You met at some bash, probably your friend’s birthday party because without connections in this era you will live to hurt the little guy down there. You exchanged contacts and within two weeks you both feel each other’s vibe. Having late night talks planning on meet ups and all.
In a months time you are in a “relationship” . Cute statuses takes a new normal on WhatsApp. You already had two sleepovers, 2 dates in Pepinos and all. You do not know about each other’s past because it is too soon to be inquisitive. But here is what he/she will never tell you:
She lives with her two friends in a bedsitter along Thika road. Her bio reads that she’s bisexual. She tells you that she’s bipolar. She got two male best friends, a friend with benefits, four exes and still is in contact with two. She has hot major daddy issues, she is broke but somehow always survives. She would rather go hungry but have a make up kit with her.
He also lives somewhere along Thika Road. Most of the times he is broke but wants to smash everyone that crosses his existence. He has three girl besties, two girlfriends (you excluded), smashes his cousin, and two baby mamas. Investment is a foreign term to him as he always wears “designer” . What you don’t know is that your mutual friend set you up.
After a couple of months you get tired of each other. No vibe at all. This is after shagging a couple of times. The interesting part is that he introduced you to his friend who is halfway to your pants. You introduced him to your three friends in which he proceeded to gobble up one and they didn’t tell you.
He dumped you two weeks ago but you have not noticed yet. You later find out he smashed your friend so you smash his friend who was set up. You add your body count and you never notice that you are getting played.
You break up, find another guy and the cycle continues.
And deep down in the wee hours of the night, you sit still under nightfall. Alone in your thoughts with your heart attached. Sinking deeper in the debauchery, as your mind elapses with pale moonlight piercing into your soul. If any shred of it remained. But love looks not with the eye, but with the mind. As your vision searches down the arrow of time, behind the winged cupid, shooting blind, flowing deeper and deeper without knowing where. But if it’s desire that scours pointless time, then I guess you shouldn’t care.