Nyameko/ November 26, 2019/ Archive, Works/ 0 comments

Getting caught with your pants down is one thing. Getting caught with your pants down, your dick in one hand and your ex’s panties in the other hand is completely different kettle of fish. Even more so if you were caught vigorously helping yourself to the tune of her fucking the new guy in the bathroom stall you had followed them into.

I had somehow found myself in that situation. It wasn’t my fault. I loved her too much, I had to have her. Why couldn’t she see how much I felt for her? Didn’t she understand she prowled my thoughts every second of every day?

The disgusted look she had on her face told me she didn’t. She didn’t even take her underwear as she stormed out, with him following her. I was too busy putting on my pants to follow her. I missed that opportunity to connect with her even if for a second.Life is so unfair.

I wanted to tell her how much I loved her and how much I wanted her to come back to me. That I was the man for her. That I was nothing without her. She had to come back, she must come back, she WOULD come back. I just had to be patient and bide my time. People who are meant to be will always end up together. Too many movies end like that for it not to be true. I couldn’t give up on that hope, even if it felt unrealistic.

2 days after the restaurant and she still hadn’t called. I had checked her social networks. There was nothing, only unanswered inboxes. His profile was deleted and blocked. I even drove past her house a few times to see if she had come home. The hour to her house was hopeful, the hour back gloomy.

The idea she may have opened a new Facebook account, popped a few times into my head. It was soon dismissed when I saw her friends profiles. It took me a day to search through Facebook for clues. I even had to take a day off. All her friends’ recent friends didn’t have any of her signature social media quirks. There was no overuse of ellipses, none of her characteristic misspelling of Saturday and no quotes from obscure authors. Also they were all five year old profiles. None of them could be her.

Unless she had a fake account to chat to other men while we were together. That seemed a little far-fetched for even a liar like her. After all why would she want another man? I was and still am the best man for her. I changed my whole life for her. I gave her everything, I gave up my friends and moved us to a different province so we could be together without distractions. I had been perfect, she hadn’t been. It was all her fault. I didn’t want to play the blame game with the future mother of my kids, but that bitch was unkind, uncaring and unfair to me.

I stopped driving past her house and just decided to park there. Four weeks passed and still no word. My employers started complaining about the sick days, so I quit now I could be always be here and wait for her. I tried talking to a friend of mine Mzi, but he was too busy dealing with his own issues to be a friend to me. At least he listened though. He somehow could not understand how I felt. He seemed horrified at what was happening. He didn’t seem impressed with how determined I was to be with her. As if I hadn’t seen him when chasing women and being persistent. His favourite saying was “the first “no’ is a test, the second “no’ is a warning, the third is jail. Don’t get to the second “no””. I was just being persistent like him.

I was trying to be like him and he was telling me I had to leave it alone. How dare he betray my trust like that? He was supposed to have my back. He didn’t even want to listen as I told him how unfair it all was to me. His reply: “nothing is fair, therefore everything is fair”. As if that would fix the pain. How could he be so unkind, just because he had his life together. He was looking down on me, just like her. They were probably talking about me whenever I left the room. That’s why he wanted me to leave her alone. He wants her for himself.

The phone ringing at that moment reminded me of the buzzer on a game show when you get something right. Maybe it was God telling me I’m right about them? Ironically it was her calling me. “Had she seen my car outside her street? No, she hadn’t been home in weeks. Had she called my work and heard I had quit? It didn’t matter anymore. I didn’t need to worry anymore. She was calling me. We could finally get back to normal. We would talk and be over the bumpy patch.”

“We need to talk, can we meet up?” was all she said. I hadn’t expected her to be so businesslike. She must be hiding her emotions, or is she feeling humiliation and regret for all the things she did to me. “Sure, we can meet. When? Tomorrow again?” I had to act cool. She had to work for my attention again. Now she knew she was nothing without me and she was crawling on her knees back to me. She would stay on those knees until she washed out his taste from her mouth. I would not take anyone’s sloppy seconds. “No, not tomorrow. Can you come to my house in 2 hours? I will be home by then.” If she hadn’t seen my car and she hadn’t been home in weeks. Where was she staying? That didn’t matter anymore. ” Sure I can make it, should I bring anything? Maybe a bottle of wine?” “No , don’t bring anything. Just bring yourself”. “I like the sound of th…” She had dropped the phone. It must have been a mistake, we were finally going to be together again.

The love of my life wants me to come to her house to talk. I was so happy. We could finally work things out. But why didn’t she want me to bring anything? She knows I find showing up at someone’s house without something very rude. Maybe she sees her house as our home and therefore doesn’t feel I have to bring anything. She did say just bring myself, that was very suggestive. I’m sure she missed the things I did for and to her. I couldn’t wait to see her naked and on her knees begging me to give her a pearl necklace.

I drove home as if the devil himself was chasing me. I almost hit a child playing in the street but someone pulled him out of the way in time. I didn’t even stop. He was not going to help me get her back, therefore he was insignificant. In fact stopping to check would just be more time away from her. How dare he stand in my way? I wondered what a hit and run felt like. Swoosh in and a life was gone, and be gone before they hit the ground. You wouldn’t even have to see the sack of meat and crushed bones afterwards. That was power and anonymity. You wouldn’t even be sure you had in fact killed that person.

I took a quick shower. I couldn’t stop myself reaching down and rubbing myself as thoughts, of her kneeling in front of me and the sound of wheel breaking bone, swam through my mind. I didn’t realise I was screaming as I climaxed like never before even with her. I had to take a moment to get over the vertigo and nausea as I came down from my high. I almost didn’t realise I was nearly out of time.

I had a hard time picking clothes. Everything seemed inappropriate for what I had in mind. I decided on the white T-shirt she had bought for me, along with the dark jeans she had nagged me to get. Next came the brown leather converse sneakers we had bought to match as a couple. Her favourite brown watch finished the look off. She loved this kind of look on me. She wouldn’t be able to resist me. Maybe she would get a necklace or even a shower if she was good tonight.

The ride back to our home was a battle with doubt. What if she was just calling to check if she had inflicted enough damage? That would be just like her. The whore probably wants to see if I miss her. She just wants to keep me hoping for her. She doesn’t want me with another woman. She wants me all to herself. Or maybe she just wanted sex. But then didn’t she have him? With his spear, why would she want my dagger? Thinking about them together was bringing those familiar feelings again. Maybe they were going to ask me to join them. Being in the middle of them and being the centre of their attention would be heavenly. My hands itched as I thought about how it would be like to hold him in my hands and pull him deep into my mouth. “NO! That’s gay and against everything you believe in.” I slashed the image from my mind, but that didn’t help the feeling in my jeans.

I finally made it to our home. The lights were on for the first time in weeks. It’s a good thing I kept her porch plants watered, I quickly picked a few flowers and made a bouquet with my hair tie. It looked really inviting. I walked enthusiastically to her door. There were sounds coming from inside. It was a familiar man’s voice. I just wasn’t sure whose. Was I right? Was this a plan to have me join their lovemaking? I was bursting out of my jeans by the time I knocked on the door.

She opened the door “hello, please come in” I tested: “thank you, how have you been?” “I have been well, I’m glad you came. Please make yourself comfortable in the lounge. I’ll be with you shortly, I have to get something,” She replied. I walked to down the dimly lit corridor nearly tripping on the small Persian rug in the centre. Nevertheless I kept walking, I didn’t have to look back to see she was still looking at me. The mirror at the end of the hallway saw to that.

As always the lounge was spotless, with a hint of lavender. The sofa’s were arranged in a rough C shape with the fireplace as the focus. There were bookshelves scattered around the room. The books covered every possible subject you could think off. We had been ravenous readers when we were single. As a couple our avaricious appetite knew no bounds. We had spent many nights in this room just reading. I could still remember how it felt to be sandwiched between the cool leather and her warm skin.

She would be coming back soon, with him! Tonight was going to be amazing! A completely different sandwich. I was stiffening just thinking about it. I undid my belt to ease the pressure. “With what was going to happen tonight, it wasn’t overstepping.” The pressure was still too much. I had to take the jeans off. I did. Now I looked ridiculous, I had to take off the t-shirt. Now I was a naked man in socks and boxers, standing in my cheating girlfriend’s house waiting for her to come back with her lover so I could give myself to them. That was the thought running through my mind as everyone I know came into the lounge, with Mzi carrying a sign reading “intervention”.

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About Nyameko

Nyameko Ishmael Bottoman (Nimz) is a professional paragraph wrangler. He spends his time with his head in the clouds and his boots on the neck of misbehaving metaphors. He prides himself on being a super nanny to adolescent puns.

When he is not busy being the gatekeeper to unruly onomatopoeia he keeps himself busy with writing children’s books, English education fan fiction, and noun-verb erotica.”

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