Finding your Soulmate

HAVE YOU FOUND YOUR SOULMATE?
She was standing by the white washbowl, listening or thinking, head bowed to the mirror, her hair misty, and face staring at the running water from the hot water faucet. A thick monogrammed, loosely tied white towel circumnavigated around her angelic body, hugging her torso so tenderly, slightly under her armpits to the shores of her succulent knees. She looked pretty young (she was turning 27 in a fortnight) with her blonde and long hair gravitating on her artistic shoulders. It was dark and golden, the kind you only see on the cover page of Hair Dressing magazines. She was so beautiful from the kitchen table where I sat, half-butt on the table and the other one dangling in the air. I continued sipping my coffee, vaguely, staring at her. A few seconds and I was already into her, meddling with her peace like always. She was naturally irresistible, like talking to her was wired in my mind by the logic of the universe. I could never control.

I love you to the moon and back…


“Love…” I sluggishly called her. She lifted her head, calmly yet slightly fast, she gave her face another look from the mirror, weighing her options, so she could say it all right. She turned, in her slow and romantic motion, starting with her head, her upper body and then she clearly said, giving each word brevity of time;
“Hii… Can I admire myself for a minute, please?”

Please… That phrase hit the door to the delicate chamber of my heart. Was it a fine kind of justice to blind me with her sarcasm? I glanced into her eyes. She was inhumanely beautiful. Like the grandmaster of creation had painted her face with an angelic face. Like all her features were destined to be heartbreakingly cute. She had been born into a perfect human. Life had then embraced her and graced her beauty with devastating perfection. She rolled her eyes and stared back to the mirror. All this happened in a brief of a glance, yet to me, it all seemed magical, slowly, and in a utopic world where time had stopped moving. I smiled at the lucky person I thought of myself as.
“You have to finish up this apple. We don’t grow them at the backyard hun.”

I said, waiting to hear her response. I was swaying my dangling foot like a pendulum, gripping my coffee a little harder, waiting for the explosion she would make. She never looked up this time. She was still staring at her face. I could see her angular, yet straight nose from the mirror. Curved exclusively between her breath-taking beauty. She brushed off some cotton bit on her left cheek. Right! Like the right cheek because I was looking from the mirror. She gave me that irresistible look, her bronze face telling me I am in for a surprise…

“Come on, I know you want to eat the apple. Go ahead. I am not gonna tell mama on you.”

I swallowed that along with a sip of warm coffee. In a flash of embarrassment, I dropped my eyes on the apple she left half-eaten on the kitchen table last night. Three years down the line and she still throws jesters about my eating behavior. When she graduated from LSK two years ago, we had Thanksgiving dinner at Zero 1. I literally ate a whole chicken alone, apart from the wings and small strips I left for her. She now calls me ‘Joey Chestnut’, after the guy who ate 32 burgers in one sitting. How lucky must I be? I asked myself. Before I could come up with a solid answer, she interjected.

“And stop looking at me this way, I know I am gorgeous, thank you.”

“That is a conspicuous understatement, love.” This time I was not going to let her win, was I?

“Speaking of which, I am not frustrated by that, up your game, Chestie.” She never loses, I nodded with heart.
“Okay love, you win, but only for today. We are gonna get late.” I shrunk to the wooden table, lifting my chin to grin.
“Babe, when did we start competing?”


“As soon as you asked that question, now shall we?” I replied, sighing.
She brushed it away, laughing in a horse-laughter. Then she elegantly walked to me. God, she was so stunning. She stood a brief away from me. She was smelling some fresh strawberries, exactly the scent of her shampoo. I felt my chin muscles move like I was smiling involuntarily. She pulled closer, tightening the towel around her.


“Love, don’t argue with me, I win by default. Are we cool on that?”


“Uh-huh, I thought we were not competing. Anyway, victory is not a default act.” I clumsily said to spoil the fun so she could get herself ready.


She leaned closer and clamped her hands around my back. It felt so at home like our hearts were synchronizing to beat in rhythm. Like our souls were uniting, holding hands, blending so naturally. With a tender kiss, she jumped away, like she had a hornet hovering over her mind.

“I will be ready in a flash of a second. I love you.” She shouted behind her, rushing to the bedroom.

“I don’t!” I shouted to the banging door, more to myself than to her.

I sighed. I lifted my cup to have the last sip of my coffee.

“I hate you more.” She loudly said so it could get through the walls to me.

The love of my life. My incredible girl of all my dreams and realities. We had met three years ago during an annual course. She is the same goofy type, with soft curves, fun to be around, easy to talk to, down to earth yet at the same time a priceless princess. She still doesn’t let me drive her on weekends whatsoever. She is a crazy driver, so I don’t let her drive to work or anywhere else during the weekdays. She thinks I am crazy because I love swimming in the river as if she doesn’t. I think she is crazier because she wears my baggy trousers on Sunday, or when we bike-ride.

Worse still, last year, she subscribed to online classes for me because she thinks I am poor at cooking. In return, I am conspiring to sign her to Tae Kwon Do on her birthday.

It doesn’t always happen…

I think I am that close to finding my soulmate. For now, in my real world, I have some online classes to attend. I called my ex yesterday, slightly past 0700hrs, the call she looked at her phone and let it ring to the end. I guess she threw it on the bed like it was nothing. I constantly text her, asking you if she could take me again but she always turns that down, because she could not “force” herself to love me. This not being the first time. As a mason, I am black-smithed in her aura. She was the type that doesn’t use a towel while bathing. She never used to wipe desks or lockers in the morning. I loved her for that more than anything. I once took her to Madison 19 Lounge where we spent all my school fees. Otherwise I would have graduated two years ago.
All I have, for now, is work, school, chores, and of course, a utopic girlfriend. I guess am not alone too. You probably have a utopic boyfriend too. Or an ex?

What is the craziest thing you have ever done under the influence of love? Drop it below…or at my dechat wall.
@Allantoz Cheruman.  

Allan

Author Allan

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