Love That Ended Before It Began

I have quite a good number of failed talking stages but one that still lingers in my memory is of that lady I met in a matatu.

On that fateful day, I hadn’t intended to throw a shot at her. She was all beautiful and bootyfull but my 9-to-5 job had drained all my energy to even spare a line on her.

But seemingly, my ancestors had gathered in my favour. She was the type that pays bus fare with Mpesa. And while she was at it, her phone went off before the transaction could be completed.

Looking all worried and confused, she turned to me and asked, “unaeza kua na 80 bob hapo? phone yangu imezima before nitume pesa.” It was at this point that I realised she had a voice worth soothing my heart. Likewise to say, apart from her walking around with all that beauty, she also had a voice that could beat Adele on vocals.

Anyway, I foraged in my pocket and fished out a Ksh 200 note and gave it to her. She whispered a thank you then flashed a lazy smile. Around the same time, the conductor came inquiring, “ebu nione message,” in a tone of mistrust.

The lady later insisted on texting herself using my phone so that she could get my number to refund the money when she got home. In actual sense, I didn’t want her to refund, but I still wanted her number.

The back and forth created a great rapport. We engaged on random conversations such as how some conductors can be ruthless when such an incident happens and also how the weather has been so unfavourable recently. However, she didn’t mention if she was single. I neither asked, my bad.

When I saw that “…confirmed you have received Ksh 200 from…” text later that night, I felt the urge to get to know her even more. Her rizz had grasped my interest and wouldn’t mind making her mine.

She was superb at texting and extreme fast with her replies. On calls, she wasn’t that talkative but was fun listening to. I found myself smiling at every notification that read her name.

It became a norm keeping up with conversations daily, asking random questions – we would delve into what our love languages were, to our toxic traits and to the cliché questions of our favorite colours, type of music and movies.

She had exes that teared her heart apart and left her with dents that she was healing from. Despite the dark past, she still confessed to give love a second chance. Perchance, that was the opportune time for me to attack. But I didn’t.

She was my dream girl, no doubt. Our interests matched and we hated almost the same things – we would make a super great team. Just us against y’all. Beyonce and Jay Z would never have a thing on us.

At this point, like two months into it, everything was at gray area. Our feelings were mutual but no title stamped on the bond. Deep down, we both knew things could work but none of us seemed ready to bring up the conversations.

If she had thrown at me that famous, “what are we?” Question, bruuuh! This story would have a different ending.

But unlike a fairytale, this is how it ends…

All that fantasy and infatuation vanished. Just like that. At a blink of an eye. No apparent reason attached. Perhaps, I delayed to give her a clear direction or maybe she got married. Most probably the latter.

Now I am here left with a load of information about someone’s daughter. I can literally write a whole biography about her.