Reconcile

I'm a writer and a damn good one...as evidenced by the record breaking sales ;) (my one-day-dream) and this here was inspired by Bryan Adams' Please Forgive Me. I credit all copyrights accordingly; all characters and settings are fictional and not intended to emulate anyone and if anyone has a similar story out there then Great minds think Alike cause I sure don't plagiarize. Onwards.

He stormed through the house, throwing his coat to his butler carelessly before pounding determinedly up the stairs. He couldn't believe the woman's gall. Leaving him to explain her abrupt departure from the ball. Fine, so he was at fucking fault; but she; as a woman; should have handled his temper far better than running away like a little girl. All her claims of being adult and mature were erased by that one move.
He stopped abruptly outside her room, knowing instinctively she would be in there like a chit hiding away from her parents because they refused to buy her a pony. He snorted derisively. She'd probably given her parents hell while growing up.
He tried the door knob and found it unwilling. So he banged against the door until it rattled against its hinges. "Open up!" he bellowed.
Silence greeted him, making him more incensed. "Woman; if you don't open this door, I will break it down!"
"Go ahead, you insufferable oaf!"
Well, at least she wasn't angry enough to give him the silent treatment. He hated that.
"Open up," he asked at a lower volume. A movement in his periphery caught his eye and he turned to see his wife's lady hanging in the wings, like she could possibly protect her mistress from him. He threw her a scathing look and though she winced, she stayed firm. Women, he grunted; ever out to kill him.
"No," his wife responded.
"Why?" he asked absently.
She released a cry of disbelief. "Because you humiliated me tonight."
"I did no such thing," he growled.
"Yes; because calling me fat in front of all your friends with such disdain is not humiliating."
"I did not-."
"Yes, you did! You compared me to a cow. A cow, Philip. Like I can be traded at the market and not even for all that high a price. You say that after you leave my side all night."
He grunted in exasperation and leaned his head against the door. "All this drama for that?"
He stumbled forward as the door suddenly fell open and his wife's angry face was in his line of vision suddenly.
"Yes," she cried and moved to slam the door closed but he stopped her, one arm taking the force of the door while the other pushed her back.
He slammed the door closed behind him and turned to face her exasperated. He was ready to tear into her, convince her it was such a childish, stupid thought to misconstrue his words. Then he noted her sadness and he fought his anger beneath the surface.
"Why are you sad?"
She grunted her scoff and turned away from him.
"I didn't mean it that way," he said sincerely.
"Sure," she responded sarcastically.
"Truthfully. I saw you dancing with...him and I felt...jealous and I-," he broke off knowing he really had meant to insult her. "I am sorry," he said in a soft voice.
"You are never sorry," she threw back his declaration at her.
"I am now."
She turned to face him, wiping her face and making him feel like a cad. "Why did you do it?"
He sighed and looked down ashamed. Then he looked into her eyes. He started walking to her and she stepped back. He was quicker than she and he grabbed her wrist, pulling her to him. If she couldn't believe his words; she would believe his body. She always did.
When he made to kiss her, she ducked and twisted herself from his hold.
"It's not that easy this time," she declared with an air of offense.
"I don't like it when you dance with him," he said stoically, earning a look of annoyance.
"We're married."
"He doesn't act like he knows that. The way he looks at you and touches you-," he broke off at the disgust he felt at the thought of her ex-suitor being so close to her. "It makes me crazy. And I'm sorry that I insulted you. I...wanted to hurt you like your dancing with him hurt me."
He reached out again and took her hand gently. She let him pull her towards him, letting his hand slide around her waist.
"I am sorry."
She looked at him blandly.
"I just...I can't help the way I feel for you," he forced out, smiling at the look of surprise in her eyes. "These past few years that we've been together...I have still been in love with you. I don't show it in a normal way, I know but I do."
He leaned in to kiss her but she shied away. He insisted until she gave in, their lips moving from gentle touches to searingly intense lockings. He savoured her fingers delving into his hair, sending tingles down his spine. He reached for her gown's collar but she pulled away vehemently, shaking her head at him.
"Not again. Not this time."
"Don't deny me."
"Why? You deny me all the time," she threw back. "You always leave me; you always leave me alone."
"It's the way I am."
"It's the way you want to be!"
He took a step forward and she ran around the bed.
"Just leave me alone tonight; please just go to whoever it is you go to for your release and leave me alone like you always do."
He rolled his eyes at her dramatics and stalked around the bed. She couldn't escape him unless she went over the bed; which was her intention but not a well thought out plan. The textures of her gown and the bed-cover slowed her down enough for him to get to her, grabbing her ankle and turning her over so quickly that by the time she was putting up a fight he was on the bed leaning over her.
He leaned in and smelled her skin, nuzzling her neck and putting a kiss on her that made her push him away forcefully. He ignored her resistance, sitting up to undo his waistcoat and shirt. In one move, they were both off and she paused in her struggle. He smirked, knowing she liked what she saw.
He leaned over her slowly, letting his body move so languidly that his muscles rippled fluidly. He heard her breath hitch and smiled. He kissed her forehead, trailing down to her ear.
"It's just the way I love you is so intense. I am scared of hurting you with it; of scaring you off. I don't mean to push you away. I didn't mean to make you feel alone," he kissed her ear, feeling her shiver. "Let me prove it to you."
He kissed his way down her jaw, nudging her head up to kiss her neck and under her chin.
"Believe me, sweetheart. I love you and I've never stopped," he kissed his way down to her decolletage, tugging at her gown's collar.
She put her hands over his waist, pushing slightly at him until he sat up. Then she leaned up on her elbows and started pulling at the gown's back. He shifted backwards off the bed quickly and pulled her to stand up and made short work of her gown's laces. He didn't wait for the dress to fall off before pulling her to him and kissing her for all he was worth.
He picked her up and climbed the bed with her, laying her across it and making love to her far more intensely than ever before. When he entered her, he paused, rising up onto his forearms and waiting until she looked up at him.
 "You feel so much better than I remember," he kissed her deeply and started moving ever so slowly.
"There's only you. There's only ever been you," she whispered, tears brimming in her eyes. "You're the only one I'll ever want, Philip. I'll never stop loving you."
He sped up with every declaration of love, until her tears were overshadowed by her pleasure. Climaxed and well spent, he slid out of her and lay beside her, covering her with his arm.
"I meant it, Georgie," he whispered. "I'm sorry for the way I love you but I do love you."
She nodded against him, giving him a light kiss on his chest. "I love you, too."
"I know."

Indulgent

I have always thought I was open with people. That whoever I considered a friend knew me but yesterday I found out that’s not the case. In as much as I talk alot; no one knows much about me which I suppose shouldn’t bug me but it does make me question how guarded I am and why.

I know why and it isn’t pretty or helpful to repeat it over and over again. But why can’t I get over it? I still shouldn’t hope that one day I’ll be straight laced when I don’t even let one of my best friends know what I am about.

We were talking about drama in our lives and he said that mine has the kind that amuses him. I don’t think my life has drama but he said that particular situation I told him about was dramatic. I think it’s just annoying. The surprising part was that he was hearing for the first time and I thought he knew about it. Made me wonder what else don’t people know about me that they should. I came up with nada. Does that make me a bad person?

I don’t think so. I think it makes me quite boring but bad? Maybe sad; definitely introverted. Psychs say that withholding info about oneself is a form of abuse; lashing out at other people who express interest in the subject. But what if it’s unintentional? Unconscious? They say it isn’t and even if the subject doesn’t feel it’s selfish and unfair, they know it is which made me figure that sometimes I do intentionally keep things to myself. Not to punish someone or anything but because I don’t find it relevant to the topic.

So; how do I rectify this little problem? I have no idea. All these trust exercises I have gotten in my research just seem pretentious and energy consuming. Not cool. Especially when one is not motivated as I am. Guess I’ll just suck it up and play the part until I become the part.

Passing Go

Say you love me but your face isn’t right

You claim at night your pillow you hold tight

Dreaming of me spending the night

Being held in your arms till the dawn’s light.

You say you’ll wake me with kisses and love,

That it will register nothing else above.

You say you’ll make me feel alive

And truly the centre of your world.

But I know the  moment I give in you’ll run.

You’ll tuck tail and pretend we never were.

You’ll tell your friends I was just for fun

And they’ll look at me pitiful and dumb.

They’ll know you tricked me with your tongue,

That your words were overhyped.

They won’t stand for me however

Because men just support each other for life.

So I’ll stay saying no.

I’ll smile at you and pass go.

I’ll tell you to pick some other girl who can handle the end result.

Self Indulgent

I’m one of those people who lives in seasons. Season of love; season of apathy; season of wanting kids; season of not wanting kids and right now I’m in the latter.

I don’t hate kids. I like them a lot and find myself pretty protective over them but one thing they have in common at the moment; they are not mine. That seems to make a lot easier to like them and forgive their mistakes. I have reiterated the fact for the last seven years that offspring will not come forth from my womb of my own will. Unless it’s surrogacy.

My family seems to think it’s all a joke, insisting time and again that I will indeed have children; a whole brood like me and my siblings. I have learned to smile and joke with them about it, knowing they will so be pitying me by dumping their own kids on me (who I will welcome) for visits when they realise I don’t have any in my forties. Their reasons for having said children in general are my reasons not to in specific.

My mother; bless her; and myself are the reasons for me not having children. Her child-rearing skills have scarred me and my subsequent handling of my issues have fortified my scars enough that I can acknowledge having children is a bad idea for me.

My mind has managed to keep in mind bad experiences such that I cannot for the life of me remember good experiences. Most of these bad experiences involve my mother and as such she was the villain of my life for most of it. Nowadays, I don’t regard her much beyond paying her back for spending energy on me and money too; unfortunately the situation on the latter can’t be addressed at the moment but the former entails a lot of energy from me which is fuelled by the bursts of resentment against her that still linger inside me. I don’t want someone else feeling the same way towards me as I do my mother; especially if that person is my child.

My mother was not a stable person when she had her first born, my eldest sister. According to my father, she suffered from post-partum and scared him because he’s a guy. Guys don’t know enough of what post-partum is now; much less thirty years ago and so he didn’t know how to handle her save for not aggravating her and helping her with my sister when he came home from work. The depression of post-partum aggravated my mother’s instability, making her worse of a candidate to be a mother but how can someone who doesn’t know they aren’t stable deal with their issues and understand their weaknesses? So she ended up having six children; most of whom didn’t find her rearing skills stellar but can attest that she was a pro in the discipline department.

I am instable just like; if not worse than; my mother. Mainly because of my nurture but also naturally. It’s in my genes to be uncommonly awkward and different from the norm. Supremely, I am not a naturally social person and being raised to not distrust everyone and not make connections really does a number on a socially awkward person’s capabilities. I was raised as such, thanks to my mother which has led to me struggling with something that over half the world’s population does naturally. I resent her for this as well.

It took a long while for me to realise my problems i.e. what made me unable to be a normal person at the basic state of humanity. In that long time I made a bunch of stupid, stupid actions and decisions whose memories have left serious scars on me. In trying therapy, I realised one of those scars in an irrevocable disdain of adults. Even being one myself, I hate the state. Adults in my life have been condescending, destructive people. Someone I am trying my best not to be but find myself falling into the traits unconsciously sometimes. In finding out about problems, I realised that being a mother would be the worst thing I could possibly do. Taking out my frustrations and problems and unconscious negativity on a child is wrong and doing it consciously should be a crime on the same calibre of murder if not worse because while murder takes away a life; destroying a child’s natural personality and mental psyche is in essence torture as a way of life is taken away while the person is living.

Thus, I don’t advocate for just any Thomasina, Erica and Harriet to have a child. In fact, I’m pretty much so adverse to some people getting kids that I do advocate for sterilisation because having a kid and raising one are two different things and while the former may all be fine and dandy; the latter is hard work and usually a fail. Kenyan society is enough of an example.

Parting shot; they say a woman should look to her mother to see who they’ll be when they are older. As such I am not all too sure that she is a good example of what kind of person I would be as a mother. And every time I look at my mother in such light, I feel my decision not to add to the country’s population is more than right.

Romance 102

The King’s Act

No, it wasn’t all about women. I know we’ve gone through enough with being just female not to have to be targeted by some amateur human behaviour observer. So here’s The King’s Act.

Hello some-men. You are the ones who forever want to be treated as King’s but act like brutish heathens with no class or sense of propriety. Like it’s proper to return the favours your women/partners bestow on you. If she washes your clothes, cooks your dinners, cleans the house, bears you children, tolerates your creepy, overbearing mother and worse father; then pay her back duly. Say take her out for dinner, buy her a beautiful dress(only if you have eyes for shopping by the way), treat her to a spa day and if she’s not one for such European sophistication, then get her a practical thing she really wants; like a lovely sweater, or the kids off her hands for one day; do the dishes; stop tracking dirt into the house especially after she’s just cleaned it and do not irritate her thoughtlessly. If she doesn’t like the front door left open, close it once you’re through.

Some-men in Kenya are simply terrible to live with. Personally, all men are terrible to live with but a few people I’ve seen over the years differ with me on that subject and since I haven’t lived with anyone but my family, I’m going to take their word on it. So, all men like to be treated with respect, pride, and admiration. Some men forget that these traits are earned not simply given. So they walk around with their egos and puffed out chests and attract women whose fathers had the same characteristics and draw them into marriage and then expect more regard.

Only maybe the women they married aren’t out for someone who has no regard in return for them. The reason some, if not most marriages with such dynamics, don’t work out is because the men are selfish and self centred. Everything has to be on their terms and no one elses. Financially, sexually and even interactively. They want their wives to do everything for them and they will do nothing in return. They won’t satisfy them sexually, they won’t give them moral support and they won’t compliment them ever. If anything, they’ll even insult their partners’ shortcomings. Then they wonder why their nice adoring wife turns into a cold, belligerent partner in record time after the lust fades.

Listen up(rather read) some-men, it’s about time you chucked your head out of cloud selfish and took a good look around. Humans are energy so they need energy to survive or they become a blackhole. Being selfish takes energy from other people, while being selfless gives energy to other people. While you’re busy believing forcing your partner to do your every bidding is giving you a great life, soon enough your partner will become a blackhole which sucks everything around itself into its abyss and then you’ll start grumbling about how your wife is cold and unresponsive and let herself go and you’ll have affairs because you need to replenish energy that your partner is siphoning from you when everything would start being balanced out by a kind word or simple loving gesture.

Telling your wife she’s done a good job might be a hard thing to do if you’ve never experienced it as a second-nature but your words can make her happy. You might not be able to afford a trinket or dress but a meaningful she’s beautiful when you see her or thank you when she does something for you can go a longer way than a bracelet tossed at her. Make some decisions on your own like what to have for dinner and when to wake up but share other decisions with her like your family visiting and bill payments and staying out overnight. Sexual satisfaction does cover more ground than a day at the spa. Surprise her by picking her up at work or take her shopping at the supermarket; buy her an alice band that compliments her or a novel of her favourite genre if she’s a reader. If she likes movies, take her out over the weekend to a movie you’ve probably heard her mention. Make her a mix of her favourite music or if you can’t afford that, when you’re on the radio and her favourite song comes on, no matter how much you hate it, call her attention and turn up the volume for her. Listen to her when she’s talking and make her smile. Believe it or not, smiling at a woman makes her smile back. It’s infectious.

Most women are practical; and most women who end up with some-men compromise a lot without really accepting the situation. So little irritations become big problems and if some-men end up loving their partners, addressing a lack of balance in their relationship would help them be in a satisfying coupling.

This is a general call, to some-men, to stop being selfish and ignorant of their actions in this world romantic-wise. Men groan physically but not in personality so they expect to be treated like they are seven while they treat everyone else without regard. Save romance and be decent people.

Romance 101

I’m a romantic girl, I won’t lie. Open doors for me, lead me into places, offer your arm, pull out my chair, compliment me; I will eat it up and then carry some in a foil shaped as a duck to take home with me and keep for at least a couple of weeks.

The Queen’s Act

Unfortunately people in Kenya apparently never heard the term romantic outside of soap operas. Ask anyone today who is in a relationship what they think romance is and every Cuando, Secreto, Soy Tu Duena crap character will fall from their lips. And then I facepalm and tell my brother that’s the reason I will never be in a relationship. I don’t want a Juan Miguel although Jose Miguel (Soy Tu Duena) is quite attractive in a realistic manner.

Some women, for some reason want such characters as their men. Someone who will tolerate and even expect their dramatics, weird weaves, garish makeup and ill-fitted styles. They want someone who will cry to show sensitivity even though the moment they do see a man cry they’ll ridicule him for being a woman(warped psyches). They want someone rich and loving and spewing lines like without your kiss I’ll die. Yes, there truly was a line as such in a soap.

When the said some-women realise their men will never be the men in their novellas, they don’t care much for them. They treat them badly and most times insignificantly.  They in turn treat themselves carelessly because they have no one to impress. Their dream lovers are nowhere in sight so why spruce oneself up?

This is my bane. Women want to be treated like queens but because their fairytale princes and kings don’t exist, they don’t play nor dress the part. They don’t walk with the posture of a queen which is (frankly speaking) head, boobs and butt up and out. They don’t act like a queen which is composure at least ninety percent of the time they are alive no matter the situation and a smile. Beauty isn’t attractive without a smile. Instead, they stoop and slouch and walk like ducks without the grace of being birds. The some-women barely smile and seem in perpetual unhappiness, like using forty-two muscles of your face to frown will make anyone remotely like your prince approach you.

It’s not a theory that a lack of acting the part evokes expected reaction in the sex you’re trying to attract. Case in point is some guy who is barely married two years and his wife has turned from a slightly made up lady to a troll. She wears old stockings for a cap, doesn’t bother with a bra or posture so her breasts are southward bound, she doesn’t bathe daily and dresses in old tracksuits and t-shirts and ripped socks. She wears and old nightgown to bed with the same stockings on her head. Needless to say, she’s not healthy either. The husband doesn’t come home most nights because what he’s coming home to is not attractive. He even described it as repulsive and wonders if it’s too soon to divorce her ass.

I wouldn’t be surprised if the wife is busy grumbling to her friends over facebook or unlimited texts that her husband isn’t the person she thought he was and the sex is mediocre and infrequent and she’s thinking he’s having an affair because he’s not home when she’s going to bed.

We all see what can be done here to save this marriage but as we all can see so can most not see it in themselves. What would it hurt dear some-women, to go to Woolworths and get your bra size fitted? Before you moan about money and time go on a Saturday with five hundred bob to buy two bras. A good bra gives support and confidence like nonsense. Get the right bra size, buy a couple of pretty underwear as your first step. Start walking with your head high and your back straight. If you’ve been slouching a long while, it will be uncomfortable at first but it gets more comfortable in a couple of days and even natural. Smile a little. You don’t have to be all teeth and gums to smile. Just pull a small uplifting curve on your lips and feel good. Even if nothing good is happening in your life, just smile a little and you’ll feel you can handle it. Then go to your hairdressers and instead of getting another synthetic weave, try your natural hair for a couple of weeks. It doesn’t hurt and plaiting the hair is actually a work out for your arms at night which help out your breasts in being buoyant a few more years.

It may all seem useless and futile especially if you live with a Neanderthal of a man but what if that Neanderthal is waiting for a queen to show herself in order for him to treat you as such? It’s not far fetched to think a man needs a few signals to understand that he needs to step up and put some effort in the relationship to maintain his end as well. And even if the Neanderthal doesn’t sprout an armour immediately, you shouldn’t give up the queen’s act. It will make you feel great; and eventually you’ll be great.