Love and Orgasms

Well. Hi.
I come here when I feel like I need to express myself. When I need to say something I can’t say to anyone else maybe because they don’t listen or I’m not getting the reaction I need.  Maybe even solutions.

I’m just going on an emotional rollercoaster and, I don’t know.
This is the reason I started this blog. To say what I feel. To tell my stories even if just subliminally.

I know it might make me look weak, or defeated. But I’m just a girl. I crumble sometimes. I cry a lot when I can’t handle it all. So I write, especially when music doesn’t work…

I know putting myself out there means I need to be ready to receive criticism. I know I don’t match to everyone’s standards. Be they of beauty, intellect or even just my way of sharing my experiences with you guys on here. It’s okay.

I’ve had people talk the worst about me.

You know, it’s funny how all this is starting to affect me emotionally because normally I don’t care. But maybe it’s because of everything I’m going through right now. I’m so used to building walls and shutting pain out. I guess I’m running out of concrete.

Well I just recently lost someone I didn’t think I’d end up loving as much as I do.
I’m not looking for empathy or an explanation, but I wish I had a reset button.
I will probably regret publishing this for all of you to read, but I don’t care anymore. I’m just tired of talking to people about it. Mainly because I don’t think anyone understands.

I’m disappointed in myself because I’m one to move on quite fast, but I’ve failed. I’m unable to ‘ just move on and forget about him’ like my closest friends constantly advice.

This is where I decipher the ‘How I met my husband’ series for you guys as promised.  Only because the man who was initially to be my happy ending as I was writing part 4 was to be Mark, and shit didn’t play out that way.

Many of my readers were angry at my ending, but you guys didn’t know that I was actually writing as my experiences progressed and unfolded. That’s why I’d take months without updating, but I’m happy you guys were patient and constantly encouraged me to write as you needed to read what happened next.

All my characters exist. Down to Jimmy in part 6. 😂😂
Their names are slightly altered to protect their identities and privacy but I have permission to share as much without compromising their rights.
They read my blogs and it’s been an emotional turmoil whereby they learnt my exact true feelings from this. Things I couldn’t say to them, I put in a story.

I will not say which segment is untrue, just to keep the story juicy for those who haven’t read it yet and also in case I decide to do a follow up post, but I can confirm that the story is as about as relevant to my personal experience as it gets.

The ending changed last minute because, as I said earlier, I lost ‘Mark’.

It’s hard because I blame myself. Everyday. Maybe I gave up too soon. Maybe I should have believed in him more.
Maybe I shouldn’t have shut him out when he needed me there for him.

I’m not about to air his differences and mine here, but maybe if I told you guys what magnitude of emotion I put into my blogs, you’ll read them with the relatability they need.
For people to question my credibility as if what I go through needs vetting is damn near disgusting.
I read all the nasty comments as well. Some shredded to the fact that I’m a female, others to the fact that I’m just a child and so what experience guarantees that I can thrill a reader with much more experience in all matters sex.
These are the times I would confide in Mark and he would tell me how he wished I could see myself through his eyes. How perfect I am to him…
I’m a work in progress. l learn from my mistakes everyday.

Writing is my therapy. I hope this salvages my frail heart from what it is encountering, but I must say, I feel an ounce of relief sharing this.
I’ll laugh on the outside, but at the end of the day I’ll go home to myself. Replay instances where I fell short of being what he needed instead of what I was in my head…
I think about Kyle as well. I wonder if this is how he feels about me…

In short, the whole story is inspired by my real life story that’s been unfolding over these last couple of years…

It’s sad it ended the way it did.
In another life I’d be happy with Mark.  But maybe it’s all for a good cause. Maybe our chakras aren’t as aligned.

Maybe I need this pain to steer me to something that’s better for me.
That’s me trying to be optimistic amidst tears.
Do you think I’m being too hard on myself by blaming myself?

I’m not afraid to say what I feel. Neither an ego from here to Timbuktu nor the fear of looking desperate shall stop me from trying to get what I want.

Sadly I’ve stopped. I’ve given up and started to move on.
It’s only because the effort wasn’t mutual and I have no strength to fight a losing battle. He said I was damaged and I need to fix myself.
Maybe…

Thank you guys for the support and love throughout all this.
Thanks for the views, shares, messages and even concern on my recent breakup with Mark.
My models💜💜
My friends, and strangers who religiously messaged me for spoilers.
It might be a young blog that others ignore or laugh about, but I’m just happy about this.

I appreciate the mean reviews as well cuz hey, I’ve got you reading and hating. That’s as much effort as the bobbiebom fans are putting into this.

I love you guys.

And one last thing, it’s okay to cry. It’s okay.

Xx.

I ran out of the ball
I know you might think I’m echoing the Cinderella story, but I’m not.
No, my slipper wasn’t that of glass.

I ran.
Straight into the parking lot and started looking for the chauffeur. I was going to Kitengela to save my marriage. To beg the father of my child to make things right between us.
I had to get there before the news of my engagement got to him.

I had said yes to Kyle. But only to avoid embarrassing him. It was subconscious. I ran out right after he put that 7carat diamond ring on my finger. I recognised the ring because I’d one time hinted at how nice it would feel to own it.

All this time I was trying to think of ways I could have my cake and eat it. Get the money and still keep the love of my life.

Because Mark showed me a passion so igniting. And his head game?
Well I know you guys know Kyle was good. But with Mark, it was different.

Plus Kyle has HIV. No way I’m letting that man near me sexually. I had been lucky enough to escape the jaws of eternal condemnation.

“Yo Brian, where’s Mark?” I asked his best friend immediately I got to the party. No time for small talk. I needed to make sure he heard the news from the horse’s mouth.

I had changed into jeans as I had passed home to breastfeed. I needed the benefit of comfortability.

The place was swarming with half drunk grown ups. Everyone was staring.
Bloody tell me where my husband is!! The 7 carat bling overshadowing my wedding band.

And then Mark walked in. His normally jovial face, masked with anger. Grief. Disappointment, or maybe he was just drunk.
He passed me on the patio and went straight into the house saying hi to everyone else.
Here we go again. A bout of man moods.

I waited for him. He came out, drink in hand.
God knows I love the liquor breath on my man. I was leaning on a car.
I pulled him to myself. He signaled that we sit.

“Mark baby we need to talk. You need to listen so we can sort. I have shocking but amazing news. I’ve landed a gold mine.”

“No Robin. I’m drunk. I didn’t come here to talk. I came here for Jansen’s party, not to have a couple’s conversation.”

This was going to be difficult. Dealing with his dismissive nature was mentally exhausting.
All these years but this man still gave my nerve endings an awakening. Breath on breath. I was craving his lips. I was tired of the fighting. Maybe Kyle’s fortune was what would save us. I pulled him to Jimmy’s car.

We got in. My real intention was to tell him what I had done and what I wanted.  But, you know sometimes you just cannot explain the sexual power surges that go through your veins. I was on top of him,  our crotches in a slight dalliance, kissing my man vehemently. Mine. My man.

The whiskey I was drowning myself in on my way to Kitengela was kicking in.

Lip biting.
It was just like the first time.

Three seconds into conversation and chill and my top was off.

Oh Mark you just get me!!

I was nibbling on his neck how he loved it and nothing at that time gave me more satisfaction than hearing his whimpers. His rapid breathing, blood was definitely gushing to the right places.

All this while he was grabbing my ass and taking off my pants.
Have you had angry sex before in a friend’s car at a party with everyone else looking in on you but you don’t care?
The thrill of the forbidden fruit…

And the riding began. I felt like I was feeding my heart. Looking right into his eyes as he let my name out in low voiced moans.
He occasionally bickered about how I needed to get off him and stop.

Hell nah. I needed to show him what he was going to miss in on if he continued to drift off.
I mean, I was willing to overlook his shortcomings. I was willing to forgive him and build our love a fresh.

We switched and he was now on top of me.
Jimmy came to the car to get more drinks but that didn’t stop us. It was practically an open show for those who unintentionally came to the car only to find us.
We didn’t care.

Sweet love making. Slow thrusts with precise grabbing. And then he stopped to eat me out.

Jeso!
This tongue. This tongue was made for me.
And we were back at it.
My head was practically out the other side of the car but we didn’t care. And with each stroke I was letting out loud moans and this excited him more.

And then he stopped. He just stopped and ordered me to dress up.
What?
Please usiwai fanyia mschana ii ujinga. Smh. How do you stop someone mid-sex??

“I came to this party to have fun. Not to hang out in a car and waste time with you. If I wanted that I’d have stayed home. This is not talking. Let us talk since you wanted to so bad, I’ve got a few things I need to say as well…”

I tried to seduce him into continuing but he was done.

“Mark I have tried so hard. I’ve ran out of ways to keep us together. I just need your final decision. Tell me. Do you want this? Do you still love me? I don’t care about what you’ve done, I just need to know if we’re together or getting divorced. I’m tired…”

He cut me off. He assured me that he loved me, but was in a dilemma. Naturally I asked and his response dried my pussy in an instant.

“Shanice is pregnant,” he said.

“Yeah, so what? Good for her. What does that have to do with our marriage?”

I was playing coy but I knew what he was going to say.

“I’m responsible. I got her pregnant. I’m sorry, you know I love you with all my heart, but I need time. I need to think about things. I need to know as well if you’ll wait till I can sort this out.”

What do you mean sort this out? You’re my husband. An array of thoughts were now tormenting my mind.
An abortion was the only way to sort it out, until I found out that she was due in a month’s time.
Shanice was Mark’s colleague and old time friend.

It doesn’t end there. He went on to rumble about how he was in love with another. Stephanie if I’m not wrong, and that’s where I had had it!
Stephanie? The girl he constantly denied ever having an affair with. It all brewed under my nose. I should have smelt it.
He would constantly go on trips with her. They were friends, plus she was married. I trusted him.
😢
Everything he said after that is still a blurr. I dressed up, went into the house where everyone was giggling, far from the brink of sobriety. Maybe it was because I had only one shoe on and my hair was a mess from the car action. I got a few shots and decided I was leaving. Everything was just too much to take in all at once.

I went back to get my shoe and when he sarcastically congratulated me on my engagement, I told him to expect divorce papers in a week’s time, that I would be happy if he signed.
I took off my wedding ring and handed it to him.
I had lost the will to fight and it was the last he would see of me in person.
How do I fight for a man who was giving up on me? At the expense of our marriage and child? A man who was handing out semen like it was sweets at a party.

The pain. My tears.
Stephanie? Shanice? I was done.

                 ~a month later~                 

I’m standing on this altar looking upon all my guests. I have an expensive dress on. An expensive ring on. An extravagant life ahead. A sickly Kyle by my side. A huge smile on my face, but immense grief in my heart.

Shanice was giving birth on the same day I was getting married to Kyle.

It’s okay.
I was doing this for my child’s future. I was doing this to secure my financial needs as well as Mark’s but he didn’t see it.  I consoled myself.

I cannot be miserably heartbroken as well as broke. I needed to pick a struggle.

Kyle would soon die and I would wipe my tears away with Louis Vuitton handkerchiefs. It was better than fighting with Mark in an apartment I was struggling to pay for. Or was it?

It’s okay. We can’t have it all.
I hope you are happy Mark.
I hope Shanice is what you really wanted. Sorry, I mean Stephanie.

I have met my husband, and it was never you.

I arrived at the Annual Presidential Ball at around 7pm. Everyone else was already seated and the dinner had commenced. I skipped the red carpet because I wanted little or no recognition in the tabloids. I had only one agenda to fulfil and as soon as I was done, I would leave.

Kyle had instructed his chauffeur to pick me up. With a ready assembled outfit as usual.
He always sent me what to wear any time we planned to meet at sophisticated events. Also, he generally loved showering me with gifts.
I’m not quite sure if it was my attire he abhorred or the latter, but I never asked.

By 6pm that evening, I was enroute to The State House, which was the venue for this ball.
I know I never learn. But this time I needed to reconcile with him. I needed it all to auger well with my soul, plus he was a walking time bomb. I believe he was approaching his final stages of AIDS. But he was a strong man, a strong man who I loved still. A strong man who worshipped the ground I walked on, and so, naturally, I was his plus one for the night.

I took my phone to check if Mark had tried to call me. Nothing.
I checked my messages. Nothing. This man!
I called him but it went straight to voicemail. I left him a message saying that I missed him and that I loved him. I told him I had gone out and thus would be getting very drunk.
I told him that I was aware he was ignoring me, but I would still text him each hour as well as attempt to call him.
Mark hadn’t come home for a week now. But I could see on his social media that he was having fun. All that I needed to know was that he was alive.

It had been well over two years since I had seen Kyle. Since our little situation with Mark in the private alley when he found us engaging in some fleshy action. Mark was his best friend. I had betrayed him. But here I was, conforming to his invites, again.

The hall was magnificent. I was in the presence of dignitaries and the ‘have it alls’ of the country. Models, celebrities, the elite. Kyle had in vain tried to make me get accustomed to this life, but I was contented with my not-so-glamorous life.
It had been a rough five years since the first time I laid my eyes on Kyle and on this night, as he was walking towards me, I started reminiscing.
It all quickly flashed before my eyes, the trips abroad, the love he showed me, the way he still opened doors,pulled chairs and introduced me as his wife.

And the night Olive had us at gun point. The night she blew her brains out in close range. How could I forget that night. The night my heart was shattered into myriads of pieces. The first time Kyle had made sweet love to me. The night I found out he was HIV positive.

He was definitely looking sickly. A frame of what he used to be. A caricature of the Kyle I once knew. My Kyle.
Damn, money makes people look good though. Other than the weight loss, this man was still sharper than any man in sight.

“Hey, are you okay?” He beckoned.
I immediately snapped out of my stupor as he led me to our seats.
‘You look as beautiful as I could ever imagine. I had missed you my love…”

My love? I couldn’t speak. I was so overwhelmed with emotion.

He was in a red coat. His outfit complimented mine as I was in black with a red lip.
Elegance.
He always had his suits custom made. I could go on, but Kyle was looking very good.
His cologne wafted and lingered. I had missed him.

After the meal and speeches, the ball was set rolling and masqueraded couples were poured onto the open space for the routine fox trot and waltz.

“Will you dance with me?” he asked me, holding his hand out, expecting me to hold it in return.

“Wait, Kyle, we need to talk. I need to apologise for what I did. I need to explain to you what happened between Mark and I, you need to know why I left you…”
He hushed me. Signaling that it was okay. That he didn’t need to hear about Mark.

No. This is not how it was supposed to go. He needed to know. I was only here to talk and leave. I reckoned that since he had reached out, I owed it to him to be there.

I agreed.

We walked over to where people were dancing and we began. I was familiar with these routines. A fox trot ensued.

“Baby, the day you walked out of my life, you killed me. But I’m glad you came today. I was afraid you wouldn’t as you have religiously been ignoring my advances. I was praying you would come.” He continued. “I wanted to let you know that you are in my will. All of my fortune is in your name. Everything!”
I gasped, “what?”… He hushed me again.

“Darling I just need you to listen. You and my sons are my sole heirs. We both know that my time here is limited and if you cannot be with me forever, then I need you to be with my sons. I love you. I forgive you.”

This wasn’t the time to be giving me such revelations.
My mind was in turmoil. And just then, Mark’s message came through. I was holding my phone so reflexively, I checked to read.

I’m at a party in Kitengela. At the Jansen mansion. Come if you want us to talk.

A clear finality in the text. No enthusiasm whatsoever. All from the man I married.

Kyle saw it. But he didn’t care. He calmly asked me to put my phone away and almost instantly started to go down on one knee. An egocentric smirk on his face almost as if to laugh at the mere thought that I could actually go to my jobless husband and leave him.

My chest!

No. Don’t do this Kyle. Don’t.
The band stopped. The crowd dispersed. The spotlight was turned on us.

“All I’ve told you is on one condition. You denounce your affiliations to that bastard Mark, you take this ring and become my wife and hence the rightful owner of my estate. So what do you say?”

And my phone started buzzing. It was Mark calling.

Mark and I had been encountering problems in our marriage.
Soon after I gave birth, he was already seeing other women. He was over indulging in promiscuity and drugs. He had recently lost his job and our lives were crumbling.
The financial strain was getting to us.

Mark would never afford or rather offer me such a ring.
We had a lavish life. But not half as classy as the one Kyle was offering me.

I was trying so hard to salvage him. I was trying to save our marriage and look past all the dishonour but here was Kyle, offering me a second chance at life on a silver platter. I was conflicted.

I was battling with logic and rationalism. Love or wealth?

My phone buzzed again.

“Robin, will you marry me?”

Utter silence except for the buzzing of my phone and the loud piercing glares from the now eager AF audience.

Was I going to say no to this man in front of all these people?
On national TV? In the presence of the president? Nah fam. I’m savage, but I’m not stupid.

Ok wait, I’m stupid. I forgot the press was here.
There goes my discretion. So much for avoiding the red carpet.
Oh shit. Mark?

No. He possibly couldn’t be watching the telly at a party. Or could he?
Naaah. People don’t watch the TV at parties. Plus I had my masquerade mask on.

He signaled for the mic to be handed over to him.

“Robin, my love. Will you marry me?”

Yeah. Bastard had to call out my name. Way to go Kyle! Way to go!! -_-

As if I hadn’t heard him the first a thousand times pre-mic.

That ring was the most beautiful thing I had laid my eyes on.

I just stood there.
My phone buzzed again.
It was Mark.

Intuition?

Yeah. Coincidence maybe.
I don’t think I’d sense if a bitch was somewhere proposing to my man.

I picked the call.

Sometimes you’re busy going about your life, enjoying the hoe situations and then the devil decides,
‘No, you are too happy, let me send you a thing called emotions.’

Before I go on, let me put a disclaimer because niggas and hoes might get butt hurt. Insolent fools will be quick to dub me a feminist because I frequently use men as my example. Well, most times, it is the male species I am inclined to date. Others will just hate cuz I probably get checked out by their men.
Women are petty bruh!
But you know what??  My farm of fucks stopped reproducing. Sold it about a week ago. A week ago.
(Did you read that in your Bobby Shmurda voice?)
This is strictly not aimed towards anyone. But if the shoe fits…

Fureni ni ka nimewakulisha baking soda.
Pekin Sora I gat pekin Sora.

This is to everyone. Girls as well as boys. Everyone!!
I’m not angry, neither am I on my periods as I write this.
Actually I’m kushing with the boys. So you can imagine how chilled I am. Kila kitu iko in slow motion brathe!!

Sorry, I’ll change my tone, darling bobbiebom readers, fans and critiques.
Forgive my sarcasm and profanity in advance though.

So I’ll go on.

You are just minding your business, enjoying the hoe life or even being a celibate earthling. And then you are approached.
Mtu anaanza upuzi za how they feel you. And they even start working towards cuffing you.

OK.
If you are like me, you will take time before you go out with this person. Evaluate your priorities. Weigh between whether you want to get fucked or go on with your wanking streak. Or if you are ready to leave the house on occasion and wear clothes so you can go see your baby for ice cream dates. As opposed to YouTubing while naked. Alone. Enjoying your ‘me time’.
It’s a hard decision I tell you!

Mafeelings na relationships sio kalongolongo.
It’s commitment. Trust. Love. Respect. Blah blah blah. Si mnajua izo takataka zote.
God knows I love izo takataka 🙂

OK. So this person coerces you. Your heart starts getting that tingly feeling each time you see or hear from them.
Ati sijui oooh, moyo inadunda dududu. Forgive my ngeli. Ile mi najua ni ya genge pekee.
You know it? That kafeeling?
That’s common sense leaving your body.

Remember that you had NO romantic feelings towards this person. You were okay. In fact , you were relishing in the pit of your own company. No nyef nyefs za mapenzi. They bring themselves. They become part of your life. Now you love them.

Lakini kunakuanga na kaushetani kauingia mtu mmoja. Uyo mtu anaona ni fun akitryzex mchezo wa shika pata potea na emotions zako.

This breed is scavenger-patient. They wait even for months on end. And my oh my don’t they possess a sweet tongue. They will tell you everything you need to hear. They will be there for you.

All this in a bid to prove their ‘feelings’ to you.
It’s only a matter of time before you start to reciprocate these love waves. So you decide to tell your hoes that umepata mshikaji and you are focusing on them. No side pieces for a while. The situation is exciting. You can already imagine yourself doing all those stupid things couples do for the gram and Snapchat

Focus.
At this point, the girls are willing to panua their legs for the lying boys gymnastics style.
In the case of boys, they are willing to spend their pocket money savings (that mommy gave them), on the lying girls.
Sad eh?
Haha lakini girls are evil eh. Women have learnt the game and sadly, they are overtaking the male species in deceitful valour.
(I’m restricting this to my age group ju watu wazee waliacha kuomba mummy pesa)

Oh. The moment you copulate, home ground!
Sometimes it doesn’t even get to coitus.
And then the loser who made you fall in love with them ‘anaanza kuboeka’. For lack of better words.

They stop replying texts. They avoid you. They detach. They become busy. They always have excuses. They lie. Umonkey tu mob.
No reason. No explanation. No apologies or honesty. Just lies.

What I know is, when someone loves you and wants to be with you and they know you feel the same, nothing will stop them. They will work towards and fight for you. Ata ka alikua na Jack na Catherine kwa Titanic, ataswim akuje akupende, ata postpone death.

Mara alivunjika mguu akiwatch TV. Sijui oooh, Mara alinyoa nywele yote ndio maana hawezi kukutext all day. Ama mdame wako akushoo yeh ni lesbian…

Alafu atakugeuzia akusho ni ju haumtrust. Rich!

Schupidd.

But Snapchat, ako tu na malightskin, hepiii!!. Au ukimwona anakatia tu watu wengine mbele yako ndio uskie kimnatho. (Other word for kuskia kiwaru)
Be careful not to catch HIV trying to make someone who doesn’t care jealous.
They start going steady with the person they told you not to worry about when y’all were together.

So you start contemplating suicide.
Oh, I jumped the gun?? Too soon!? JK.

Hahhha. Okay. No suicide. So you get hurt because you are now in love with this person. What do you do ?

You dumped your hoes.
You just want what they promised you. Love and exclusivity because hey! You’ve sacrificed a lot for this. Right?
But they don’t care.
I insist. You love this person.
You probably went against people’s warnings about them. You had their back. You shunned their past mistakes. You forgave. Because you love them.

At this juncture, they start what I call ‘the madharau phenomenon’

Utaanza kulengwa budah. Blue ticks kama mlologongo wa siafu. Ukisema ‘I love you’ unajibiwa ‘okay’. Ole wako kama you have many mutual friends. This guarantees that you shall be around each other most of the time.
They might even go as far as being suggestive with your friends of a different gender from theirs.
Eh, aki si nastruggle kukua neutral. But inabidi ju staki kuitwa feminist. Na staki waschana wafure. Kumwagiwa acid haikai fun. Plus this face is my money.

So you find yourself in awkward situations. I won’t even expound on the heartbreaking pain, tears, sleepless nights, binging on food and drugs, exclusion etc. Idk how you deal with pain.
You start feeling like you have a problem. Maybe your dick was too small for her, or maybe your pussy was shit to him. Or maybe you aren’t curvy enough, or you’re too fat, or you are such a short man, or maybe her ex had a better car than yours. Hell, maybe you have no car. All your insecurities find a haven at the top of your mind and heart. It’s painful.

I feel like if you’re the jerk that does this to someone, at least let them know why you’re curving them. Ata ka ni mdomo yake hunuka. Just fucking say, ah!

I’d just like to know. When you decide to string someone along, especially after using your precious time to bag them, or use them in whatever way, what’s normally going through your mind??
What steriods is your hate on?
How do you patiently wait to get someone then bail?
(email me answers on [email protected]) cuz I swear on my life I just don’t get it.

So now what next after? The victim is expected to just heal and move on? Be your friend? Text you? Oh. I forgot you won’t reply. Haha.
Oh. Kwani ni brikicho?

Maze.
Ii generation hunibo.
Si tukue tu honest. Say what you want before you send mixed signals. Make shit clear!!!
I know many people relate to this. And I’m sorry you had to go through anything of this sort. Just thank God it all didn’t get too far.
Also, humans with such malignant tendencies DO NOT DESERVE YOUR BEAUTIFUL HEART.
It’s okay.

Watu wanasema Robertta Bobbie hupenda kuongea ju ya such stories, kwani yeh huumizwa kila saa.
I never address these comments because I hardly blog about my personal life , and when I do, I make it indirect.

Maybe I’m in love with a man who treats me like a queen. Maybe I’m in a shitty relationship. Maybe I’m single. Maybe I’m a hoe. Maybe I’m a lesbian. You’ll never know because it’s a mystery.

All I needed to say was that I believe in karma. Don’t do unto others what you would die if done to you.
You don’t know what battles someone is trying to overcome and maybe you were their only light at the end of the tunnel but you disappointed their love and trust for you.
Pukka on your heartbreaking endeavours. I hope you girls and boys are proud.

Lemmi stop being philosophical but it’s not fresh.

Personally, if anyone out of my about 40,000 readers sees this and had the intention to belittle my intelligence and undermine my feelings by stringing me along, just stay the fuck away from me.

Fuck stringing someone along. Just tell them you want to fuck and bail instead of lying about love and emotions.
Ile lightning itakustrike inafanya press ups.

Bye.
Robertta Bobbie.

It had been a long while since I had seen Kyle.
The mere thought of his presence disgusted me.

And now he was here. Right in front of me.
I only agreed to his invitation because my soul needed closure. I needed an apology. Heck I needed a thousand explanations. I needed to know why.

My throat was dry.
God his smile! This man!
And my eyes dropped right to his crotch, I couldn’t help but give a coy smile, ‘he’s still got it’, I thought to myself.
A heavenly member, infested with the devil’s disease. My heart was breaking but I needed to confront him.
He was hard already and my outfit was carefully selected with the intention to make him squirm under those pants. An outfit he bought me during one of his trips overseas.

‘You are a murderer’ I whispered under my breath,  ‘You wanted to see me dead infected.  You have no humane sanity!’

His jaw line seductively sitting on that face of his. The veins on his arms almost throbbing as he stroked his beard with his right hand. I missed those hands. I missed how they would caress and hold me. Those hands were once mine. The same hands he opened doors for me with, pulled chairs, held me with.

He did not budge.

There’s this thing with silence that instigates more anger from me. Talk back you fool. Or grab me and kiss me, I don’t know. I wanted him to tell me that he really did love me and that I was not an easy lay he had acquired for his convenience.  I wanted to hear reassuring words, that all he did for me was out of his feelings for me…
That his marriage proposal was not a joke. I didn’t care about anything else because my heart was in the middle of all this.

We were at his house where he was holding a memorial for Olive. Her death was ruled as a suicide. Well it was. But we were responsible.  Kyle was. And just like that, the commencing of investigations was halted.
The things money can do!
Everyone else was in the den.

I realised that I still loved this man, that was why I was standing here, in his house, along the corridors he would make sweet love to me. If only these walls could replay what they saw.

I was HIV negative, but I still wanted him.
Don’t call me stupid or naive.
Haven’t you ever just wanted to be with someone irregardless of their problems?

Or maybe I’m just a hoe* and dick is life. But … no. I love Kyle. Loved. Loved is the word.

He started sobbing, eyes bloodshot and I felt like I was going to get the answer I needed. He came closer and held me. This was the touch I was longing for, but all he said was that he was sorry. Almost as if he knew he had lost me for good, and no explanation would melt my oh so weak heart. He was wrong. I wish he knew how I struggled months on end to forget him. I wish he knew how much courage I had mustered to avail myself.

Just then, Mark, his best friend came towards us to tell him that he was needed in the den. Kyle left. No other words from him.

Sorry?
What exactly was he sorry for? Making me fall in love then bailing?  Not disclosing that we has married?  Almost infecting me with HIV?  What?
So I came here for nothing. Okay.

I hate lies. He should have come clean. I always see right through that bullshit. Besides,  I’d forgive the man I love any day. I guess men underestimate a woman’s ability to be intelligent.
We may feign oblivion, but we just want the truth.

I decided to leave. I didn’t bother conversating with Mark. But I could see how he was looking at me. It’s the dress.

This man scarcely paid attention to me.
Horny bastard, I thought.
But I know how vulnerability attracts men. And he damn sure was attracted. There was something about his poise and cologne that had thrown me off my Kyle a couple of times. His hair as well. I’d occasionally joke about wanting to make babies with him only in hopes of my children acquiring his beautiful hair. These jokes never sat well with Kyle of course. But I’m a faithful woman and he knew that.
I was single now.

I was trying to fight my tears as I walked past everyone especially Kyle. I shouldn’t have come.

I hastened the strut towards my car and as soon as I got in, I could not hold back the tears.  So much pain. Too much anger. I knew I had lost him now. This was different from when I went on hiatus after Olive’s demise. I would ignore his calls but I knew I’d come round,  and I was here now, wasn’t I?
But on this day,  there was a sense of finality. It was over.

Mark got in the passenger’s side,
‘Tell me what’s wrong’,
Well he looked concerned, afterall, he had trailed me.  And he knew about Kyle and I. The nerve this guy had!

Remember when I told you guys that a shoulder to cry on is a dick to ride on?

He turned my face around to wipe my tears off. Then he pulled me to him to kiss me.  I knew where this was going.

He told me to drive.  I obliged. No questions asked. His right hand was shaking, the other was gripping my thigh. I drove to an alley and nor sooner had I stopped the car than he had lifted me onto him.

‘How do I lalisha this thing?’ Mark asked. I showed him the knob.

Io ndo uzuri ya sisi laptops. We can fit anywhere. We can fold in a thousand ways as well. (No shade*)

His kisses on my neck. This ignited everything.  Where had this man been all my life? I know I felt the same way with Kyle, but this was different. This felt like bottled up anger and lust, and I wanted to pour them out on this man.

His hands were all over me. I was dripping wet at this point. I needed to rebound. So it was okay. I needed to go through with this so I could hurt Kyle. In my mind. Subconsciously.

He moved my panties to the side. He slid his fingers in.
                          Gloria in excelsis deo
‘Baby let me make you the happiest woman on earth. Let me help you let go of Kyle.  I’ve always wanted you, I love you! Let me…’

I was moaning already.
He put me in the backseat and took my panties off.

‘I’m going to eat you out’, he said, ‘It’s my gift to you. A gift to make you forget your pain’

And he began.
Oh Mark!
His tongue navigated through my clit like it was home. Groceries is an understatement bruh.
He ate me out like I was made of licorice.
He was holding my thighs apart. The car was steamy.
Oh and the fingering got profuse. Hell I did that movie thing where girls brush their fingers over windows, walls etc.

At this point I was gone, I was ready for him. I wanted Mark inside me. I could tell from his heavy breathing that he felt the same way.
We didn’t care about the world outside the car.  This was for us and at this point I knew I had switched up from Kyle. It’s Mark I wanted.  He was the one.

‘Come sit on it bebe, just look at how hard I am for you!’, pulling his manhood out of his pants, stroking it like it was God’s gift to me.

I zoned out. The pleasure was as breathtaking during the first thrust. I was back on top of him on the passenger seat. I could see the tranquillity on his face, feel his breath on my chest.

But I was scared. I couldn’t fathom this intensity in my heart.  What was wrong with me?

I dont know if this has happened to you guys before,  but I, I, I just wanted to be loved.  To love this man. Forget about Kyle.  I was staring at him. Our emotions were in tandem. Too soon?

‘What are you thinking!?’ He asked. I’m sure he was puzzled at the fact that I wasn’t riding him. I just sat there, mesmerised at the overwhelming emotional surge.

I knew I had met my husband, this was him.
Mark.
This was what I wanted to come home to every night. Forever. Call it, love-at-first-shag.

I was ready to get to work work work work work when I turned and saw Kyle outside the car.
He had found us. But I had not the slightest care on earth. He didn’t love me. I know.
His stare possessed pious vindictiveness.  Exasperation. Like he had the will to kill.

‘I’m not letting go of you any time soon. I’m not about to lose the woman I love.’ Mark assured me as we stared back at Kyle.

But Kyle had lost me with his lies.

I had just met my husband.

                                   ~fin~

Email: [email protected]
Instagram: @roberttabobbie