How love at first sight quickly turned to sour grapes


I watched her gracefully eat her dinner that valentine’s night. How she playfully played with her fork, subconsciously smiling coyly at me. What fascinated me most was the halo on her supple skin in the candle lit room. Cliché isn’t it? Why I cannot come up with something more creative than what the movies depict romance being? Being a blind date, there was no need for an ‘umph!’ approach even if it improved the chances of getting lucky later in the night.

“So Anthony, what is your description of love?”  I knew that was a question I wouldn’t escape from. Curiosity was piling up and she was getting comfortable, leaning her head towards me expectant of a fairy tale.

Well it begins with a blush over a compliment, maybe a few dances in the city’s string of discotheques or at a mutual friend’s house party. An eye contact, the approach and there’s a ‘click’. She finds my jokes humorous. I think I find her simplicity and confidence quite appealing. My, she does smell lovely and subconsciously. I start taking her clothes off. Hmm..not bad, not bad at all, I am impressed by the imagination! Please, don’t be quick to point a finger at me. Am not a pervert but my manly instincts expects a full analysis of the female species and am only given the green light to advance if oestrogen highly outranks the testosterone composition of the species. Who would want a heart attack come early in the morning?

She gently helps me up for a dance, ‘Be advised,’ I say ‘ I have two left feet’ and after a half an hour of making an amusement of myself she draws herself close to me and wraps her arms around my neck. I wrap mine around her waist and we sashay across the floor. Under normal circumstances I would make the girl face forward where vigorous grinding and humping could occur. She however was different; touching her made me realize what I have ever wanted was for a moment in my arms. I take off her glasses and she is the most beautiful lady I have ever seen. “You are beautiful” you find yourself whisper and its sincere. Wait she’s closing her eyes, yes it’s a kiss she wants, a tongue she gets and a simple lip to lip contact happens. Wait; there is a bump in my pants: how is this possible?

All night I lie awake thinking about her, unknowingly she becomes my idol and other girls become invincible. Her name becomes my brand; she becomes this drug I quickly need a fix of her presence. Introducing her to my friends and acquaintances becomes tricky since I am not familiar with the right pronoun rather title. Am spoilt for words; ‘girlfriend’ sounds so much commitment after two weeks of seeing each other whilst ‘friends with benefits’ gives people the imagination of what you do in the dark and neither is ‘just a friend’ for what people can see is ‘smitten’ all over my face.

Unfortunately, no one warned us.

At first Love becomes copy pasting what you see and read in magazines and chick flicks. We bring in all the advice from our closest friends. The worst one ever; it is never that serious in dating. Wait until your chick gets overly cosy with a ni**a and you become greener than hulk with jealousy. This relationship becomes exclusive there and then. We men are all familiar with ‘We are just friends’ Friends my foot! All I see is hyenas with their teeth out gnashing at her provoke.

The scales fall from your eyes after the ‘honeymoon’ is over. She is not the perfect girl I visualized, your jokes are dry to her and she is complaining everything about you. From how I scratch my balls and smell my hand later to how I dress up. She places her responsibility to be happy solely on you and it causes a strain in your relationship. I want out!

I meet up with my mentor and he gives me some food for thought. You two are two different people; from different ways of perception and upraising. Conflict was inevitable and how we dealt with it was crucial. For once I stopped thinking about me and truly she too is trying to accommodate my weaknesses. Love becomes compromise, meeting each other halfway. You stop forcing your woman to be what you want her to be and comes to terms that she’s unique in her own way just as God wanted her to be.

Love becomes respecting her weaknesses and not using them to validate on your relationship. It means loving her at her worst; when she recoils to your touch and seems awfully distracted. Love becomes communication; for as long you are together you will keep on hurting each other unknowingly; it will heal wounds and make amends. Love becomes appreciating my own self individually and relying on God as the source of happiness; for it is not my partners’ responsibility and it’s a promise she can’t keep. It’s learning to love the same girl over and over again for as life progresses so she will.

There is nothing therefore that gets refined without hardship and obstacles.

And when my love is not just enough, it means to let go and be grateful that love stepped by my door.

“I don’t know what love is” that was my reply. I did not lie; because sometimes love is just not enough.

Anthony Muhia :