I love my wife. This should be the norm,
but it is surprising just how many of my friends loathe their wives. To be fair
to them, it takes quite some feet to live day in day out with another human
being considering they are in possession of all their faculties and have the
ability to make independent decisions half of which may not fly with you. It is
a world of a 99 compromises, and losing your peace is not one of them.
My wife, like many other wives, makes her
own independent decisions. It is a good thing, though sometimes I wish we were
like literally one thing and our interests are so in sync that whatever
decision she makes big or small will please me. Like when I want to get myself
a Rottweiler, she would just go along with the idea. She would find me
extremely thoughtful and a maverick in my own small ways. Or better yet, she
would graciously exile herself when I want to call my buddies over and spend
the whole day playing wager FIFA. Selfish huh! Anyway it is the real world and beggars
do not ride horses.
Some good news though, I have been reading
them inspirational books, and I came across this one statement that really hit
a cord with me. This author (can’t remember the name) was of the opinion that
life is not what happens to you, but how you react to situations (the
happenings). Not that I am complaining about life or my marriage. By any measure
it is a blissful one. Yeah I am living those happily ever after kind of
marriages. But this statement got me thinking I could make things even better.
Talk of trying to fix it when it aint broke!
So I decided I’m going to react in the best
possible way to my wife’s independence. Instead of having her conform to my
every whim, I’m gonna try and figure out how the marriage has changed her, the
little nuances. I’m going to figure out what tickles her fancy now that she is older,
and a little different (in a nice way)from the all-out frisky, free spirit I
was dating.
I start working on my new resolve with the
zeal of a KANU era sycophant. I want this to be special; I want whatever I come
up with to be a surprise. However there is only one small problem with this
approach, the lady of the house knows me like the back . . . urg! She really knows me, which is a little
unnerving, but hey. Nothing I do for her has the desired effect I really want,
and I can tell it from the faked delight. I would like to believe it is the
only thing she fakes. In short
ananioenea eighteen nikikuja. It is week 27 and I am starting to lose the
morale.
One night, I’ve just entered the master
from the bathroom. I started brushing before going to bed ever since I got
married for reasons so banal I’m not going to highlight on this forum. She is already
in bed, the TV remote controller in her hand. Some women’s talk show is on and
she barely notices me disrobing. Lucky for her she got a hubby who can sleep
through an earthquake, so the late night shows have never been an issue.
I am drifting off to slumber land when I
hear the show host declaring that every girl, she insists on the “every” part
quite passionately. My attention is piqued. Every girl would absolutely love to
have a gay man friend. Yeah that is what she said! I have no idea why search a
person is a must have, but all these images of those flaccid TV characters with
squeaky voices and brightly dressed came to mind. Why do they always have them
nerdy glasses? I did not think much of the comment, but it being my last
thought; it naturally made its way into my dreams.
I saw my wife. She was with a man; she seemed
to thoroughly enjoy his presence. The dream was fleeting but I can remember the
background was a boutique. Or was it a shoe shop? What I am sure of the gel on
the man’s hair would put J Koinange’s to shame. He wore red cropped pants and
was seemingly allergic to dirt. What got me though, is that the missus
absolutely loved everything he picked for her in that store. She never likes
anything I suggest; it is always too . . . something.
You think, I would hate this guy or at
least feel jealous? Isn’t it only natural? But I can’t. He is only a man in my
dreams. If anything I should be ashamed of myself. Why is a gay man in my
dreams? Does that make him the man of my dreams? Am I (even minutely) gay? Why
am I not pleasing my wife in my own damn dream? So I force myself to like this
guy. It makes me feel good about myself. In any case, he was doing something
akin to magic, albeit in a dream. Being in a variety store, and making my wife
decide without much of a hassle. That is reason enough to like this guy if you
have ever been in a variety store of any sort with babe.
So the entire morning I am at the office,
mulling over this dream. I am going all Nebuchadnezzar over the “wonderings” of
my mind the previous night. I do not have wise men at my disposal or seers so I
have to figure this thing out alone. It is 4:30 pm after long hours and little
work done (thank god for whoever convinced us that delegation is good), I get
my eureka moment. Haile needs a gay man friend. I realize that a man is either
nuts, or has swallowed a king size humble pie to entertain such a thought, and
way more loose nuts to even contemplate ways of realizing this.
I am a normal man, so I quickly dismiss the
idea and go on with my amazing life. Nine days later the thought is still stuck
in my mind like a Marilyn Monroe pic. It follows me around like that street
urchin who wants “kobore ya mandazi”, and I gently try to tell the inner voice,
“aki sina leo bradhe.” The voice simmers for leo and waits for kesho so that it
can erupt and nag again the whole day.
Finally I give in after a few days and
reach into my pocket for the “kobore”, a fifty bill comes out and I can’t put
it back. That is how iffy giving into a crazy idea can be.
You would think finding gay people in
Africa is akin to mining, considering how intolerant and prejudiced we are, Lo
and behold, all I needed was a quick facebook search. Found twenty groups in my
town alone. So I thumb through the various profiles looking for the “most
acceptable” among them.
I settle on one, his bio pleases me and the
avatar is the most girly of them all. The image on the avi is light skin, and
he spots long hair. I am walking on unchartered territory here and there are no
defined rules on how to pick them. So I make my own and blend them with my
inner manly compass. Wait a minute . . . what the! What pleases me the most his
bio says that he is seven years older than me. I don’t quite believe it because
his pictures make him my age mate. If there is any truth to it, then he is
eleven more than Haile. If there were any rules for doing this, I bet my heart
that this would be the cardinal one.
Anyways a man has to do what he has to do,
and I am swallowing my frog in the morning.
I reach out to him. He is a little apprehensive at first, good thing I
wrote on his wall and did not inbox him. A “social media expert” once told me
it creates a subtle image of “openness” and “goodwill”.
There are many details, but the short of it
is that we somehow hit it off. He turns out to be an amazing guy. I develop an
honest liking for him, and I want to hang out with him more than with my
traditional friends. Weeks into the new “relationship”, I am having second
thoughts about “gifting” him to my wife. Childish heh! But I am who I am.
By some amazing grace I overcome my
selfishness, and take it to the next level. No more meeting at the golf course
or during the game or anywhere away from home. I take him home. It was a rained
down Friday when we first went to my house. I sensed a chill in him for Haile,
but wifey was her usual bubbly self. Too
eager to play wonderful host she did not notice.
I kind of . . . no, I REALLY liked the fact
that he was more fond of me than Haile. Finally I was above her in this area.
Everybody loves the wife wherever there are visitors around. My parent, her
parent, my friends, her friends, neighbours, the neighbours kids even Jehovah’s
witnesses. Now it was my turn and I was going to savour every jiffy.
Evil conniving Haile however always has an
ace up her sleeve. Her bewitching charm. By the time the evening is over, the
lad had opened up to her, and they had struck some form of rapport.
“I really like Prexidious,” she quipped
when the taxi peeled away taking our new friend back to his place. “You really
should have more friends like him, akina Mato and Jaymo are absolutely no good.”
She declared as she walked up to the house, leaving me behind to close the
gate. I followed her back into the house, a feeling of trepidation hanging over
my head. What had I just done? What if I changed my mind about this whole experiment,
or this Prexidious guy? Would I be stuck with him, because my wife likes him?
What if he magically turns straight and takes my wife? What will I say to
people? What if? What if? What if? I counted them that night like sheep until mercifully
sleep came to my rescue.
Not long after, Haile stole my friend. They
were always hanging out and making her smile in ways I could not. It made me
happy, and yet apprehensive. Could he possibly replace me? This friendship
technically is cheating, I thought. Still I consoled myself; he is for all
purposes and intent, a girl. I even entertained the thought of having a three
people relationship where the other two were, as far as I am concerned, girls.
Just in case things go south in this arrangement, I will be at peace knowing
that it was not because of an inadequacy on my part.
All in all, that is how my dream came true
and I ended up in a complicated relationship. A year down the line, things were
still holding up.
We were in bed, my wife and I, just the two
of us hehehe. She was watching those late night talk shows she really loved and
I was typing out a story on my laptop. The missus suddenly jabbed my ribs with
the point of her elbow so hard, I almost screamed. “Are you trying to kill me
woman?” I hissed out through gritted teeth. “I just realised what you did with
Prexidious, I surely did not see that coming. Nice move babe.” But do I say, I
love my wife.
