How I Met Jane

She was sitted the row opposite me. I noticed her after the bride and groom passed next to her after exchanging their vows. A lady with a white dress decorated with red and blue flowers all over. She caught my eye. A lady with class, dressed like a model, a face which the sun caused the sparkle on it, a natural dark skin and a cleavage which could cause the groom to think twice, African beauty. She almost kicked the bride out of position one in beauty contest by a landslide on that day.
The susceptibility of me liking her was higher than the Eiffel Tower. My freight was how to start a conversation. I don’t want to go to her and start stammering. I was gathering my courage and braveness.
Me; Hae, my name is Bond, James Bond.
Technically I didn’t say that because I was still sitted in my sit like a dog with its tail between its legs. But how cool would that sound if that was my name and I said it to her. I once tried saying my name that way. Trust me, if your name is long, that shit doesn’t work. It kills the whole vibe. So let’s scrap that part off. Now back to my seat. I was still staring at her. Gathering my courage took too long but finally I decided to go. I pressed the “fuck it” button and headed on. I’m the man. Who do you think Aloe Blacc was doing a favour to when he sang it? Against all odds I decided to risk it. A skinny dude against a silent soul covered with beauty. Like King Leonidas and the three hundred Spartans against a battalion of soldiers. Furthermore, THIS IS SPARTA.
Is she into serious dudes or funny ones? Should I start telling her my decayed vibes or start by making my crass and tasteless jokes?
Me; hey, excuse me. Sorry for the disturbance, but I couldn’t help to notice your beautiful dress.
Her; aaawww!! Thank you. (that sound kills me everytime, dead kuff dead. Like literally it makes me weak).
"Has anybody told you how pretty you look today? If not, let
me be the first."
"Are you flirting with me?"
"Maybe, maybe not. I just want the lady facing me feel appreciated for her existence. It doesn’t hurt to tell the truth."
"Sorry but I’m into ladies" (lesbian alert).
"Wow! Me too. We already have something in common.
"Hahaha… you should go home young man."
"I’m already home. All I lack now is the key to your heart and your number too incase I come home late next time"
"Okay now you are insane."
"Yeah I know, I can also be crazy for your love too."
This went on for sometime. She was laughing all through. All I lacked was a band or a song to back me up. Maybe Haiya by Harry Kimani or Sitaki by Pascal Tokodi would have fit in. Don’t ask how I made it cause I’m not going to tell you, mwanaume ni kujitegemea. Remember THIS IS SPARTA. Luckily the man down stairs behaved all through. No standing ovations were given. I should give him more pilitons next time. When I left her she was walking me back to my seat with her eyes. “Mama I made it” was the thought that screamed in my head. She seemed impressed by my words. Later the wedding was over. As we were about to leave for home, she came running towards me with a piece of paper and handed it to me.
“Hey, again. I’m Jane, call me, or maybe text me. Any can do.”
“Is this your number?”
“Maybe, maybe not. Why don’t you call and find out?”
I couldn’t believe she came back after all the words I said to impress her. The skinny dude won the battle. Victory is all mine today.
“I’m sure I’m having my teenage wet dreams tonight.”



It wouldn’t hurt to share…


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