Single Till You Forget How to Love

I've been single for a while... Now when I say a while, I don't mean it in the 'gay standard' of a couple of weeks, or a month... I mean for four good years.

I know, I know. I get enough shock and flabberghast from my friends and I don't need you react the same way. Everybody asks me why such a good looking (if I do say so myself), down-to-earth, keeping-it-together kind of guy can't nail down someone special. The truth is, I can't answer that. It's something that's bugged me for ages, but oh well...

At this point, let me apologise for taking forever to get back to blogging. I can assure you that I'll be getting my shit together and updating you on the covered cravings I've been experiencing. Now back to what I was saying... I've come across plenty of guys, in all shapes and sizes. I like to think of myself as 'all-consuming' and welcoming, but of late I've become more accustomed to narrowing down my preferences to what I really do prefer - masculine, discrete, good looking, intelligent, honest and a great kisser. The Lord knows I love me some lip action, so I might as well end up with someone who knows how to do it right, and has got the equipment.

In the years it's taken me to write, a lot has changed. Though I'm still working for Bernard, our (professional) relationship has drastically been altered. The physical attraction I once had has been replaced with occasional loathsomeness, contempt and blatant disinterest, though at times there are whimpers of hope that I may actually enjoy myself working for him. No more hardons or daydreams... I still suspect him though, and he has come to suspect me as well, as my colleague and girlfriend, I don't mean the relationship kind, has come to reveal.

I'm no longer best of friends with Karl, and he's no longer in a relationship with Kim. Instead, I've come to befriend Martha my workmate, with whom we've become almost inseparably tight, and gone back to being best friends with Vale. He's also got his own Martha in a Lupita Nyong'o-look a like called Sarah. We've had some crazy days... and many crazy nights... but I'll get back to that later on.

So I had an ALMOST relationship this past June. Some pals and I decided to pull a Camp Eat Out at the Coast during the low season. We got ourselves three apartments, at a really cheap rate and not too far from the beach. It was four nights of debauchery, which I ashamedly, well not really, ...actually enjoyed. Had met this guy called Peter, who's actually an ex of mine. Bad Idea. Bad Idea I tell you...

It all began a certain night my ex-colleague invited me for a house warming he was having and I bounce into Peter. Let's just say we didn't have our closure and the embers were forcefully reignited. It was a tumultous period of the demanding, the sweet-nothings and the bubble of being in love. I honestly enjoyed the feeling of having someone to cherish and call your own... it had been a minute. I even dedicated the song 'I Love You' from Chris Brown's Graffiti album - which I think was his very best to date.

That was on the bus, on our way to the Coast retreat. Naturally Peter and I got the bedroom, while the other guy got the bed in the living room. They were single bedroomed tastefully furnished Swahili style apartments that made our trip all the more fantastic, though we were rarely there. The group of close to ten of us was always out in the town, drinking and dancing ourselves silly without a worry in the world. Getting back to the crib, the nights were filled with lust and sex.

My loins had been rekindled spectacularly and Peter enjoyed every moment. It seemed he was always in the mood. I remember one day we were frolicking on the mattress in the early afternoon, next thing I knew is my swimming trunks were coming off as he lubed up and pulled my buttocks sharply to the inviting crevice between his legs. He was tight but accepting, and all I could do was moan out in ecstasy as I lost myself in the burrows of his buttocks.

'I love you, Calvin!' he'd whimper out as I pumped in and out sharply, approaching a crescendo that was often unrivalled. He surrendered it all... that was until we left the dreamy clouds of Mombasa and were slapped back into the reality of the cold hard capital.

Peter had since, in the span of two months, cheated, and it was back to being single, swearing never to get entangled with that monster that we all so desperately go back to. Failure to Launch. I remember the truth piercing my heart and only serving to remind me why it's so difficult to settle down with a guy in Nairobi. Back into my shell... I went into recoup mode...