Wednesday, 17 February 2016

#UgBlogWeek You Just Weren't Mine

The day hadn't made up it's mind. The sky was retiring but the blaring sun heat could still be felt so fresh on the skin. The breeze was hot. But it was nothing. I had been through worse. In the pearl of Africa, well, what's left of it, you learn to make do with any situation. There were beads of perspiration on my forehead but that was it. I could feel something great lay ahead.

I turned my head through an angle just like Miles Teller would after seeing Mila Kunis in the corner of his eye. It was now clear why the sun was relentless. My eyes met with you. I wasn't the only one looking. But you were too cool to care. You were the Ivy league while I on the other hand, was a make doer. I wanted you. But you weren't mine.

There you were! So taken up by your phone. It was clearly a "No Boys Allowed" zone. I didn't care. You were nodding away to the sound from your earphones in a fashion unfamiliar to my circles. Urban! We would call it. I knew you wouldn't fall for my kind. I had to step up. You wouldn't settle for a man with a wardrobe of loafers and a lineup of polos. I wanted you but you weren't for me.

Then, you came to me. You became mine. You changed me. No, wait! You saved me. I had wanted you. I had stepped up. I had you. I became a man of the cravat and the boutonniere. If sophistication was the aisle, I would walk you down. Like cheese for a mouse, you fell for the trap. If Paradise was the tunewe would play it cold. For God so loved me that He sent down one of the finest for me. We were acquaintances. Our association was the propelling force of a phoenix. What you did. I did. If it's rising through life, you were behind the wheel of the Wrangler, and I, your designated navigator. I hit the drums. You blessed the world with your vocal prowess. I did the Sam. You did the Sophie Gombya. You were mine! Yes, you were.

But not for long.

Old habits do really die hard. The old me began to resurface. I hate to think it was your doing. Did we get complacent? Was it just destiny? Maybe I did the Rema. You were on your Chris Evans. You were aiming for the stars. I was glad to be on clouds. The staircase still had rounds of flights for you and I was dead weight. I took you for granted. I never understood your aspirations.

I convinced myself to let you go. You maintained your standards. I was afraid I had lost myself in you. I had to rediscover myself. Jeans and loafers had suddenly come back to my wardrobe. Suddenly, you were out of the door as easily as you walked in. You weren't mine then. You weren't mine now. You just weren't mine.