Sometimes you wait till the gyration is loudest; one of those services where the Pastor is encouraging everyone to leave their seats and dance for another year successfully lived through. No road accidents. No plane crashes. No asphyxiation in the middle of the night from inhaling diesel fumes. That's when you wind your tiny waist over to where she is; pretending you're 'in the Spirit', when the only thing you've been into for a long time now is her.
No yawa. I understand. We all need help sometimes to say these things, especially when we really mean them. Love can be like that, hitting with a force that shakes a few things loose, your first name included. Be honest. Have you never forgotten it before, just as you were about to introduce yourself? Opened your mouth and found it mysteriously dry? Both knees behaving like they were not made of bones? My brother, don't worry; the loss of liver is very normal.
Once, in Primary School, I stalked a girl; tailed her all the way home, searching the whole time for confidence. So, now, I can tell you CONFIDENTLY; there is nothing as intimidating as a pack of girls all high on Capri-Sonne and chattering away, when the particular one you're eyeing is in the middle. Especially after you've heard the horror stories. That babe that spins around and shouts (on a crowded corridor too), 'How many times will I tell you? LEAVE – ME – ALONE!' 'What is it?' I have been told that this is how you must respond in a situation like that, just as loud, just as aggressive. 'Can somebody not ask you for an eraser again?'
But – let's face the facts – there is NO gentle way of saying, 'No.' If they want let them dip it in syrup, roll it in chocolate, sprinkle it with two fistfuls of sugar, when you come home, you must still lie down on your bed for a while, cover your eyes with the crook of your arm and think about your life. And, my brother, if you're not careful you could get up from that experience with a phobia; needing 'God', henceforth, to do the talking for you.
Ah! This is where things can get ridiculous. Imagine - 'I had a dream and I saw Jesus under a Jacaranda Tree. He took me round to a silver stream and I saw you sitting on a rock beside it. He led me to where you were sitting and, before I knew it, you were standing. And I heard a voice from heaven, three times, saying – Behold, this is your wife!' And she thinks to herself – This is precisely why I don't come for Night Virgils.
Let me tell you something. There's NOTHING wrong with you. It doesn't matter how many people have told you they cannot be with you because you're too short, too fat, too thin, too bald, or (my personal favorite) too 'dry'. (Yes – sadly – once upon a time, my idea of 'going out' was climbing up the rocks at Usuma Dam and watching the water together.) No yawa. Everyone is entitled to his or her own idiosyncracies.
But – be warned – whenever you meet that person whose box of preferences you actually tick, you will still need to reel them in. And if you don't bring some swag with you on that particular day, well, let me put it this way – not saying it convincingly when you mean it can have consequences that are just as sad as saying it convincingly when you don't. It's just the way this thing is set up. Ultimately, you will walk off into the sunset, NOT with 'The One', but with the one you are able to convince.
And, believe me, it doesn't end there. Your ability to KEEP them convinced, long after the last firework has crackled into silence, is a big, big part of 'happily ever after'. So, I beg you, don't choose the wrong day to slack. It is true that I love you (or could love you) just the way you are. But it still wouldn't hurt if you took the time, whenever the occasion demanded, to take my breath away.
Hmmmm
ReplyDelete