I will not forget that day. We had just graduated from Secondary School, my friend and I. I think we were on our way to his guardian’s flat, because Lamara had said it was a walking distance. Anyway, that’s not the story; this is the story. You see, normally, these things are done covertly. But I was at that time in my life when hormones were all over the place. So, Lamara, with his unparalleled capacity for both mischief and bluntness, after observing it all for a few minutes, turned to me and asked - ‘Why are you staring at that woman’s (and this is the sanitized version) bum?’
Well, I consider it the blessing of melanin, this genetic incapacity to truly blush. So, I kept a straight face and flat out denied it. Yes. I was still a few years away from mastering the art of the ‘side-eye’, but my awkward ways had already earned me the slightly annoying label: ‘prude’. Meaning? Someone who feels too embarrassed to admit he enjoys the view.
Let me explain. Maybe, I was fifteen or so; my mum took me to see a friend of hers, one of these Europeanized types, she grabbed me by both shoulders and kissed one cheek after the other. Honestly? I considered it assault. And barely restrained myself from executing a hip throw. It made my mum laugh, the ‘fight or flight’ look in my eyes. But, anyway, that’s just to tell you where I was coming from.
So, teenagers being teenagers, I found friends at Uni who made it their mission to ‘fix’ me. And, at first, it was excruciatingly irritating; a group of girls constantly interrupting my reading to ask, ‘Seriously, seriously, are you gay?’ But after a while I relented; tried my first arm across shoulder, my first hand in hand, my first side hug, my first full hug, my first ‘let me sit on your laps’, till I finally got it – repression is one thing, self-control is another.
Yes. Usually, it’s the very people who pretend that the sight of a woman’s behind does nothing to them (when in fact it does) who are in imminent danger of misconstruing a handshake. And even after you’re married, you could continue to find it all very troublesome – a partner who interprets physical intimacy, of any kind, as some sort of foreplay. Honestly, it’s not so funny then, when you can’t cuddle, or play wrestle, or just tickle each other under the sheets for fun. My brother, it’s a bit like missing all the colors between black and white.
But, don’t get me wrong o; there is really no progress in exchanging one extreme for the other. True! The person who can’t see it, marvel briefly at how much work God put into it, and move on with life is really not much better than the person who cannot even admit he just looked at it. And, you know what? For that special person sitting on the other side of your table, there will be days when even that brief glance will be a glance too many. Yes. Love can be funny like that. But just know it; no matter how long it’s been, there will be moments in every relationship when you will need to let them see it: ‘In every way that counts, you are the only one I have eyes for’.
So, yes, as I’m sure you can already tell, I am still quite prudish. And, if a woman swings by now, I still won’t gawk. But if you catch me glancing ‘codedly’, I will shrug my shoulders and laugh with you. Just don’t think it now means we can spend the next hour trading obscenities. True. And it’s not for lack of either imagination or appropriate metaphors on my part. It’s just that, honestly, there is a point at which this whole thing, no matter how we spin it, fades into the objectification of something that is actually quite precious. Yes, that’s what I still think. But feel free to draw your own boundaries wherever you will.
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