I Hate This Part

Your heart can’t stop beating. Like a kid devouring his first ice-cream and loving every minute.

It doesn’t get any better.


An inner voice tells you that he’s amazing. Awesome. Tick. Smart. Double Tick. Funny. Tick Tick Tick. Nice cologne. Tick. No weird passive-aggressive sexual jokes.

You know the type. A decent guy asks for your number but you’re hesitant and let him down gently. As you start walking away, he whispers loudly ‘Wacha kuringa ata hauja iva vizuri’.

Your guy is different.

You aren’t his next paycheck. He isn’t asking you to come over, cook, clean and keep him warm through the night. Tick.He doesn’t view feminists as sexually frustrated ticking bombs. Ladies craving a man’s touch so they can stop making noise over childish things like #MyDressMyChoice.

Floating on butterflies, sugar, spice and everything else. It just feels perfect. You just can’t help yourself. Your cheeks hurt from all the smiling since you are the sun. Radiating all over the office. You have paused your resignation plans since he could be the one.

It depends on how you let him tune you. He can lead. You can give suggestions.

Lots of witty jokes keep passing you by. Usually, your sarcasm can cut through an iceberg.

Guys have recoiled in shock and terror hoping to never cross you again. They can smell that Nyeri blood fire in you. It rains hotter than anything else. It’s in your spirit.  You just say it. Someone comments that you have zero chills. However, you don’t care and you love your fiery spirit.

He passes by your desk, says hi and makes a joke.

You end up laughing with him just like all the other girls that you pity. Girls whose eyes glaze over whenever they talk about their boyfriend treating them like a princess and acting right. Lots of other girls are laughing, blushing when he’s cheeky and conveniently forgetting their convictions.

It can’t be helped since he’s that guy.

You have a huge crush on him and you just can’t wait for it to end. It’s not fun feeling like a romantic idiot. You want to end the madness behind your eyes. Teasing you that everything that glitters is made of gold. Life is full of rainbows and butterflies. It’s a lie but you can’t help going through the motions.

One day, as you hammer out that questionable yet pressing report on your desktop, you overhear

‘Women belong in the kitchen or in the bedroom.’

You ear immediately glows hot red and you scan the room. Wondering how any man can still think like that plus mentally noting whom his friends are.

It’s him.

His presence is no longer messing with your psyche. The veil has been lifted.

You breathe out in relief, face into the sky and thank God that the madness is over.


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