I hate guys
Because they don’t shower regularly.
But we take longer to smell, we don’t have to shower regularly.
Girls are more sensitive to smells.
Are you a lesbian? Why are you talking to me then?
Because you are far away from me and I cannot not see you.
My smartphone beeped, the conversation cut, before I could ask her whether she was still coming to meet me. I slid it into the pocket of my blue tight jeans and looked at the tall white buildings ahead of me blankly. Would it be appropriate to meet her?
Barely had I gone back two steps when my phone whistled, signalling a watsapp message.
‘I am at the coffee shop. Hurry before my boyfriend comes back.’
She could have been anything but a normal girl, which made me want to meet her all the more. I had met normal girls all the time; those who expect you to read their minds and buy them what they want without telling you, and those who think that you carry full conversations in your voice box and all they need is to nod to your genius mind. She was different. She would call me in the middle of the night to start a romantic conversation, or send me her pictures before I requested for them. She was even the one who proposed that we meet. I only hoped that she was not a he. I was not prepared to meet a gay person. I took a few sniffs of the air around me, and decided that the olfactory capabilities of my blind date had not developed to such an extent of branding me hydrophobic, unless she was from another planet. I had also taken caution and used some sweet smelling Aqua cologne.
Another watsapp message whistled.
‘Curiosity killed the lion. Keep walking Johnie.’
I stopped for a moment and looked around. The evening breeze was blowing scaringly slow, and the evening sun was like a ball of red hot charcoal on the Eastern horizon casting a long shadow behind me. A shadow taller than I, yet having the same energy and movements or maybe even more. Shadows are hard to detect, and most people are never actually aware of them. I was glad I was stepping on it, or at least on its feet. Shadows taller than me had scared me since when I was young. I remembered one day trying to walk on one but failed miserably. Our science teacher had called me a genius for being very experimental . I tried to recall the last time I was in a ring, and encouraged myself that my fighting skills were still apt.
The coffee shop had only one old man with a large bushy beard seeping a cup of steaming hot coffee. He looked at me with eyes that bayed for my flesh. I did not stop to say hi, and he did not seem bothered. I removed the phone from my pocket and started dialling Suzie’s number. The heavy presence of a person behind me made my body hairs stand on edges. I turned with a 360 degrees round house kick that was aimed at the head of my supposed attacker.
She ducked before it could hit her, and swept my single foot off the ground. She was on top of me even before I hit the ground with a loud thud.
The old man laughed uncontrollably, spilling his coffee.
“Tae kwon do meets JuJitsu. Welcome to the world of martial arts, and stop playing a martial sport.” She added weight to these words by pressing harder on my back. I was already finding it hard to breathe on the dust, and my chest heaved restlessly, my arm outstretched on the ground.
“That’s how marital affairs are nowadays, women are on top of men.” The old man acknowledged her statement, and laughed out even more loudly. It seems the only martial arts the old man had heard of or seen was karate movies on TV and cinema. Everything else was marital. I would not be surprised if he called me ‘Tae Kwon Do’, and her ‘Jujitsu’.
Lust boiled inside me, more than the anger that could have enabled me put up a fight. She was well endowed, dressed only in a red dress top and black tights with open sandals complementing her feet. The pictures she had sent me were only a fraction of what was on top of me. Tae Kwon Do was a child’s game compared to Jujitsu, for all I cared then.