This is how it ends, or it is supposed to end. Music slowly fading in the background. You, walking away, your hair shimmering slightly. Running off to catch your plane, me…promising to wait for you. But reality is a bit more believable. We just had sex, and I know this is the end. You sit there looking more beautiful than you did 3 minutes ago. Libido can do that, turn any piece of ass into Jennifer Hudson.
How long has it been?
3 years have brought us to this. You have been my greatest flaw. Mama was right; these pretty girls will mess up a brother. Do you remember, when we met? You seated there beside your mama. Me, stealing glances at you, wondering how it would feel for you to sleep next to me. Thank goodness the old lady slept like a log. How else would I have gotten your number? Though, If I am telling this story in strict Truth. I gave you my number, and I hoped you would call. You did, after keeping me waiting for a freaking week. But I figured you would be worth the wait. Bullshit!
The fire… that ends too
3 years have now passed since I met you. A whirlwind romance… what the hell does that mean anyway? We were both Randy adults, so we just wanted to get some. It was purely a bonus that you were hot. I was very excited when you called. To tell you the truth, I was in a bit of a funk at the time. Okaaaaaay, not a funk but a severe dry spell. The Devil himself had personally gotten involved in ensuring I did not get laid. I deserved it though; it was my penance for cheating on Stacy, my immediate ex. She was a remarkable girl, my ticket to heaven. Why then did I cheat on her? Simple really, I am a good man but a terrible boyfriend.
Plus, Lisa the chic from accounting had an ass that was uuuuuhm heavenly! So we got to doing not so heavenly things in between lunch break and tea break at work. Of course, Stacy found out, I stopped trying to get her to bed. My excuse that I had finally bought into the till marriage craze did not make sense to her. Then again, I didn’t expect her to know the serial numbers of my condom stash.
Anyway, I digress. This is about you, or rather how you and I end. You were my means of forgetting Stacy, Lisa and all the others that came before you. I suspected at times that you could taste them on my lips. Especially, Pauline, she was my first, and a wild one at that. The constant copulation after a season of aridity must have affected my thinking. I remember somewhere along the way muttering something to the effect “I love you.” You said the same back, and for a second we were happy as hell. Then we got back to what we do…did best, copulation. You were for a happy minute, the reason for my existence. A stunning reminder of God’s existence.
But stories like ours are never meant to last. You told me you knew that from all the poetry you read. Then again, when your “jobo” offers to send you to “majuu” for some years, you don’t say No. If we were different people we might have pretended, even lied to ourselves that this relation/situation/I-don’t-know-what-the-fuck-we-are/ship would last. However, we both know that the second you are on that plane. I will find someone else. She will be the reason for my existence.
Our story must then end, exactly how it began. You naked, me fidgeting with my clothes.
So as I put on my trousers, you turn and face the Wall. As if, protecting your eyes from the indignity of facing me. I head out, and as I open the door, your phone rings. The soft music falls over the room. This is how it ends, with me walking away and you pretending I no longer exist.