Kissing Margaret

Dear John, yesterday I kissed the  friend I had been telling you about. Her name is Margaret.

Kissing Margaret stirred the strangest feeling in my mouth. The first kiss was brief. Fast. And Cold. We were lying sideways with my right arm below her head. My eyes were closed during the meet. I was worried. Maybe ‘scared’ more appropriate. I knew she wanted me to kiss her. She had wanted that kiss for months. But, I also knew how quick I could change my mind and when we broke off from that slice of bliss, her large eyes made me believe in love.

I tasted the plastic in my mouth. Lip gloss. Her rastas were brown. Not unlike her skin. Her cold committing lips called endearingly.
I needed another hit. I knew the moment would end. And badly.
But at least, the moment was ours.
My eyes were still closed. This time, it was warmer. Her fingers scrapped through my unkempt hair and my hands wondered around her anatomy. She had the body of a Douala goddess. Fair skinned, large eyes, small pink lips, steady smooth voice and chubby tummy. Her sweaty embrace exuded crude passion. Her silent moans made me firm and her mouth, the doorway to her imperial voluptuousness.
It lasted a couple of minutes. Real time. For me, space and time had frozen. Typical.  John, we both know this wasn’t the first kiss I have had, but at least, this was the first mouth that had reached the projected expectations. In look and feel. Faith tasted ( and looked) glorious.
I knew we were never going to date. Or that if we had a relationship, I would be the first to hurt her feelings with my mood swings. I understood her skeptism and desire to keep covering her shapely bottom and full breasts.
Consciously or not, she understood I had a certain lethal nature. That my jokes, smooth moves and sensual gaze had been exercised far too many times.
” I have to go now…I…have some things to do at home”.
A lie we both understood. Staying could lead to further regrets. The moment had been perfect but the spell was broken. One of us had to let go. She was smarter this time.
” 10 more minutes. Please. You’ll go at …5 55″
Showing her the time on my computer screen did not lessen her resolve. I love an independent woman. More if she is pretty. She smiled.
” Nope.”
John, I have told you about my condition many times. I don’t particularly feel attached to anyone. I sometimes think I am a sociopath. But every once in a while, I find myself daydreaming of a time when I would be truly grateful to have someone else’s arms around me. A woman’s preferably.
I have built a castle of unreliability around myself. Especially when it comes to matters of affection and attachment.
I have a girlfriend. I don’t love her anymore. I know she loves me very much. That, saddens me. I know she will find out soon and that, I will probably be the one to tell her. It will hurt her and I will be the bad guy. But from what I have seen with all my ex-girlfriends, it always turns out better for them.
Dear john, you might think I am writing this letter to make you feel sorry for me, Please, do not. I am already sorry for myself. Every woman I have kissed has taken a piece of love away from me. Every heart I have broken scarred my soul. I am not heartless. On the contrary , I have become more romantic and as emotional as a straight  young man can be.
I just think I second guess human intentions and in my quest to find my one , true love, I have lost every hope at the game of love.
John, I might die alone. I need your help.
Your brother,
P.S: I hope to write movies in future. In the meantime, I write when I feel as to. I would love to get your critique of this piece. It is supposed to be  an email my main character (Martin) sends to his younger brother (John) to whom he is particularly attached.
What is your take?

Five Lessons I learnt from My Parents’ Union( or I want to get married too). Started on Thursday, March 14, 2013 6:21 PM

I had a dream last night. No, it was not the Martin Luther King Jr. type. I was in a hurry to have a child of my own so bad, I forced open the egg in which my kid was before it was time. My child came out with one malformed arm. I was devastated.
I have no idea why I included the above information in this post. I guess I’m just as crazy as my mates say I am.

Anyway, I have been home since Tuesday. With mom, dad and two French…”tourists”. They are here to work with my dad so I guess “Wourists” is an appropriate term . They are two young ladies. We won’t talk about them.
Marriage. I will be returning to school by Sunday the 17th. The second semester resumes on the 18th and I am not yet done with registration. Not mentioning the collection (and deposition) of copies of my internship letter. The exams took a toll on me I have to admit. I had to come home to re-vitalize .The hidden reason is to finally come to terms with a morsel of truth: My parents will be celebrating their Church wedding on the 6th of April.
Mom’s Catholic. Dad’s not. Not that I particularly care. He does. He is sometimes (always) complains about Catholics and their “customs”: “Vous les Catholiques!” as he says.
[Note to self: write a post titled : The Ultimate Worship showdown: Catholic VS Presbyterian]
The Union is thus a mixed one. Why on earth will they be called that? #Ihatelabels.
I am 23.February 8th this year did that to me. I can therefore assume confidently that my parents have been together for that amount of time. The age difference between them six(6) years give or take. I have never been curious enough to find out why. Don’t ask me. I won’t tell you. Therefore, in my short stay on the globally acclaimed unique planet capable of supporting human life in the milky way, I have learnt a thing or two concerning marriage which could be applied other relationships in general; friendships, lovers, dates, whatever.

1. It sometimes (really) does get better with time.
No matter how happy ,excited ,pissed or mad you are at the beginning of any relationship, we can all agree ,(some people never do…of course…),that a previous inside joke could one day spur heated arguments or/and lead to bloodshed. The reverse too is as plausible.
When I was a kid,7 or so, they used to fight. Verbally…mostly…LOL! My father has never raised his finger at any female, especially not the woman he loves. Trust me, If I were him I would probably have raised bodies. My mother is a woman, you see, and women possess the queer ability to know when, how and what pushes her man’s buttons. I thinks it’s a “Swuper Power”.

Right now ,when I try to recall, I don’t remember the last time they ever raised their voices (apart from when in unison to reprimand me or one of my clones).They operate in a symbiosis that one can achieve when one gains both pleasure and happiness,(yes, there is a major difference), from knowing someone way back. It is very similar to(but far more earnest) to the feeling that pushes one to smile when saying something like:
“Oh! James? I know that fellow!!We went to high school together! He was such a nerd at the time. He works at….now. We used to….”
It’s a really nice feeling. I hope to earn it someday.

2. Some things will never change. Deal with it(or You can’t teach an old dog new tricks).
My mom ,like almost every other regular lady, owns a “mobile phone”. I personally think she understands only the latter half of the term. It always rings at least 50 Meters from her! I justify her action with a likely desire to avoid brain cancer. But she constantly debunks my argument by NEVER KNOWING WHERE SHE KEPT IT!
My dad doesn’t cook. I mean every word in the previous sentence in its basic sense. He has never and would never. He loves eating(good food only) but that is where his culinary practice ends. He is a wonderful food critic too. In all honesty, he has never needed to and he probably never will. After all, what is a kid’s job if not take care of those who took care of him/her? My dad has worked too hard his whole life. He still is. He deserves the best(food).
I have known them all my life and there are definitely many habits and attributes they have that have stood the test of time. Old habits truly die hard.

3. Your Children(products, exudes of your relationship)must be smarter that you If you want to survive the changing times.
Till date, I still type my mom’s emails. If her phone acts up…I am her guy! A bug on any PC it’s us before they even think of a maintenance guy. The only thing I know my mom is really good at is make-up!(I’m kidding, she is the best cook ever. This is NOT a perfunctory statement. She probably will never read my blog anyway…)
When any appliance has issues, we the kids are the momentary parents-passing out commands, instructions-“Turn of the switch….give my the nail…hand me the tape….”I get not to say please all the time…yay! There is this feeling of pride on both ends: as the son ,you are very enthusiastic about showing off your skills your parents (…to the neighbor’s daughter even more…hehehe…cool me!) AND you parents feel really glad to know you know…you know?!
Time waits for no one. I heard from a report on the BBC that the human mind is like plastic and can be molded. It’s not fixed. I also do extrapolate that a child’s mind must be more malleable. We clearly learn more when we are younger. Kids learn faster. Parent can’t do something!?…Kid help parent. Everyone happy…”Now who’s your Daddy? :D”

4. Do not Expect too much.
Hope is good. It is the perfect fuel. But if you set your expectations too high, the outcome could be heart wrenching if not alienating. This is probably a regular maxim for some people but I will hone it toward marriage.
Parents: Your kids are individually unique constructs of nature. You cannot mold them into your image. You may succeed (or think you have)but if they are not happy have failed completely in parenting…IMAO.
Kids: Parents will(under human circumstances) always seek to satisfy your varied needs but in a world where the global economy creeps, where capitalism and communism clash and where Nigerian Movies are the new African Standard (I really REALLY do not like Nigerian movies…seriously…I will write a post on why to justify my stance…not that I need to justify anything…),nothing had ever seemed so gloomy. They will try. Trust me. They will promise you. But keep this in mind…OTHER FACTORS BEYOND THEIR CONTROL WILL CRUSH you.
5. This post is getting way to long and I am getting out of hand…let me go to school!!

Thanks for reading 😉 !
P.S: My next post is “Why My Parents Killed me!”