Creative Writing

Part 1-3: Justine M3 (Mind, Munshi, Musyoka*)

PART 1

I wanted him for me. It had nothing to do with how physically he looked but everything to do with his mind. We met on Facebook. I don’t remember our initial conversation but I texted him first after seeing his post on my page. Something about his update tagged at me.

His name was, Justine M, a law student in some African country. And a true follower of Africanism to the core. With radical ideologies on every mundane subject that would have rather been boring with any other person. But he had a way with words, thoughts. He scintillated conversations to greater heights. In turn, he mind fucked me with his brains. And I fell for him. Hard.

You can call me easy, Rose, and print out a t-shirt with those words as your tagline. I don’t care. But if you were in my shoes, you would have fallen easily too.

He played me. He played me like a maestro. Never mind that I was a grown ass woman ten years older than him. He fucked me. He truly did. Whoever said you need your nether parts to get someone all excited, lied. It’s a hoax. You just need a good mind to get someone all hot and randy. Panting. Needy. Craving.

It was all pure innocence from the start. As it always is. We were two random strangers who realized shared basic interests. For me, it had something to do with the fact that he had a good grasp of the English language. For him, I would say it was pure curiosity. Or fascination.

Our conversations grew from seconds to minutes, to hours. We talked about anything and everything. I have always fancied myself as an intellectual of sorts. But with him, I felt I knew nothing. I felt like I was a new babe. With his mind, he introduced me to a whole new world of other topics, ideals, ideologies.  He made me see the world in a kaleidoscope of multi-colores. I saw a whole new world through his mind. His arrayed topics, easy way of expressing thoughts, without smothering, was charming. He called out to my sapio tendencies. And I had multiple orgasms in his wake.

He made me feel reborn, rejuvenated. His mind was a work of art. Its intricacies in its minute ways, worthy of discovery. In the embrace of his mind and his charismatic personality, I became a student.

Many a night after our long chats that dragged into the wee hours of the night, I would scrounge the internet, researching. I would remember he said something, mentioned a topic, and I would want to know it in detail. Truly, I was not obsessed, rather, captivated.

Justine had a way with his words, how he would pause(I would hear it in my mind) before responding to any query. He confessed once that he was always cautious, even in texting. His words had to match with his thoughts. As his, every word echoed his convictions.How overzealous, I remembered thinking. But I admired him for that. But I also wondered how many people, arranged their thoughts, mulled them over, before responding.

I fancied myself in love with him in due course. Mind, at this juncture we had never met. But it didn’t matter. I would’ve dated his brains any day. And fucked them too. Absurd much? Not really.

You see, different people experience love or flight of fancies of it in different ways. It’s all about the senses. In my case, my mind is my clit. When it gets tickled the right kind of way, I, Rose, wants a good romping. And I love, sometimes. Or I get caught up between lust and love. Anyway…

Justine responded in kind. He was interested in me. He thought I was attractive and interesting. He wanted to meet me when he came back to Nairobi for the holidays. I wanted to meet him too. He was my, Munshi, just like in the movie,  Victoria & Abdul. He understood me and he was fearlessly honest and supportive. Or so I thought at least.

I never got to meet Justine that first time he came for the holidays. I chickened out. He was pissed as hell. He didn’t want anything to do with me after that. And he punished me with his silence and indifference. To say the truth, those were hard times but I understood. He hated disappointments and he was reacting to what I had done.

In retrospect, maybe it would have been a warning sign. But I was far gone. I wanted him. I was like a moth drawn to the lamplight. It didn’t matter how bad I will be burnt in the end. He was my light and I wanted to bask in his glow.

I courted Justin with patience and understanding. In time, he came around. And he forgave me. By now, he had already gone back to school and he was halfway through his school calendar when we were okay again. I was happy. My munshi was back. And we were tighter than before. Or so I imagined.

While writing this, I can’t help but wonder if all was orchestrated. And I can’t help pondering on one of his favorite sayings, the end justifies the means. And if it was a case of being led to the slaughterhouse while being fattened up. Justine figuratively and literally fucked me up.

PART 2

You have to understand that for me, Rose, when a guy orgasms my mind, I literally pant like a bitch on heat. I become blind to everything else; save how many orgasms he can ring out every time he let’s me have a sneak peak of how his brains work.

Justine had that going on for him. The more he shared his mind with me, the more I lost control, lost my way. I wanted him. It was a subconscious thing. It wasn’t even sexual to begin with. I just wanted to be a lover of his mind more than his body. And for the first time in a long while, I associated with a guy not thinking how long his dick was. Rather, how many orgasms  I could get for butting his brains with mine. It was amazing. And I started falling for him despite it not being the case at first.

I was not into Justine in the beginning. What with the age difference. I was 30 years old and he, 10 years younger. I didn’t do Ben 10s. It probably had to do with something once a friend of mine said: younger guys are immature and they are indecisive. But Justine was different. He was anything but what my friend had pointed out a long time ago. Or other older guys I had a pleasure of acquainting myself with.

Justine was: liberal,  smarter, confident, engaging, focused. Hell, he used to make me feel like a freaking kid – all inexperienced and unworldly. On the other hand, he was sophisticated and convicted in his convictions.

The first time Justine told me he was into me, I was freaked out. What was I to do with a 20-year-old love, for fuck’s sakes? I didn’t want to steal from the cradle! But I was flattered.

At the time I was dating this guy who was so amazing but got on my nerves. I have never gotten over the fact that he used to laugh like a braying donkey. Nor how loud he could be in public causing annoying glances to be thrown our way. Despite that, there was a possibility of a future with him and I stuck it out, keeping it platonic with Justine.

Things got amazingly difficult with my then guy when I realized he was a  sexist and a male chauvinist. I couldn’t date a guy whose mindset was set in an archaic era, where a woman was only good to be seen not heard. Where a man was to be worshiped on the ground he walked on and the woman, follow him around like a sheep. Man, my daddy taught me better. He taught me to be my own woman and still be submissive. I was taking that kind of shit from nobody. I walked and never looked back.

On the other hand, things were getting heated up with Justine. I started noticing him as a man. It was disturbing to say the least. Here I was, already on the shelf according to the obnoxious blogger, Nyakundi, and there was this young guy, interested in me as a woman. What was I to do?

PART 3

I fell for him. I know it sounds crazy. I mean there is a lot of complexities associated with one on one dating. The internet sure as hell would be even harder. But well, you know what they say about the heart; it wants what it wants. And besides, I am a firm believer that connection between two people transcends everything else. It is not factored only on the physical but the intangible too. It focuses more on the inside rather than the outward.

I tried fighting off my attraction towards him. Many a night I had to give myself prep talks on why we couldn’t be but Justine wouldn’t let me. He was persistent. He would send me these articles on why we could be. Articles that negated age but focused on emotions, connections. He would send me this video links on women who were older but dating younger guys and how happy they were. I remember this particular video that actually turned the tide for me. That made me believe we could be.

The video was of a certain 50-year-old French lady who was narrating of how a 29-year-old man pursued her romantically and she gave in. Theirs was a story of passion, lust, and love. It was in the tone of the way she expressed herself. It was so sincere, honest and raw. The passionate way she spoke of her young lover, tore my heart, made me ache for her. It made me wonder and think of what-ifs with Justine. And for the first time, I stopped fighting my feelings and embraced them. If that French lady could have been happy with her young love, I could be too. And if at some point I had to let go of Justine as she did her lover, I would. But at least I would have known what it felt like to just love at that moment in time.

I was delusional when I think about it right now. I was so adamant in wanting it to work out that I was blind to Justine’s manipulations. He made everything sound like it was about me. I should have known better of a guy who unashamedly admitted to being a strategist. Or rather a guy whose favorite author was Robert Greene of the famed book, The Art of Seduction. And who admitted to me once, that he practiced The Art of War, Sun Tzu. Even in love.

Damn it! I am mad as hell. I got played and l lost big time. I was never a player to begin with, but just a pawn in his mind games.

Ladies, be wary of guys who serenade you with their charm. Or how disarming they are. They are the worst. They come in different forms. They may be the sweetest, most understanding of them all. And they have a way of making you feel special, secure and in control. But are you? They are hard to pin down because they are genuine and amazing. They do not come on you the old-fashioned way. You know where they are all over you and are intentional in getting into your pants? They don’t play like that. They are suave. They are amazing and nice but have a certain element to them – they are edgy and interesting. And they are gentlemanly. They are the kind who you fall for without realizing how it happened. As it was the case for me with Justine.

Part 4,5 and 6 coming up tomorrow. 

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Florence Kimuyu

Florence Kimuyu is a lover of literature and anything artistry. She fancies herself as a sapio who has a penchant for the crazy, fun things in life with a twist for the morbid and fascinating dilemmas of life. Aside from that, she is also convinced, the only way to fight social and cultural stigmatization and backward thinking is yanking the horn where it hurts the most (in this case, where it matters)
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