We sat in his car, and he was looking directly into my eyes as he spoke. Something was different today, still a man of few words, but I could hear the turmoil in his head, the loud thoughts. I could see him fight himself because he couldn’t read me quite yet. I don’t know if it scared him, but I know it made him have to weigh the risk.

He told me himself that he was not ready for a relationship. I remember thinking, ‘what a bizarre thing to keep insisting…’ but, he was warning me. Almost as if repeating it to convince himself because I hadn’t seen him in this light just yet. I was still vetting him, and I was still unsettled. Either I was struggling to read him too, or I knew exactly who he was, but I didn’t want to admit it to myself just yet. Why though? Was I starting to like him?

‘‘Let’s pinky swear, we both promise not to try and make each other do what the other isn’t ready for, but swear to do our best to become better for ourselves, hence, for each other.’’ A kind of arrangement where we’re admitting that we liked each other but would not take things further than enjoying the company. It also meant that I couldn’t have sex with him because I didn’t want to fuck someone that wasn’t madly in love with me.

And we made the promise, his face smiling at me but his eyes ominous. Fear or pain? I didn’t know. Maybe this is why he noticed that my whole body wasn’t even facing him as we laughed. Was my body warning me too? I decided to believe him for there is no higher honor than that I accord the pinky swear.

I didn’t feel like he could protect me even though physically, he was super protective. There was a vulnerability that came with his presence, like he could probably take care of me under his arms but never from worry. Never from anxieties surrounding our relationship, if anything, he was causing them and I was enabling it. With him I felt the need to be chosen by him, like I needed to be picked but he just didn’t see me. It didn’t matter how much he spoke with reassurance; this itch wasn’t being scratched for me.

I knew what it meant when he started to breathe fast and heavy, when he started to play with my hair and kiss my forehead. It was like a spell he cast, a net that would always trap me, his fish in the sea, for this time.

The sexual energy was charged but I was trying to be a friend like we had agreed. I could hear his heart beat, that’s why I faced my legs away from him. To help the situation. Something else I did was wear ugly underwear; there was no way I was letting him past my skirt to see those, affirmative action, right? I was being proactive and intentional towards making sure we wouldn’t fuck but the more I was agreeing and asking to keep seeing him, the more I was projecting my idea of him and falling in love with it.

¿Por qué eres bonita?

I don’t know why men like to ask me why I’m so beautiful? Not sure how I’m supposed to respond to that, or if it’s just figurative, but I’ve heard it a couple times now.

He asked me when his fingers were deep inside me and my eyes were rolling at the back of my head. The granny panties didn’t work, but, the fact that neither of us had condoms with us did. It was heavy and steamy; the car was hot from the charged energy. He said that he wanted to make love to me but this wouldn’t be the ideal place to do it for the first time, it needed to be more special.

I want to make love to you; I want to make love…’ I remembered the way he looked at me like he could eat me alive, it felt like it was taking everything from him to hold himself from absolutely swallowing me up.  This was the last time when he came to see me at my mom’s with a gorgeous bouquet. Thoughts of him walking around the store with flowers for me made me even more wet. Memories of him being kind, thoughtful and sweet were swarming my mind. What else did I want? I wanted sex too. I wanted to be fucked so hard by him too.

I think this is where a flip switched in me. I went from seeing him as a man that was in the background of my life to someone that actually had shown me over and over that he held high consideration for me.

Consideration? Horniness? Ama ata ndio ilikua inafaa kukua bare minimum hahah. I don’t know, you can call it what you want, but even if he was pretending, his attention to detail for the things I enjoyed and preferred as well as his spontaneity in making sure I was okay and happy throughout the years was evident.

In that moment I knew this was going to hurt because he was not who I needed. He was not ready. He didn’t want me, but I was starting to want him.

XX

It had been a long time since I was in the presence of a man I actually liked; years even and maybe that’s why I was being so coy. We were on the couch, my whole torso engulfed in his long arms with my laps over his thighs. We were watching something that had me cower in his arms even further while slightly stroking his waist area with my soft fingers.

I knew sex was a possibility, I knew he didn’t want anything ‘serious’ with me past boinking our genitals so, I was pretty confident that I would not willingly accept to have sex and if I did, I had to start preparing myself to be okay with the fact that it meant nothing to him, I was just a random Tuesday to him.

I was anxious because I brought myself to his house, I agreed to come because I genuinely enjoyed his company and I wanted to be with him. I wanted to be around him, to kiss and talk and eat. I wanted to laugh some more so when he asked if I was sleeping over or he should drop me off because it was getting late and he had an early morning, I was in a dilemma.

I wanted to stay. I wanted to be in his arms longer and to feel his scent all over me. I wanted him to keep telling me that I’m beautiful and laugh at my jokes even more, but I also wanted to be respectful. You could cut through the sexual tension with a knife by now, but I was intentionally refusing to acknowledge it because I knew the consequences all too well.

‘I want to stay…’ I said as I hugged him tighter. I could see his face break out into a smile from the side of my eye. Nilijua nimejileta kichinjio, and I was super anxious that staying and refusing to have sex at this point would be rude. I know many girls know what I mean, I felt like I was wrong for thinking like this because he had never shown me to be like this, but before him, I had never really had sex with a man who had not been leading with sex. He was actually the type to set up a room for me to make me more comfortable, but this is where my anxiety was stemming from.

He started to kiss me. We had been making out earlier and I tried to break it off because of these fears I carried with me, but here we were again. I can’t remember when our clothes came off, but I remember feeling so high, like being with him intoxicated me. I was gone, beyond yonder! I couldn’t think straight and I was drowning….

And I felt his bare dick rub on my dripping wet vagina already. We were lying on our sides in a fetal position and he was hugging me from the back. We were already so sweaty and nasty. I zoomed back into consciousness and asked him to get a condom. That was me agreeing. That was me saying, ‘okay yes, let’s fuck’. 

It felt so good, his hands all over my body, his gorgeous hands that I wouldn’t stop thinking about since the first time I met him. His warm body against mine almost made me cry because I realized just how much I was lacking intimacy and touch in my life. The truth is, sometimes I go get my hair washed at the salon for fun just because I need to be touched. I saw the girlies on twitter say they get their nails done for the same reason and it really brought to my attention just how much touch deprived one can get… I thought I needed sex but being touched was eliciting far much more emotion than I had felt in years. This was the first time I was having sex that meant a lot to me because I actually liked Fernando. I did. I was falling so hard for him and I was trying my best not to chase him away with all the love I had pent up from years of holding it in.

He didn’t see my tears, but I was ridden with anxiety and love. So much fear and good feelings at the same time. I didn’t know this confusion meant something but later I came to understand it was just matching his hot and cold behaviour with me. My body was waving the red flags so high but I liked him a lot. I wanted him to make love to me.

‘‘Please get a condom, I can’t have sex with you if you don’t wear a condom,’’ I repeated myself because he was still rubbing himself on me and trying to stick his dick in. While it felt so good, I knew I had to keep advocating for myself. The sex had to go on my terms too if it meant I was going to be gravely hurt emotionally afterwards. I could tell he didn’t want to use condoms, same way he never had condoms with him in the car last time. I noticed a pattern and this let me know if he was like this with me, he was like this overall. It disappointed me.

I said it a third time and he finally stood to go and get it. I had a moment to think hard about if this was what I really wanted…. I’m young, I’m hot and I’m horny. I have a dick right here that I feel like I need but it comes without any emotional support, was I ready to go another 6 months obsessing over someone I knew was never going to be what I needed? Why was I emotionally connecting to a man who had made it clear he felt no emotions? I know first hand how this book ends because I had read it a couple times before.

But I’m young and I’m hot and I’m horny.

He walked back into the living room with a condom. ‘Too late to stop him now,’ I thought. I hate that I was unable to share with him these thoughts because I was afraid of making him angry. I started to think about why I was really scared, why I was even unable to speak up. It was because he had never allowed for a safe emotional space to talk; we never really talked about these things.

This whole time my mind was on overdrive. His dick was already in my mouth. I remember thinking, ‘oh my goodness why would he put his dick in my mouth, we have literally never even talked about this’, I’d never seen this side of him that would hold my head to shove his dick in my mouth. He was always so quiet with very little to say. I was overthinking this whole thing and I zoned out again.

‘OH MY GOD,’ he kept moaning out loud while thrusting into me. I remember feeling frozen, like my body couldn’t move. It was like an out of body experience. I was on the couch, Fernando on top of me and all I could think about was how different it felt. It felt like I was enjoying the sex but my heart was so unsettled. I couldn’t react, I couldn’t kiss him back or pull him closer, I was just there, frozen.

He stood up and pulled me up to follow him to his room after fucking me on the couch, then he set me up against the wall and fucked me from the back, on the corridor. He had taken the condom off because he said it was too tight and even though I was so high off the sex, I kept trying to walk off telling him to wear a condom first. I felt like a little girl, frustrated because I wasn’t being listened to, I started to think, ama niache tu utiaji? Ama ninyamaze tu nijienjoy. I was high in a man’s house who wanted to fuck me; it’s my fault, right? but I liked him, I didn’t want to leave. He swore he liked me too and maybe he was saying the truth?

I yielded. I felt so small. My heart was scared, my mind was wandering off, my body was horny but also frozen as a response. Couldn’t he see all this? Wasn’t he wondering why ROBERTTA BOBBIE was not fucking back?

He fucked me on the bed, on the dresser, in all rooms of the house, I remember because he asked ‘where else haven’t I fucked you from?’ like he was ticking off a check list- it reminded me of two dates before this night when he was dropping me off and we started making out in the car. He was pretty upset about not being able to make me squirt all over his car, almost as if it was his night’s mission and I wasn’t letting it happen. It felt as if he was always trying to achieve something sexually with me that was on his fantasy list, like maybe he didn’t see me as a real human being with feelings and needs. Just like the rest of them. I couldn’t tell if this feeling was familiar or if I was allowing my fears to manifest. I was clearly traumatized by past sexual experiences and my brain was able to spot patterns but I was so into him, I just couldn’t tell.

What in me was making me so attracted to this? What about me said that I was okay with having a sexual relationship with someone who didn’t hold any emotional space for me? I knew I had a lot of work to do when I got home.

I knew he was smart, meaning everything he did was very intentional. I also knew he was super passionate because he says it and I’ve seen him work, meaning he can communicate when he cares and he shows up for the things he loves, it just wasn’t me… and that was okay.

He fucked me on every bed in the house, he fucked me on the dining table and I squirted all over it.

Fernando is a tall man; I don’t know how tall but im like 5’8’-ish and when I hug him my head falls on his chest. He is very lean and his body is gorgeous. I can tell he is obsessed with his hair because of how much attention he puts into it, there’s a time I was on the dresser and he was making sure his hair sat right while looking at himself directly in the mirror, while his long dick was inside me and he was pounding so hard I could barely think.

He was super respectful for most of the part, but I could always catch moments when he’d snap out of frustration or anger/ impatience. This held a huge part in why I was scared of him. I had known him 4 years but was still super scared to bring up conversations about my emotions. I knew he would either ignore or argue. In the moment, I wanted to keep the peace to have him around longer because I wanted to build a real connection, something he said he was incapable of doing after years of telling me it was what he wanted, that he wanted to be my friend and he cared about me deeply.

He told me I could rely on him.

He took me into the last room after a short water break and his long dick was hard all night for me. We just couldn’t stop; the passion was like no other and I’d keep wanting more. By this time my confidence was starting to come back and so was my mind. I was starting to be conscious again and I realized this was real life. I was actively fucking up for a few hours of sex and I was enjoying it.

Then he started to talk to me while inside me, he had been moaning so loud just the way I like the whole time but I just couldn’t hear him from how high up I was.  It felt so good, I was overwhelmed with pleasure. It felt like I was drowning and falling at the same time…

What is sex without being talked through it? I loved to hear him moan and gasp.

The way he let my name out during his thrusting, moaning ‘oh my god’ like he was struggling to hold it together. I felt it too, it felt good, like a reward after edging me with romance.

‘Don’t push me away, don’t hold back just let go,’ he whispered in my face while kissing me and immediately my body released. I squirted so hard all over his dick and all over the bed that it took me out. He was on top of me during missionary when this happened and I just held on to him like I was on a nduthi, my whole body shaking from the aftermath.

This was the kind of fuck I deserved every day. I wanted him even more now but at least I knew it was the oxytocin. He nutted after me and we cuddled in bed after a nice shower.

It felt good to sleep in his arms and on his chest, he had a huge tattoo all across his chest that had similarities with a tattoo on my arm. I slept so well; I’ve never been able to sleep as peaceful as I did with someone else in bed like I did that night. I was so worried about my morning breath though, and what if I had to poop in the morning? This alone told me that I wasn’t comfortable enough in his home.

Maybe I was trying to see him as someone he wasn’t and that’s why I was so frustrated about everything. The next morning marked the beginning of heartache and healing because he grew distant instantly.

Months later, he finally disclosed that we couldn’t fuck again because he was afraid that he was catching feelings for me fast and it’s not something he was ready for. By then his explanation didn’t matter to me. Hii explanation ni kama kuambiwa, ‘I regret to inform you that you are overqualified for this position.’ Na I’d heard enough of those in my lifetime. It’s what men say.

‘I like you A LOT so I can’t be with you!’ all the way from, ‘I want you in my life and I don’t want to lose you!’   

I didn’t need any closure.

I was falling deep for him too, difference is even though I wasn’t ready, I was willing to be. It felt the same, like everything I was afraid of -being discarded after sex. He was just like the rest of them. He couldn’t have come to this realization before we fucked? He had so much self-discipline, except now? It was both our fault. I take responsibility for my part. I not only thought he could change like he promised to, but also, I still chose to stay when he told me he won’t.

We both got tested afterwards for more transparency and even though he didn’t cum inside me, I took the emergency pill for precaution. I wasn’t on any contraception because I absolutely believe in condoms so, please don’t shangaa sana why I let moments of pleasure blind me, I really trusted Fernando. I really did and that’s something I take accountability for. The next couple of days after were difficult. I cried a lot. The weeks to follow were worse for me emotionally. I missed him and I thought about him a lot.

On Valentines’ that year, I sat by my phone hoping he would reply my text. I didn’t even know if he was in the country, it was a few weeks from when we had sex and I thought maybe he would talk to me. He didn’t but he watched my Instagram stories. I was terribly hurt when he ignored my emotional bids to see him, but I decided to stand up. He had told me and had shown me countless times who he was, I don’t understand why my brain was always trying to rewrite him. Every time I would try to express myself, he said that I focused on the negatives too much and made him feel like a failure; it was easier for him to turn it around than fix it so I decided to shut up. We did have amazing moments, but all I remember is how he made me feel, not what he did for me. I was always so confused about him, maybe it was because of the gifts he always got me?

We fucked from 10pm to 3am but I realized he knew nothing about me and he wasn’t really trying to. I knew I said last time that I would never have sex under such circumstances again, but for real this time, this was the last.

He taught me to be stricter with my standards. He taught me to speak up and stand by what I want. He taught me that I’m never going to a man’s house that isn’t my man. I don’t ever want to feel like I don’t belong na saizo mi hulipa rent yangu. He taught me to listen carefully mtu akiniambia ‘sikutaki’.

I want to say that the issue was the lack of clarity, but to be fair, it was clear. He said it himself. He did not want a relationship. He had also said that he wanted to be my friend and for us to build a connection.

Fernando also said that if he were me, he would walk away despite the festering of emotions; I could tell he viewed feelings in a negative light. He was being honest with me, but in the same breath, he also swore that I could call him whenever and he would always be there for me, which was a lie. He didn’t pick up when I called.

Every other week I received flowers in my house from him, even on the months that he wouldn’t speak to or see me. I consistently had a reminder of his presence in my space, his soul always lurking from the darkness rather than come into the light with me. My favourite flowers without a card, he didn’t even know that I hated dark chocolate, but he kept sending it and I was always too afraid to tell him because I didn’t want to seem ungrateful, it affirmed how much he knew nothing about me. I had no choice but to love him as he was because if I didn’t, I would have started to hate him. He broke our promise. Disregarded our pinky swear; yet I still held him in my heart. I said prayers for him. I cried to my friends about him. Our communication was reduced to that of divorcees speaking through attorneys, our attorneys were the delivery guys we dispatched between each other to keep the gifts going.

Was he just a figment of my imagination? Was I dreaming and he never happened?

I just threw out the last bouquet because it died and it dawned on me that him and I were dead too. It wasn’t real.

Maybe I was the problem. The low standards I set for how he could treat me. The things I allowed with him because I liked him a lot. He taught me to aim higher, to require more, to love myself better.

He woke me up.

I kept being the only one who reaches out until one day when I thought of sex, his face no longer came up. The lack of flowers sent by him in my house also lifted the veil. It was like the spell he cast was dissipating. I was coming free and even though it hurt, I realized he was an imaginary man. He didn’t exist. I was in love with the wind. It was time to move on from the man with the tatoo.

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