Routine is a bad thing. My bet is
that even though it has streamlined all my adult life, it has also made it
kinda boring. This new chapter of my life decrees that I do things differently.
My mother says that I have a love relationship with my diaries and she is very
curious as to what I write in there, almost every day. She doesn’t understand
how I can have something new to write about, everyday!
So this last weekend, I got all
my diaries out and started reading through my past entries. This was very
emotional for me, because it was almost like re-living my life all over again.
The diaries took me back a long
time. They contained details of my first girl crush, Alice…and wasn’t she
pretty. She had these cute dimples and the sweetest smile. I hear she works for
Emirates Airlines now as an air hostess. I laughed at entries of my fantasies
with her, how I salivated at the thought of kissing her soft lips and feeling
her warm body next to mine. My cowardly self was never able to tell her how I
felt, and when she finally cleared her fourth form when I was in my third, I
could only follow her progress briefly before she disappeared, on LinkedIn.
After Alice, there was Thelma,
who was the first girl I ever kissed. Yaani, I had it so bad for Thelma, I
would tremble when she touched me, even slightly or absently. Thelma was the
estate tomboy and it was an open secret that we were an item. She would hang
out with the boys, and play basketball with them and I would watch them play in
the evenings.
Later, we would go over to their
house and after cleaning up, we would go sit at the back on the staircase and
she would do wonderful things to me! I especially got on the thought that
whatever we were doing was in public and this only made the thrill hotter. Then
we would go get naked in her room we would make love, then she would escort me
home. This was our routine almost every day, and I remember I would be so wet
for her by the time evening came, my body was used to the clock work.
Thelma was my first love, and it
took me almost a year of mourning and sulking, when she had to leave for the US
for further studies. We were in constant touch during that first year, but the
emails, chats and phone calls gradually reduced and finally ground to a halt.
It was time we both moved on anyway.
Then came the person who has
filled my diaries for almost eight years. With this girl, we had our life all
planned out…the white picket fence house, a family dog and two kids, and a
happily ever after. The eight years we were ‘married’ were filled with both
very happy times and very low, very low moments. We did it all, except travel
the world together and have babies, which is the project we were working on
when my world crumbled around me.
The last three years have been
the worst, I feared we were actually living the lesbian death bed theory! We
both made our mistakes, I got really busy at work, she started having one
affair after another one and I was STILL holding on. I attempted to move on,
but we were like a see-saw and we would end up in bed together, having angry
sex, and then gradually making passionate love. It was like a drug.
My diaries filled up quickly during
this time, and I frequented home more often. Mum would see I was troubled, but
I guess she never knew how to ask what was wrong, but it made me feel better
just being near her anyway.
My relationship then just died a
natural death. I had become sick and tired of the lies and the attitude and the
‘don’t care attitude’ that we had both adopted and played so well. Then I
realized, while I was hurting with bitterness and anger, she was having her fun
with her random girlfriends and chips
fungas, I was just cramping her style and crowding her space.
So we finally had a sit down and
decided to just part ways and move on. But we also both agreed that we both had
this feeling that we may actually end up getting back together after God knows
how long because we were sort of attached to each other. Heck, maybe it was
separation anxiety.
So anyway, I tore up all my
eleven diaries...yes, 11! It was sort of therapeutic coz it was like I was
letting go of the past, past hurt, heartache, sadness, but also the good moments
that were probably the reason why I was stubbornly holding on to a relationship
that was septic for me.
We have gotten naughty a couple
of times after the separation and torn at each other’s clothes for a night of
passion….see, that’s why I say, we are either bewitched, or we have become each
other’s tempestuous addiction. The last one I remember, she had come to my
place to drop off my books that I had left behind at her house. She got
comfortable in the house, we talked, watched a movie and it was way past
9.30pm. It was settled that she would just crash at my place.
So we eventually got to bed, and
like clockwork, we snuggled close and intertwined our legs like we had always
done before…a position I absolutely love coz it so cozy. More so, it’s warm…and
because it always turned her on…my thighs all over hers. So this night, it
wasn’t any different. I noticed her breathing had changed, and she pulled me
closer, her hands found their way to my back, then to my breasts and before we
could stop to think, we were mourning to our lovemaking. Next morning, I was
trying not to do a walk of shame out of bed, but I was like, what the heck…I
got needs, we got compromised and damn, the sex was good!
I guess then I am still cleaning
out my closet, but I keep going back in for old time’s sake. Now that I got rid
of my diaries, I may as well transfer my thoughts on the blog and share with
the world…that way, my thoughts and experiences will not just be my own.
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