The one who got away

Not long ago I broke up with my girlfriend, truth be told she asked some time off and it seems that is going to take forever. Being the man I am I didn’t see any legal obligations to this arrangement so walking away wouldn’t warrant a hefty law suit and if it ever does, I would listen carefully to the proceedings of the court and make a marvelous blog post about it or I would simply make it one of the laced stories over cheap beer. She was an exquisite woman, that much I can confess but every relationship has an ass. Don’t blame me for screwing up the relationship because as much as I tried I couldn’t screw it up. Who breaks the heart of a sweet beautiful girl anyway? (don’t snitch and say assholes because I hate when you are right). Long story short it is over-at least to me- and now I gotta move on.

My friends usually tell me to take some time off after relationships and do some soul searching so this time I took their advice. I looked back to the first barefoot, flat breasted lady I first thought was my girlfriend albeit till she realized I had spread the rumours to the recent almost model like Nyeri woman I had. Something looks loudly amiss, in fact a lot of things do. First, I have no taste in women. I have dated every type, shape, color, age and even size of head. I have said and gotten away with more relationship offenses than my cat has with stealing my omena. I have dated my parents’ friends daughters, my sister’s friends, my friends, my enemies, my schoolmates up to and including my desk mates but with them all I have been as elusive as the last piece of meat on a beggar’s plate. But of all this my favourite has been the church going patriots who after a life time in the oblivion of sin have suddenly ‘seen the light’ and hoped they would meet a perfect God loving man-read me. Woe to those who have ended in this situation because just like them I have perfect outlined principles, I don’t date from church. God only knows what drew this multitude to him.

I however want to single out my most important date. She wasn’t a priest’s daughter, or a palace princess but she was a lot of things to me when women were people to be feared. In my naiveté  I pondered on the difference between men and women and why a smile from Atis felt so good. I wondered why she squatted when she peed while I did it standing up. I asked meself why older ladies had protruding chests and why their voices remained mellow and sweet. I asked myself why this particular girl however, though just like the rest shone a light in my darkness. Then, I had no moves but when I learnt a few player moves I wished I would go back then but if I ever did I wouldn’t want to change a thing.

Atis was a lot of things to me. She was like a sister to me-back then a sister is the only person I knew I would let to play with my weeny even though my elder sis did it while bathing me. Atis had a smile that ensured every favour she asked of me got done. She was my partner in hide and seek and the times we hid nobody ever found us till the next day. She was the apple of my eye, nay now that I know what that means I’ll go with she was the light before my next tunnel. She carried my firewood (those who learnt in places I did understand that we were sent to bring firewood the next day by our teachers). She carried my eggs (literally) and I always preferred the cane so as not to miss the forest camp fire where we roasted our eggs and boiled a few in dirty water. That has always been the beauty of an egg no matter what you cook it in, it’s inside is safe from germs and sweet no less.  Atis made sure I took the cane like a man no matterr how crying felt the better idea. And whenever she found tears in my eyes she would wipe them away. She gave me my first kiss and told me that is what friends do when they like each other, now I know better.


When my friends wrote on sisal stems about our love I would adamantly deny this claims and call her names. She would sulk and I would beg for forgiveness and soothe her temper by sucking her index finger (my grandma told me it sucks the anger away). My nanny was quite the expert, she still is.

If I wrote about Atis I would go on and on and including the times we met when I went grazing the cows and she went to search for firewood how we would compete on who could climb the tallest trees. (She never had pants and my shorts were always torn beneath) Hers was the first female underwear I saw, it was black with white strips, nay it must have been white with black strips, who cares anyway what I saw I saw.

I wish I would meet Atis again even though we never had the chance to understand what we did that, sorry I meant I didn’t understand what we did back then, I would love to have a chance to do it all over again. But even if this chance ever comes along I don’t know how far we would go this time when I have been with all this women.

But whatever happens i pray she comes along, just one more time.


3 responses to “The one who got away

  1. Excellent story, very funny and interesting. I´m sure you´ll see Etis soon again. Kind regards and keep writing.

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