Diary,
The past is a cruel mistress. You might ignore her all you want, but when she sets her eyes on you, she bites like a rabid dog. In my case, I’m talking literally.
A few days ago, a woman sought me out on social media, talking about how she’d seen me around the hospital, looking manly but sexy in my scrubs. Every guy has an ego that loves to be stroked. I’m no different. Actually, I am. I have an ego the size of Kilimanjaro, and the slightest hint of praise swells my head to the size of a prize-winning melon.
The woman’s profile pic was a simple rose, the classic ruse employed by people who know genetics didn’t play fair with their looks. It took some persuading to have her send me an actual photo.
I’m being catfished, I thought the moment I saw the pic. I mean, it was like staring at Sarah Hassan’s prettier sister. And she was wooing me? This I had to see with my own eyes. So, I suggested we meet. Photo filters on social media will sell you Grace Ekirapa but deliver Shrek.
Last evening, we met at a restaurant in town, and boy, oh boy. The pictures didn’t do her justice. Forget Natalie Tewa, this woman was an angel straight from heaven. Well, supposing there’s a heaven where angels are female.
As we ate, she kept sending signals. Flashing a sumptuous thigh, playing with her low-cut dress, touching my hand, eating a banana — you know, stuff like that. Not one to take anything for granted, I considered it innocent flirtation, until towards the end of dinner, when she made her intentions known.
“Can we skip the movie?” she said. “I hope your bed can withstand what it has coming tonight.”
I couldn’t pay for the cheque fast enough. I tipped the waiter with a brown note. I was feeling lucky.
Outside, she touched my cheek and said, “How does it feel?”
“It’s too soon to ask that question, isn’t it?”
“No, I mean how does it feel to want something and never get it? My real name is Imani Kamene. Ring a bell?”
Oh, boy, did it. Imani was the ugliest duck back in my primary school days, who had decided, to my chagrin, that her heart belonged to only me, while I was busy chasing Jennifer.
As I watched Imani enter an Uber last night, it hit me just how much the past can bite. And it does bite hard.