Back in the 90’s there was a song I absolutely loved by the all girl group TLC ‘no scrubs’… and then some boy band – Sporty Thievz did a rebuttal song to this hit song and theirs went by the name ‘no pigeons’ .
In that regard, consider this blog post as a rebuttal to this post…..
Well, for starters, so much back lash is cast to the other woman as she who preys on an ‘innocent man’ and his family but rarely do we get to hear the other woman’s version of events so here goes…
You say you think about me, well, I think about you too honey. And your kids. I think about your home, the decor – whether you like pastels or browns, whether you have pets (I know you do – a thorough bred German Shepherd and a Cheshire cat, right?), how often he whips up his infamous pork ribs for you (I cherish his cooking), whether the sex is still as mind blowing as it was when you met, how often it is, how many times YOU cum in one night, whether you ever do it away from the bedroom? And when its in your bedroom is it with the lights off and under the covers? (Okay, let me retract my claws).
Lets disentangle this mess together. You and I. See he loves you, that’s not even in dispute. He does come back to you every night after all doesn’t he? He says he loves me too (you say this is just a heat of the moment kinda thing because I do back flips on his D, and no matter how many back flips I do in the sack he knows who his heart belongs to). Yes I saw that meme on KMNU. I also see how you and your stay at home mum friends call ‘us’ ugly names that we are forced to own up to – MWK meaning mpango wa kando – sidedish, clande (for the clandestine affair), home wrecker, sponsoree…. SIGH.
I know you dream about me.. Becky with the good hair (sic). You have had sleepless nights about me perhaps even day dreamed about me as you drove the kids to school; in the brand new car he got you to pacify you – as you struggle to get the dizzying and intoxicating new Evoque car smell from you head. I know you have gone through all my social media pages, you have stared endlessly at my pictures wondering what I have that you don’t (and rolled your eyes at the filtered ones) , you wonder whether its my Hermes bag or my blue Louboutins that attracted him to me, or my flawless skin. You even know where I went to school, you know where I work – you know I love pin stripes and my signature cherry lipstick. You have wondered why I rock my brown strapped Rolex in all my pictures. You’ve seen pictures of me and my girls, and with my folks and no they are not divorced. Yes I was hugged as a child, and bought for toys and cuddled and read for bedtime stories.
So why would I turn to home wrecking you ask? See It was never my intention to.
See our man IS the king on the chess board. And the both of us are queens disguised as pawns. And just like queens on the chess board , we are designed to move however we please; diagonally, horizontally, vertically – provided we do not cross paths. He has conditioned us to not meet (In chess its called the N by N queens problem). He plays the field very well I must admit. He knows what lies to placate me with to have me eating from the palm of his hand – he tells me he has another dance recital to attend and he will make it up the coming weekend by making his pork ribs and a night out. He also knows what to get both you and the kids to lay off of his case for weeks – perhaps an out of town trip.
Sweetheart, do not waste another after-sex minute cuddling with your worry, since I am sure he has not told you that we are trying for a baby. He says he will provide. I am also in a position to.. should he pull a Bill Clinton move on me. I have an amazing job and also have a good medical cover so I will comfortably check myself into the **Princess Zahra Pavillion** when the time comes. I know for sure that our baby boy Nate will have my flawless skin and HIS dimples and his very very dreamy eyes. We will however not live happily ever after. I know you shall see to it that we do not.
You, like the All American rejects will wish that this 10 year relationship will give me hell. You will hold on to him like a leech every Saturday evening and cast him the side eye when his phone vibrates, and call him 47 times on Fridays to make sure he passes by Teriyaki to bring you and the kids some take out, thus minimizing the chances of him being within arms length of my reach.
Its Okay honey… I too won’t think about you today..
I will however smile and my heart will leap for joy when he calls me on Monday morning at 7am, while in the office asking with his rich husky voice what I’m wearing and telling me that he has cleared his calendar and how would I like it if we flew to Diani for the rest of the day and later to Mombasa to pick up my brand new Evoque?