argue that he was a fisi who had been nyemelearing on Liza Lu but I am a romantic so stop! I am into billionaire romance stories now. I have read the 50 shades trilogy too many times, I have been in search of something similar to quench my thirst and maybe cure my love sickness. However, reading about Chloe Mills and Bennet Ryan seems to have made my affliction worse. I do not really care much for the financial capability to be whisked away to exotic locations at a moment’s notice…wait, I lie. I want to be whisked away or whisk myself away, whichever comes first. I just find that this brand of romance appeals to me more. I find that the people in these books work to uplift each other. When Ana was fresh out of school, Christian could have done anything to ensure she had opportunities that would not be available to everyone. I like that the characters in these two stories understand the importance of working up the ladder and not just handing their girlfriends things. Speaking of which, are there any stories where the girl is the rich one with private planes and the guy is the struggling intern? I would love to read one of those.

I keep digressing. The story of Bennet and Chloe is so inspiring. They are both strong willed people but somehow they work. Somehow their love wins all. Despite being hardheaded they always make concessions for each other. That kind of love is sacred. Chloe tells Bennet that when he travels he takes her home with him. I mean, damn. Tell me you would not want to be someone’s home. Tell me you would not want to be on someone’s mind every waking moment. Tell me you would not want to be so entwined with someone that your bodies just move in perfectly harmonized symphony.

There is a whole lot of rambling here. I have been listening to Dolly Parton and Kenny Rodgers, are those two perfect for each other or what? I wish you, yes you, the kind of love that makes you feel like you are about to combust. I wish you joy beyond measure. I hope you meet that one person who exasperates you but cannot be away from.

I am not making any sense. This was supposed to be a review of the Beautiful Bastard: Chloe and Bennet story but clearly I need to take a beat.

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I was fine without you. All the shit you put me through was forgotten. All the warmth and joy you inspired long gone. I moved on from the hurt.I became a functional human being once again. I rediscovered myself.

My love for you was bottomless. I loved you from the very first moment I laid eyes on you, as ridiculous as it sounds. I knew nothing about you but your spirit drew me to you. On that day, I forgot about the promises I had made myself- Lydia, stay away from men. Observe abstinence. But you, with your smile and your piercing stares. You, with your artful speaking and your bear hugs. You, with your intelligence and sense of humor. You, with your hold on me.  I was entranced. Everything ceased to exist at that moment and every time you looked at me from that point on. In an instant you meant more to me than most things and people in life. Oblivious to what might have been lying beneath your skin, I was prepared to go to the ends of the earth for you. All the past betrayals and heartbreaks faded into insignificance. The sight of you cured me. You appearance in my life renewed my energy for love once more. And love you I did. I envisioned my life with you. I looked forward to a future of laughter with you. I wanted to have your children. Our children would have your height and wisdom. I wanted to share and uphold your dreams. I wanted to be your woman for the rest of my life. I wanted to share my golden jubilee with you. I wanted our lives to revolve around each other. I want o be your best friend. I wanted to explore new thing sin life with you. I wanted you to be the one who held my hand when things didn’t work out.

I remember believing every single thing you said. I remember experiencing a weird stomach flutter when you said you loved me only three days after meeting. I was not scared by the idea. I was ecstatic. I remember changing my life completely to make you my chief concern. I ate nothing before finding out whether you had had something to eat. I did not fall asleep until you were safely tucked in in your own bed. I did not dare breath before uttering a silent prayer for your health and long life. I still remember the scent of your skin. I can still feel your after-coitus breath on  my neck when I think of you. The sound of your laughter often rings in my ears. Being in your presence filled me with inexplicable euphoria. My love for you was desperate and overwhelming. I tried, everyday, to describe in precise detail my exact feelings for you. This was to become my single point of failure.

You were allergic to my love. The depth of my affection for your turned you off. You broke my heart everyday for months. You progressively faded out of my life. I did not understand why I was losing you so I tried, sadly, to hold on to you. I missed getting lost in your eyes. I made a fool of myself. I stalked you. I prayed to God to please bring you back to me. I cried for months. Every time you ignored me, my spirit would shatter in a resoundingly. My heart would ache every time you took advantage of my desperation. I hated myself for settling for scraps. I knew I deserved better but the strength of your hold on me was overpowering.

One day, by the grace of God I managed to detach myself. I clawed back to reality. I went away to heal. After a lot of work on myself and prayer, I forgave you and myself. I became a person I could live with. Images of you seldom invaded my thoughts but they kept me company. All I had then were memories, good ones. Memories of a time when my life was good. I was happy with you, however short lived. This is what I choose to remember.

Now, you are back in my life. I find myself slipping right back into the dark abyss that was relations with you. You say otherwise but I know when you are done I will be broken once again. I pray to God for strength to resist you everyday. I have more to lose now. I cannot afford to let you break me again. I cannot tell you this because you will find a way to assuage my worries. You know how to navigate my psyche. That knowledge is dangerous to my sanity. I love you, always will, but I cannot jump right back into the ditch after I was pulled out by the strands of my hair. So please, in the name of the short blissful time we had together, leave me be. I am not strong enough so do it for me.

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Doux Bebe

Exactly a  year ago I was cutting vegetables under a tree struggling to bend over due to the big bulge on my abdomen. The sun reflected on the basin I was using. Leaves above my head were bending to the wind’s will in a rhythm that calmed my heart. I was not exactly happy but I was content. My mind would occasionally wander to thoughts of an earlier time. A time when I would have scoffed at the idea of staying home and cutting vegetables for the peoples on Madaraka Day. I did not regret my current position. I was more relaxed than I had ever been before. It had been long since I had enjoyed performing a simple task.

I was heavily pregnant. A few hours away from bringing joy to the world, unbeknownst to me. I was tired and sleepy, I had become accustomed to this. I also passionately abhorred clothes…and panties. So I was sitting under a tree in nothing but my towel cutting vegetables while breathing heavily and occasionally stopping to let the pain pass. I was an idiot or maybe I was just inexperienced. I was in labor and I did not even know it. I was living my life like the greatest thing was not about to happen to me. We had chicken and rice for lunch with the aforementioned vegetables on the side.

Today, a year later, the memory is still very fresh. The pain, rather than fill me with dread, brings a smile to my face. I loved being in labor, not on that material day of course, but now, now I often recall that day with an inexplicable fondness. The pain I was in that day brought forth the single most important person in my life. My reason for being the pleasant person I am now. My son turns one tomorrow and I am still quite surprised that we made it this far. I thought I was going to break him on the very first day. I knew for sure that with time I would get bored of him but I love him more every day.

Baby, you are the source of my joy. Your smile wipes my sweat and tears. The sweet melody of your chuckle relaxes my aching muscles. Happy birthday my darling. May the grace of God be with us always.

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