The One That Got Away!

I believe everyone has that one person in their life who they think of with longing and regret. Regret over wasted time, things left unsaid, things better left unsaid. The one person who got away. The one person who has you saying "coulda, shoulda, woulda" and asking that eternal question "what if?" I have (or should I say had) one person like that in my life. The love of my life. My best friend, the one who got away.
I got a call today, a call I wish had never come, but it did. I was informed that my best friend died two days ago. I'm in a state of limbo and still hoping someone will call and say it was just a mistake. But I know that won't happen, his sister's tears made that clear. I'm writing now because I'd rather write than cry. If I don't do something I'll only weep, and I'm not ready to cry yet. The irony of the whole thing is I'd been ill too and never knew he was ill. My illness started the day his did, same thing sef. Malaria and typhoid. I got better, he didn't. What's even funnier is two days ago I woke up feeling unlike my usual self. I was lethargic and really had no zeal to do anything. I remember telling a friend that I was just feeling generally tired of life and fed up. As it was, that was the day he died, and now I wonder if that was the reason (even though I'm not one to romantize such things).
We had a very strange relationship. Very, very strange. We were friends for nearly 8 years, for 5 of those years we were more than friends. Most people (self included) actually thought we'd get married (his kid sisters still daydream). Things happened, that now when I think about it really made no sense, and even after he married someone else we still kept in touch. Even though he hurt me greatly he was still my best friend, and we could never really leave each other. Don't get me wrong. He was married, thus out of bounds, but on an emotional level we were always joined. We could have an entire conversation without saying a word. He always got me, even when I didn't get me. He was the one I could always count on, as strange as that sounds.
He was that one! Maybe the One. He was the one who'd hold my hair while I'd be puking in the bathroom. He was the one who slept by my hospital bed. He was the one I'd stay awake with all night just talking, and the one who I could just sit with for hours and not feel like I had to say a word.
He was the one I always loved, and he loved me too. I'm not talking about the "tear off your clothes" mad passionate kinda love (though there was a time we had that too), I'm talking of the "I love you as you are" kind. He had issues, I had issues, WE had issues and maybe we'd never have made a marriage between us work, but that aside if I killed someone he'd be the one I'd call and he'd help me bury the body, no questions asked and vice versa. He was my person!
Now he's gone for good. So adieu to the one that got away! Adieu to my best friend.

DISCLAIMER: All thoughts and opinions expressed here are all mine (crazy as they might seem). All works here are my original work (unless otherwise stated)

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From Girl friend to Girlfriend

I'm the perfect girl friend! Seriously, I am! Guys just LOVE me. I'm funny, I'm fun, I'm kinda geeky, I talk football, know what a 4-4-3 formation is and am totally fanatical about my team (for them as don't know...Manchester United is the best team ever to grace the planet), I can drink with the best of 'em (and have put many a man under the table), I'm not prone to girly girl antics (i.e I don't flicker my eyelashes and act dumb or burst into tears when I don't get my way (I have a mean left hook for that :-))). I know the difference between SOAP and soap, and also get that Ruby on Rails isn't the name of a movie, and I keep it light. All my male friends come to seek wisdom from my oracle on dating and female issues (Delphi has nought on me) and I'm more or less one of the boys. Really cool and as an added bonus I can cook (all my male friends are in love with me).
So I should have no problem when it comes to my boyfriends (as in unpaid sex workers not as in guys who are my friends). I wish! It appears I become totally clueless when I'm in relations (or is that relationships...I tend to get confused which is which). All my super cool girl-pal powers evaporate when I become "The" Girlfriend. I'm starting to believe that it is a terrible idea move from friends to "friends". You can be really down to earth with your friends, you can talk shit and not feel self conscious or bad. You can be real and not fear judgement or reproach because your friend gets you, and has no preconceived notions or expectations about you. You can enjoy sitting down at a joint and jointly scope the field, offering friendly suggestions about the correlation between gravity and butt\boob sag (depending on the particular asset of preference of the scoper), and the link between shoes and penis size.
However, the minute the line is crossed, the rules change. Jokes that used to make both of you roll hysterically on the floor with laughter now bring about what I'd like to call the "Boys are not smiling" look. The once easy comradeship that was as natural as the hair on your head (the hair you were born with, not that raggedy ass made in Taiwan weave) disappears once you've seen each other naked a few times. The evenings spent chilling with the boys knocking back the double doubles are now taboo. Your one time best source of relationship info no longer exists, let's face it you can't really ask your bf to give you advice on how to get a guy to give you a lil down town action when he's the man in question. Sure you can ask your girls but again lets face it, guys know guys better!
Many conversational topics vanish from your gist repetoire, no more talk about the fly honey you saw at the club. Or how cute that hunk's tush's looking in those (oh those) jeans. Total no-no!
Another disadvantage is that boyfriend knows you. How's that a problem? Well let's look closely. This is the guy you spent nights with giving the down low on all your underground pimpette player moves. This is the guy that was in the know that time you had a holiday fling...when you had a boyfriend no less! He knows you! Bad, bad, bad...Michael Jackson bad! Seperating your pre-dating persona from your current dating persona is at times a task. And let's face it...you know him too (dawg that he is or is that was? :-D)!
Dating is hard enough with someone you don't know, but it's like paddling a canoe upstream without a paddle when you have history. That said I still think I'd prefer dating the guy who knows I like rice and okro, that I think Danger Mouse is way cooler than Mighty Mouse, that knows I'm a mean bitch till I do my first cup of java and slept by my hospital bed when I went in for surgery just so I wouldn't wake up alone.

DISCLAIMER: All thoughts and opinions expressed here are all mine (crazy as they might seem). All works here are my original work (unless otherwise stated)

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Gossip Girl

Ok…first and foremost apologies for the title! This is in no way a critique, review or analysis of the series equally titled "Gossip Girl". Truth be told I've never watched an episode so not in a position of authority to do that and thus don't understand what the fuss is about, and quite frankly I prefer series that actually stimulate the brain marginally, not all the teeny-bopper Melrose Park and Beverly Hills 90102 remakes. (The originals were forgettable so why should the new ones be any more memorable?) Alrighty, I'm digressing majorly! Off the 'soap' train and into a brief explanation (oh alright my notes are rarely brief …so long ass explanation definitely makes more sense)

Many a budding (and even long term) relationships, reputations and lives have been crushed, vaporized, annihilated, obliterated even (I'm just trying to help you effectively visualize) by Gossip Girls (and Boys…the lads are no saints even with that line about discussing and not gossiping). Devilish folks garbed as angels bearing the sweetest of gifts…tatafo! Yes we all love gossip, oui even même se! I absolutely love being in the mix, being queen of the 411, having all the amebo, the 'ish' dish, the entire juicy scandalous, blush inducing details, so that I can smile snugly about what I know. However, even with my inherent love for gist I draw the line with confiding my knowledge. As I told someone once, I'm kinda like Central Bank and a broke guy; no matter how the broke ass nigga begs the bank ain't giving him sod all! So it is with my mouth and secrets. I think only once to my recall have I ever broken a confidence, and if I look at it critically I didn't really break it, as I wasn't told that I couldn't say anything about it, and it was kinda libelous so I had to ask the other person in question. Nevertheless, one-on-one, promise to carry to my grave amebo, I don't spill. If any of my friends ever run for elected position, I am skipping town, changing my name (and if I wasn't so vain…invest in cosmetic surgery and touch ze beautiful face). Sure…they're just joking about assassinating me because I know where the bodies are buried, but when push comes to shove, I…ja ein…I won't stick around long enough to find out whether that was a smile 'smile' or a big bad wolf smile (you know the one he gave granny before making her brunch)!

Once more, I digress; I tend to ramble even in my thoughts! Anyway back to the topic at hand, gossip and its impact on the lives of its targets. I'm no celebrity, not won any Oscars and generally mind my own B. I., but people tend to have more interest in my life than I do. Maybe minding one's own business is a bad thing. When you reveal nothing of consequence, people invariably start formulating and postulating theories regarding your existence and being. Everything becomes gist worthy. I don't really mind so much although it ticks me off no end when they preach their beliefs as the gospel truth, and poor suckers fall for it hook, line and sinker. Now if I a mere mortal fall victim to scandal, how much more those who actually live in the public eye and like rabbits in the headlights are blinded by media flashbulbs and live the Superstar life. The life we all secretly long for, but still derive great pleasure from watching them fall flat on their faces and having them dissected and put through thorough analysis under a high powered microscope.

Gossip is a sin, plain and simple! No blurred lines, no shades of grey. Gossip is a form of sanctimony, where we sit in judgment of others. When really have you ever gossiped without having a little prick of self-righteousness, a small feeling of "I'm better than them" as you share your fresh off the presses red-hot news? Midnight Star sang a song back in the day all about the gist factory called Headlines if memory serves me right. Now you might say it's pretty harmless, that no malice exists in your transmission of gist, or that the facts that you are sharing are accurate so in no ways libelous nor slanderous! Granted, but how many times have you heard a story you saw the genesis of, and wondered whether the gist is really about what you know? Doesn't the story always seem to get garbled, embellished and revised in its telling? It never comes back the way it went out.

An Example: Kate went to a party (sans beau) with her girlfriends on the typical ladies' night soiree, and was dancing with a guy (Peter) she'd known for practically her whole life. Now as we know dancing nowadays tends to be akin to sex on the dance floor, so lots of body thrusting, invasion of personal space and legs around hips. One of her boyfriend's friends (let's call him Jeff) happened to be present at the party and saw Kate getting her 'groove on' on the floor totally unaware of baby girl's relationship with her dance partner. Jeff kept out of Kate's way and monitored her activities at the party. The party draws to an end and peter seeing as he lives 15mins away from Kate volunteers to drop her at home. Jeff sees Kate get into Peter's car and watches them drive off. The next day Jeff gets to Sam's house (also a friend of Kate's boyfriend, Phillip) and tell him of his encounter with Kate and how she was half naked, lip locking some dude on the dance floor, and how they got so carried away they couldn't wait for the party to end before jetting off in the guy's car surely to have sex. Sam filled with righteous indignation (he caught his girlfriend in bed with the driver) feels duty-bound to tell his paddy man Phillip and spare him the pain if catching her red handed. Sam renders the same story he heard from Jeff, however in his telling from the dance floor they graduated to Kate gyrating on the said dude's lap before heading to the car for a make out session, and Kate giving the guy a BJ in the backseat of his Jeep! Now Phillip loves Kate, and trusts her without reserve and brushes aside the story as just that, but the seed of doubt has been sown. From then he finds himself questioning her about her movements, when she talks a tad too long on the phone he started to wonder if it was another man. Gradually doubt eroded the once harmonious existence they shared, and within six months, the loving couple had gone their separate ways.

Many a reputation have been destroyed by well-aimed WMD. Allegations of impropriety, theft, sexual misconduct etc have marred careers or sown doubt into the minds of colleagues and turned people into water cooler grapevine matter and personal reputation has likewise been dented by gossip and insinuations. How many times did you hear stories spread about girls in school just because they were friendlier with the boys than the girls? Virgins were called sluts simply because it is deemed impossible for a guy and girl to be "just" friends (the issue of just friends is another matter for discourse). As the saying goes "Loose lips have sunk many a ship". My take on such issues has always been if I didn't see it with my own eyes I ain't buying it (pictures don't cut it either…did I hear someone say Photoshop?) especially seeing I've had my share of soft sell magazine style reportage done!

Now, even if you did see something suspect, is it your duty to divulge the information? When I was younger and knew no better I always thought it was my duty to guard my friends' interests and tell all I knew. However, with age (and hopefully more wisdom) I have come to realize that the three monkeys (hear no evil, speak no evil, see no evil) were exceptionally wise, and in telling, many a time you become the grand villain, especially if (or more likely when) the couple "kiss-and-make up", you the one-time Good Samaritan become fodder for the after sex bedroom (or kitchen floor) snuggle fests gist sessions. So…where exactly does one draw the line between doing the needful and being a tatafo? The thing is when the truth outs and the 'victim' in question learns that you were in the 'know' you become for all intents and purposes persona non gratia! Maybe it's really a case of damned if you do, damned if you don't, so you might as well be damned!

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Delayed Devotion

Even the most cynical of us would like to believe that maybe we're wrong and true love exists. We want to believe that some times the fabled...happy ever after can happen! However...for the realists among us, we know that the probability of winning the £42 million Lotto or finding El Dorado is greater than that of finding true love. Thus we make do with finding something like love, any love (true or not)!
That said, once found, love rarely lives up to its much touted hype (although I'd love to meet the guy who writes LOVE's PR). It causes psychotic delusions, mental discord and a host of other health problems. The expected camaraderie nonexistent, the anticipated spiritual oneness a ruse, and after awhile its only redeeming virtue...sex...starts to suck, and eventually dries up much like the Nile during a drought! However, we keep trying, whether in this relationship or the next one.
In the course of the love match, complacency sets in! We tend to take those closest to us for granted the most. Our efforts are concentrated on satisfying others outside the union, maybe because we believe that our partner'll understand. After all you're theirs so why should they be antsy and pissed when you're not always emotionally there? You've told them you love them, and that should be enough! Shouldn't it?
Unfortunately it isn't! Sure you said I love you, sure you're faithful, but saying I Love You and showing I Love You are two totally different things. As the saying goes 'actions speak loudest'. When you talk the talk but don't walk the accompanying walk, problems are bound to arise. As human beings, we constantly seek validation (and yes confirmation) from those we admire and love. We thrive on their approval and admiration. Whether we like it or not, or even admit it to ourselves...this is the simple truth.
The title of this piece is courtesy Duffy and her song Delayed Devotion in which she blasts the former love of her life for his nonchalant, lackluster attitude during their affair, and scorns his attempts for reconciliation now that he has woken up from his relationship slumber to realise she's left him for good. His declaration of devotion, alas, came much too late and love had turned to hatred. It would be nice if she stopped there, but our girl gathers steam and in a Lily Allenesque volley of words promises him such torture that by the time she's through with him he'll need to pack up shop and find another town where someone might talk to him! Bitterness at its best! For some unfathomable reason, relationships have a way of bringing out the worst in folk, especially when it doesn't live up to expectation, which is more often than not, but poor deluded love starved fools that we are, we keep trying!
Procrastination, putting off what could be done today til another day, has been the Achille's heel of a lot of relationships. Devotion delayed is as good as no devotion at all. As Tracy Chapman declared in her song 'If Not Now...' a love delayed for the days to come is as good as none. Don't put off giving love when you can and should, and really pay attention to your partners needs and really listen to (not just hear) what they're saying.
Frequently people wake up one fine morning to find 'outta the blue' that they're alone. It's never outta the blue, there is always a warning signal, always a sign, but alas...we're usually too busy with outside stuff that we never put enough effort into the inside stuff.
Pay heed, else you might find yourself listening to Ray Parker Jnr singing 'i tried to warn you...a woman needs love just like you do' in your ear, cos she's gone!
(Originally Posted: 7 May 09)

DISCLAIMER: All thoughts and opinions expressed here are all mine (crazy as they might seem). All works here are my original work (unless otherwise stated)

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Not Really Poetry

Whispered words, stolen glances, forbidden thoughts, reason nought but endless white noise.
Thoughts left not spoken, tension built, passions aroused, chance encounters designed by choice.
Attraction heightened,
belt buckle, zip, hook, pantyhose down, lips
entwined, parted thighs, all reason confined, wrongdoing denied.
Downcast eyes, regretful sighs.
Dejection, rejection, leading to eventual despise.
(Originally posted: 13 May 09)

DISCLAIMER: All thoughts and opinions expressed here are all mine (crazy as they might seem). All works here are my original work (unless otherwise stated)

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