LOVE BINDS. PART ONE

Growing up in a family never short of love helped me develop into a man embraced and loved by society. Being an only child is all that it is summed up to be, and more. I had all the latest gadgets, hung out with all the “cool kids” and I belonged; I was a somebody, yet somehow I didn’t quite feel that way.

Some ladies openly stated, ‘Any girl would love to have you in their life’, yet the question still remained, why was I still single as the coldest months of June and July approached?

My trouble with the ladies dates back to when I was a teen. They all seemed to like me, but were never willing to claim me.

Spreading rumours was the norm in my neighbourhood but it never caught up or related to me. Was my name bad for rumours? Was it a spell that needed machine gun prayers and tongues or did I need to contact a Sangoma from a Sangwapo advertisement?

With Beyoncé and Jay-z’s song ‘Upgrade You’, came a direct answer from God of my promised land of plenty ladies on both arms breaking all protocol to be with me.

For this I was ready to be selfish. So, I drafted a personal constitution which ushered me into the world of Nike shoes, Air force 1s and 23s, all in the name of finding my own to claim.  Neighbourhood walks with pants sagging while listening to Lil Wayne were a farce; we all knew we didn’t live the life he rapped about. Therefore Kmillion’s breath-taking love songs were better and made me feel like I had someone out there ready to claim me. 

My parents never let it slide; my mother was convinced only the Grace of God held up my sagging trousers and my father was always complaining about the cost of the Nike brand. My teen time was so bad that I became a “G” - whatever that meant those days.

I was a bitter character on the outside but I had so much love on the inside. I spoke out against relationships and ladies in general until I met Mwiinga.

She was the young girl with the sweet smile who would later be known as my first ex-girlfriend. She was one in a million with a good figure and the kind of chest I liked. She had it all.

I actually reached the point where I enjoyed watching her sleep. Loving her made me question if I really knew myself because all was happening so fast.

During one of our many epic post coital pillow talks, she confessed that she had slept with at least 12 guys.

12. ‘Wasn’t that the number of Jesus Christ’s disciples?!’ I thought.

Since I didn’t want to destroy the moment I smiled and nodded and held her close to my chest but the number was stuck in my head. 12. Round two was about to happen so I answered softly, “Its ok, baby. Everybody has a past.”

Round two incited a marathon that ended in a puddle of sweat but the thought of the number 12 almost gave me a heart attack.

We were young, when had she met all these twelve people!? Who was better? Did she think about them when she was with me? Were they older?

The thought of another man touching Mwiinga almost made me leave her but thoughts of no one claiming me when I was a teenager made me stay. I couldn’t think of letting her go because of the many times I was knocked out by the cold in the months of June and July.

Love, whatever it is, tends to transform situations; but the fact that it made me blind to the number 12 is a something I will never forgive myself for.

I hummed love songs while awaiting another marathon with Mwiinga and hypnotised myself into thinking it didn’t matter. Shockingly, at the mention of her name, I developed goose bumps, I thought I liked her, no, I thought I loved her.

I was going to tell her about my newly discovered feelings on the night of our two ‘monthversary’. Girls make us celebrate such things.

Two months was great for someone who had spent a little more than two decades single and surrounded by couples. I was waiting for her and she said she would be late because she had a church meeting. These church meetings were becoming a recurring theme. All of a sudden she had a rosary to take off before our shenanigans. No real reason was given for her sudden change and I had no real feelings about it.

Religion is personal. ‘Revelations’ were personal. Church seemed like an okay thing. My parents constantly told me how they met at bible school and they raised me, so I had no issues with church. My mother was going to love that Mwiinga was a woman of faith when I finally introduced them.

When Mwiinga arrived all thoughts evaporated and we found comfort in each other’s arms. My body was already anticipating the Friday marathon. I tried to lead her to the bedroom and she kept surprising me with delaying tactics…at two months? I was sure we were beyond delaying tactics by now.

When I touched her, her body was rigid, that’s how I knew something was wrong. She sat on the couch opposite me as if we were strangers. 

Moments of silence had invaded our ever blazing Friday night marathons as we disintegrated from lovers to strangers. My lips felt strange as I slowly whispered the most sentimental sentence in the world, “I love you,”

She stared, as a long moment of silence invaded us. Finally, she spoke and said,

“I gave my life to God and today is my last day with you”.

Damn!! Why didn’t I see that coming!?

I tried to negotiate by stating that I was also giving my life to God but it all fell on deaf ears. There was no negotiation; she stood up, asked for my phone and deleted her number before walking away.

Hell broke loose and I didn’t even have the devil’s number