This Thing Called Love!

Love can neither be created nor destroyed. It can only be transferred from one person to another, with minor losses in possessions. We all need love. Nothing can be truer than that. But we lose it and pay the price. I did.

Have you ever felt it so deep the emptiness, loneliness and cold heart beats each time the girl that you cannot stop thinking about crosses your mind? Is it familiar how it physically hurts when you see her? You can’t even utter a word because of the rage inside towards yourself for letting her in. “Why did she lead me on?” You ask. “Why did she exploit the vulnerable part of me that I hid so damn well?” You ponder out loudly. I have reached the end of the rope I have to move on and away. I am sure she will never return the love she “just can’t” so what am I to do?

They say that it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. Who said that? What were they thinking? They must have been high to come up with such garbage.

Loving and losing is not against the grain, everything in the long run degenerates into chaos. It is called entropy. That’s why death must do them apart otherwise toxicity levels will make them immortal foes. When someone shows me such malice I can’t be friends with them because there won’t be any goodwill. No good bits to cherish and live by. No hugs, kisses that are genuine. Just games, manipulation, arm twisting among a host of low politics that present men with slow death and wretchedness.

I choose life, everything else can go to the dogs. It’s not a matter of pride especially when it seems you have lost all of it. I’m quite astonished that I still have my high self-esteem despite it taking a beating on several occasions. I am bigger than my problems especially when they are not mine of the making. Don’t judge me yet, it’s not that I was a virgin to heartbreaks, there just has to be an acrimonious ending to something you once lived on.

Well, this lass with big eyes, black hair, black skin, well curved body and juicy lips came along. The kind that you would do anything to have your way with. The kind that you would beat men into a pulp for. One that you will move mountains to have her heart. One that you would embrace with the force of lightning and love of cupid. One that you would make love to like Poseidon the god, and his Amphitrite. My Juliet. She stood out.

The girl put signs out all over for me to go after her, which I did. Just as you would trick a monkey with a trail of bananas to its trap. Things looked well, chatting her up, making her laugh, and making plans with her. Her voice was crisp and candid. Her true beauty, her intelligence, was my aphrodisiac. Whenever she opened her mouth to speak, how she expressed herself or talked about something she liked, I was just short of ripping her clothes off and taking her like my Khaleesi.

I was many things to her; James Bond, Khal Drogo, Superman. Those orange shaped boobs, that peach-shaped, perfectly-formed curves and her aphrodisiacal aura are to date still immortalized in my mind. I have a mental monument of this sweet and amazing woman. Her patina blew my mind. Her perfume treated any cold I had. Damn, she was good! She threw me off my strongholds. I was in. Both feet. We sailed smooth on S.S. LOVE IN THE AIR. Rocking the world. It was an emotional high, I loved this girl. Then abruptly the ship lost its true north and strayed off course, we hit an iceberg. The vessel of my love began to capsize and in no time. It was to the depths from thence.

You must be wondering why…

I am lost at sea while I write this piece. Entropy had fast come aboard and played its part. Chaos was upon me while I was busy soaking in her sunshine. She woke up one day and told me she just could not be with me; she’s seeing someone else. I had many questions for myself, did I treat her wrong? Did I not love her right? Off she rode to school.

I struggled to face the new reality. Was it a facade? Was it a ploy devised by the devil himself to rally me away from the faith as I was a strong champion for Jesus? I’m still searching for my bearing. The seas are cold and devastating. I see her and I hate myself. I hate her. My close friends streamed in with their textbook consolations. “It will be okay, grow up, you are a man, grow a pair, let her go you will find another. It wasn’t meant to be.” Fuck those textbook advices! They should have been real with me and told me it’s going to rip out my guts and make me swallow and shit nails. But they are my friends nonetheless, they were there for me.

I had to let go, so I married the bottle. The classic way. Liquor was my new mistress. I imbibed her top shelf rum and vodka friends alongside her third-rate outlawed mates. I used to drink everything when sad, I am not racist so I can’t be ‘alcoholist’* to discriminate drinks. Well stupor after stupor I gave up and went to church, back to the faith. I by and large was able to crawl forward after swimming ashore. It took time. I had to face the world, her, and myself in the mirror. We met and told her it’s alright she can do what or who she wants. I play for a win only. Where I’m bound to lose I count my losses and call it a day. Who was I kidding? I was dying each day. But she wasn’t going to stop there. What she proposed blew the wind out of my goddamn sails figuratively since the ship was gone, down in Davy Jones Locker.

On a fine morning, as I sat up on the roof of our flat, taking in as much of the chilled breeze as I could. Meditating and energizing my spirit, my phone beeps. I am cut short from my morning moment when I was away back in time thinking about Gettysburg. Yes, I have a strong penchance for history especially governments, wars, espionage, inside jobs and economic crises and love affairs through time. I was in my element as I thought about how Robert Lee and Ulysses Grant threw men and each other’s throats as the confederate and union forces marched on each other to fight for their causes. The path to achieving a landmark win such as the end of slavery, is paved with casualties and broken souls. Sorry I digress, but there’s a connection; my children will learn of relationships of the 21st century and how they are full of good and bad. People rarely talk about the bad, the ugly. History plays a role, to teach, remind and empower. As the saying goes, there is nothing new under the sun. It’s her on the phone. The text reads: “I’ve been dating some guy for some time now, I didn’t know how to tell you because we are now such good
buddies and I knew it would bring problems. I still want you as a friend.” Bloody true, not the good buddies’ part but it indeed brought problems.

The problem with me is that I never settle. If it’s over, you don’t want me in your life, then a clean break is the best I can do. We can’t break bread and sip wine while our goals about each other are not in alignment. No sweetie, grow up. I don’t sit in the friend zone to be there for you while some chap is dwelling in you, as it were. I can bear the pain but if it won’t yield anything I want, then I have no time for useless things. I have learnt to see things through for what they really are even before they have begun. I have learnt that those who will leave you will. Those who will cheat will. You cannot do anything to stop or change them. It’s their inherent nature. So the lass eviscerated me, as lasses are known to do but I remained true to myself, I loved her but each time I embrace a hot young lass that I just met, I love her less. Each time burst a bubble of laughter and make merry with a fine princess talking all night about ‘Real Stuff’, I let go. That’s it. To get over someone you need to get over someone else so to speak. This one was a miss, I got plagued by short shortsightedness. I played and I lost.

Attack me for being liberal, true and unconventional. Malign me for being ‘selfish’. Throw stones, sling mud, threaten to kill my dog for I spare no rod. I don’t fit in those reinforced brackets some women have built to tame men. I am a bloody wildling, I work hard, I live, I eat, I drink(Water), I make love, yes I do and I love it. I enjoy life. Live it how you know best. Be loyal to those who are loyal. Destroy those that weaken your position. Not physically. Kill them with success and bury them with a smile. Above all else, know thyself.

I am friends with many people, men and women, boys and girls but none of
those ever suggested to me, or I to them, “let’s be friends”. We happened
and we love it. I will have their back till I die. ‘Let’s just be friends’ in more contexts than not, is an insult. An expression of despise. The proponents of that mild-seeming phrase can’t trust you with anything else. They would rather save a mouse in their house from a fire than you. You don’t suit their needs. Hold it! It doesn’t end there. What they also acknowledge is the potential you have, they see a young oak tree feeble, yes and delicate too but not less of an oak. They know one day you will rise, they see it more than you do, they see you on the throne, they see you commanding armies. They see people rejoice in approval for you. You suit their lives so much they get confused. The friend zone as a means to anything is a small boat for weak men. I ride on big ships.

So as you trim your eye-brows for the seemingly rich slab of beef with a small mind you are walking around with, know that I have purposed to make you regret leading me on, making a fool out of me, puncturing my heart and pissing on the love you may never find. But I forgive you, the girl who will take your place, don’t hate her or be jealous. What she will be to me would have been you, what we will be together, that would be us. I am not one to hold a grudge. Life will come around and you will not want me as an enemy. But as you do your thing, stop giving friendship a bad name.

I wish you well love!