When not a cliché is cliché

The Rackster has a way with words that binds you in some sort of spell. Once you begin the first paragraph, you’re captivated, eyes never leaving the screen till the last word. Then you want more and more….the thirst! This week’s guest post is courtesy of him.

You’ve never been in such a position before where all your flaws seem perfect in her eyes. She likes the fact that you’re not perfect and that you don’t try to be. You too appreciate the fact that she is troubled there is something endearing about it if not beautiful. Toying with the idea of what it could be seems plausible but scary – mostly scary. But you are weird and this endears you even more. You don’t know what she thinks about the whole thing you are not even sure she as ever thought about it. Secretly you hope she has but the uncertainty gives you some sort of rush, it makes you feel alive.

Girls are not your thing, not that you are gay but they just come with too much responsibility. They are like puppies ever whining and craving for attention. But not her, she can go for days on end without calling or texting you. This is not weird at all; in fact you appreciate it and even in some occasions enjoy it. She respects her space and yours as well, she creates a distance between the two of you. You know that the both of you will grow into this distance eventually. You let it happen, no, you both let it happen.

It’s to you a whirlwind romance but to most the weirdest shit they’ve ever seen. You don’t celebrate anniversaries – I mean how could you when you don’t even know exactly when it all became a thing. You are happy being where you are – together. The cliché is not celebrating valentines so the two of you celebrate valentine’s. But you do not get each other flowers and chocolate or go for an expensive dinner date looking superficial and feigning fairy tale romance. What you do is unique to the two of you – on Valentine’s Day you go as far away from each other as possible, go to a cliché restaurant and dine alone taking notes of all the corny things that happened. When you get back you compare notes and laugh at them. The best one was when a guy proposed dressed in a black tux going down on one knee and quoting Romeo and Juliet. Their table had a lone rose in the middle, two tall glasses of red wine and three dinner candles surrounding the rose. They guy got on one knee just as the band begun playing a corny R&B song.

It hits you that you do not know her favorite type of music. She listens to almost everything. She rarely listens to the same music twice. She says there’s so much out there it would be sad if she did not get the chance to hear at least all of them. Her playlist is weird, the first time you made love she had Metallica playing in the background. You thought it was weird but that was why you liked her in the first place so you went along – at least the screams in the song made up for her lack of screams you thought.

One night the both of you are watching a movie, a Naija one, you love pointing out the gaping holes in the plots. It has become a favorite game, you predict what will happen in the next scene and guess the number of times a character will say “chineke”. The loser goes on to make dinner and do the dishes. She moves closer to you and rests her head on your chest. She lets out a deep breath and she interlocks her fingers into yours. She says something along the lines that she is now unbroken, complete and thinks it’s time you seal the distance forever. She doesn’t want to be apart from you. You feel the same way but you like how things are. You are afraid that if they change you will drift away. So you remain silent and let the silence speak – as well as the loud Nigerian actor that just came on screen.

You start seeing a part to her you have never seen before – a woman in love. She now has a favorite song. You learn it was the song that you first made a funny rendition of when she was feeling down. She has it as a ringtone and it is on replay on her playlist. The last Valentine’s she did not like the idea of being far away from each other. She wanted a dinner date, dressed superficially at a fancy restaurant like everyone else. The woman in her had won. The calls are now more frequent than ever. When you leave in the morning she calls to wish you a good day. When you get to the office she sends you an email reminding you about lunch. At lunch she calls you to let you know she is at the restaurant. After lunch she calls to drop the L bomb.

She changed but you didn’t. You like, maybe love the old her. Now she is just like every other person you have ever dated – boring. You tell her this but she insists love has to evolve. You want to tell her it doesn’t have to but her insecurities rear their ugly heads. You have enough of it and walk away dropping thing as they are. The drop breaks her, she hates love not you. She is distant once more. There you are attracted again but you know how it will all end so you walk away – no you ran. She does not come after you until years later when your paths cross. She is married – you hear the guy wore a tux when he proposed. But she has a look in her eyes like she wants you to go and rescue her. You do just that.