I wanted to write about end of campus break ups. They have always intrigued me. They are predictable, bitter and disappointing. But I have scheduled that to the subsequent blog. Hopefully it will be a mature, conscious, insightful and instructive piece. I can guarantee.
Now let us talk about Naomi. She is 20. She is a lady who has done the unbelievable. At 5’5, light-skinned, latent but erotically promising hips that she invariably dresses correctly, a benign, simple and modest smile, she intends to be single. Her feet are like a foot path to a lushly green garden(no pun intended). Her bottom is sizable enough to satisfy any sexually greedy person in our midst. She dresses quite sexually. Her wardrobe dictates she is a lady yearning to be seduced, courted and possibly be married.
She loves music. She is listening to Boyz2Men’s Water runs dry as I’m writing this while playing Solitaire. I bet I’m that boring. But hold your horses before you accuse me of being incurably boring.
Naomi is the mark of simplicity. The SI unit of modest. She does not blow dry her hair and will not scamper to buy an umbrella, afraid of her hair. Impossibly, she manages her hair as naturally as possible. Naomi will go out with anyone who asked her out but will drop any sucker pronto who tried anything untoward or who refuses to be understanding of her lifestyle choice that we are discussing here. At the risk of earning yet another dozen female enemies, to me she is the embodiment of femininity in the university.
Naomi studies Architecture. She initially wanted to be a Mechanical Engineer but fate threw her into building and construction. Not that she regrets anyway. The same way, I don’t regret not making it to Medical School. I still believe, given a chance, I can make it( this is meant to be funny).
What has Naomi done that she getting this air space and your time? Well, I met her about a year ago at a friend’s room. Back then, she was a starry-eyed first year, bursting with eagerness. My friend, Nimgi was after her like bee following someone with a strong scented cologne. Quite understandably, Nimgi was the right choice for her at the moment, the erotic desires of the three or four men in the room notwithstanding.
Nimgi later told me something that got me thinking about her so much. One, she does not believe in this thing called love. Neither do I. She intends to remain single and celibate the rest of her life. I equally harbour such thoughts, only that I’m the lone son. She is the lone daughter in their family of two sons and a daughter. I thought that Nimgi was the naïve freshman, clueless on what to do to a woman. I dismissed him that he is hardly capable of telling a woman the right things.
For long I looked forward for my fifteen minutes with her. They came. We had a one hour session over a drink at Nick’s Grill. She was composed with that poise of a woman who has read and listened to a lot of Oprah. Her disposition is so calm like someone who has discovered that peace within that we always seek. She still possessed her beliefs and I postponed the talk to an appropriate date.
In my mind, I had overplayed expectations that finally I was about to date a woman that my heart truly desires. At the beginning, as usual, I wanted her to be in charge. I told her to choose the place of her convenience; around her classes, in my room, in her room, in town or anywhere. She obliged to avail herself whenever I wanted her. I proposed my room. She was there in exactly 30 minutes, keeping time in an astonishing fashion.
She arrived wearing a pink top and a key holder corresponding the colour of her top. She wore black cotton pants. Her hair was simply tied by an hair band. A simple, casual look on a Monday evening, I can add. She came in. She was so much at home in my place. She fell in love with my music, by the way, I boast the best collections of soul, R n B, New Jack swing and blues. She also liked the cards game in my computer, which she has been playing for the last six hours having concluded our talk earlier on in the night.
The talk could not go any far, given she has reached the dead end. No men. She is in love with Jesus. If you think you can’t make it with her, keep off her. She will never cross your line.
Now there are many frustrating things in life. Being perpetually broke is one. Having problems with sizeissues is second. Being in a sea of womanity and having none is third. But hosting one until (it is 1.16am) at this point without much headway is the height of a frustrating weekend. You start wondering why she likes love songs. Is it a case of being in love but with a faceless person like my cousin Patrick once told me.
Sample the songs she is playing back to back as I’m on my laptop punching this sob story; Sometimes by Britney Spears, That is the way it is by Celine Dione, Water runs dry by Boys to Men and Not yet a girl, not yet a woman by Britney Spears. Am a trapped man.
Quite frankly, I have inexplicable feelings for her. She gives the cliché ‘one in a million’ a whole new meaning. She is not a prude. OK, she wanted to be a nun at one point. By twelve, she had decided that she will never need men in her life. She vowed never to hug any man in her life. She vowed to remain celibate her entire life. She can never love any man. She neither wants an heartbreak nor does she want to break anyone’s.
So here we are at 1.23am(check on my typing speed)like brother and sister. She playing her solitaire innocently presuming that I don’t have any animal side to me. OK, I don’t have it. At least not without any express, explicit consent. I wonder what is going on her mind. Whatever it is, I hope it is not about me or my person. Which sensible man keeps a woman for seven hours, she playing cards on the computer, and him typing his troubles away.
OK, Naomi is the fewest of remaining types. I suggest she should have gone to the monastery and save men like yours truly the trouble of having it too close but can’t just touch.
And to think that she was never abused when she was young according to her confessions. She says, she comes from a perfect family set up. Mum and Dad are around and still very loving. Dad cooks and she is in love with her mother. This purely the stuff fiction novel is made off. Sometimes in deed facts can be stranger than fiction. But I would so much love someone to help me understand Naomi. She is the object of my fantasy and obsession.
Guess what song she plays next…ALL MY LIFE BY KCI & JOJO
This the stuff that gets Jeff Koinange saying, what a night!, what an evening! a celibate virgin, a lonely yearning man, together listening love songs at the wee hour of the night. Ooo!!talk about a blind person and a deaf person through a maze. A road to nowhere….