Wednesday, 5 November 2014

Otherwise Occupied

Every time I have tried numerous times to continue this story and keep finding myself not only choking on my own tears and tripping words on top of one another but also experiencing very violent and acute nausea.

I am dying to get everything out of my head and my heart but there is still so much to say and for some odd reason I feel like I have run out of time to say it without actually knowing why. So much has happened, so much hasn’t happened and where things have changed a lot of things have just remained the same and stagnant.

Just to give an idea of how far this story still has to go, let me just say that as of the last post made in August we were still firmly in September/October of the previous year. I have never hidden the fact that I am writing in retrospect, a lot of things will become clear as I write more as to why there has been such a huge pause in instalments and also why it is becoming heavier and heavier. As has become my nature I can’t apologise enough for the forced diet imposed upon you my esteemed reader, so I shan’t insult your intelligence or patronage by apologising as there are so many factors that minimise the value of that apology.

All I'll say is that I'm going to try harder.

Back to Nemesis

Clearly this man was talking shit out of the webs between his toe-digits. It didn’t matter at all to me what he was saying, in spite of all the hogwash he was churning I decided to keep listening as his voice was one that lulled me to sleep and was soothing to me. After a round and round conversation that ended well into the night I just packed the towel in and decided to do a balanced assessment of the situation with myself.

Was I being had here: YES!

The only questions that remained were to what degree and to achieve what end. After those came the need to find out from myself if I was in a position to be continuing to be exposed to what was clearly bullshit and also for the achievement of what end. As the sun rose the next day I woke up with gratitude for the simple blessings of being alive, having my child by my side and actually knowing what I wanted to wear to work that day. I also had a sack full of resolve as to how to handle the elusive truth as regards the smooth, suave Nemesis

I had moved into a new house at some stage and was settled there quite well. My daughter was ok too in spite of the cultural adjustment of living with a family that has its own weird ways of doing things. To say it wasn’t always comfortable would be the understatement of the century. So consequently we ended up spending a lot of time at my friend’s house which was just next door to where I stayed. 

Having categorically refused to engage in any coitus, see Nemesis or speak with him on the phone for the better part of a week it was very clear to all involved that the thunder clouds had fully descended in paradise. I had gone next door for supper one day when he phoned repeatedly at around sunset insisting that he needed to see me and give me my favourite pasta meal that he had made for me. And to discuss the idea he had been mulling about us going away for the Christmas holidays. 

Not only had I not asked for this meal but I just did not want to be seen or get pushed into a corner where I will fail to say what I need to say because I have been disarmed by a kind gesture.

I’ve never been one for seeking permission from anyone as to how they feel I should conduct my life; I pretty much do what I want whenever it suits me to do just that. I do not owe anyone any explanations as to how or why things occur or what my ultimate game plan is. I gave my assent for him to come through for a few minutes but as I was a guest in someone’s house I would not entertain him for long.  So in my pyjama pants, loose T-shirt and funky bedroom slippers I waddled to the gate and got into his car.

He proffered a kiss which I graciously extended a cheek towards. That threw him off completely as he was accustomed to a full on mouth to mouth assault. I asked him to drive around a bit and got through the perfunctory questions about how his day at work was , how his week has been and so on. in no time at all we were back at the gate . As I pushed the door open with my pasta in hand he heaved a laborious breath and asked me what was going on with me and why I have been offish. I wasted no time in giving a shock response

“I am not a home wrecker. I want out!”

None of his explanations were making any sense whatsoever to me and I just put all the elements I had before me together and that was my conclusion- he is married, partnered, committed elsewhere or married.

He could wipe the look of total shock and despondence off his face because there was nothing that could be said right now. I had evidence…

(follow me on Twitter- @mazituwe)

Thursday, 7 August 2014

Cuddling Pillows

After pleading exhaustion, I asked to be taken home because I was as they say here in South Africa, ‘gatvol’. Gatvol of making nice and small talk that really got me nowhere. The longer I was in his company and hoping to get a straightforward explanation from him as to the fuckery I had to endure over the past fortnight was just an exercise in futility. I don’t particularly take well to being patronised and plain being lied to.

Any libidinous feelings deserted the tense air between us and all I wanted to do was go to collect my child from the babysitter and head for a nice bath, a calming bedtime story, prayer and Kung-Fu cuddles. I felt physically, mentally and emotionally spent. There was nothing left there for me to even tap into and hold up the pretence.

Having heralded the earliest ending of a lover’s reunion ever by driving the point home with some face splitting yawns and exaggerated stretches, I dragged my shell to the car. It was uncomfortable to say the very least but for the first time since the shouting began in my head there was silence...glorious, blissful silence. Whether this silence was as a result of shock or genuine apathy remained to be seen, both of us were very aware of this.

With the perfunctory kiss goodbye at the gate I made a bee-line to collect my baby and both she and the babysitter were clever enough not to probe why I was home so early. My child due to genuine respect and an innate knowledge of how to read her mama’s face and my friend due to fearing for her life coming into the line of fire when my plastered look of composure cracked. Nemesis sent a message to let me know that he was home safely and when I didn’t respond after ten minutes he decided to give me a call to check if I was alright. I said that I was fine. (He should’ve known right there and then, a woman is never ‘fine’- men please take note)

Calmly I told him to give me a few minutes so that I could get through the housekeeping and admin so that we could chat without anything rushing me. He asked how long I would need and I informed him that an hour would suffice. As it was still pretty early I knew he would not sleep until I got in touch with him. With my child planted firmly on my bosom and drooling contentedly I dove into the maelstrom that waited.

 Once the perfunctory niceties were dispensed with I asked him which part of any of what was happening right now made sense not to me but to him. He immediately pointed out that my behaviour that evening was nothing like what he had come to know me for. Having had that pointed out I asked if he had even the slightest inkling why it was thus, to which he expressed how he had expected the usual rousing welcome accompanied with pompoms, cancan dancing, cheerleaders and some hot sticky cuddling to cap off the night...but alas he was in his bed alone trying to mould my Nubian form out of some very reluctant goose-down white pillows and failing dismally.

I expressed my sincere disdain and commiseration at his circumstances and assured him that not all days are the same, again reiterating my exhaustion. He asked if he should let me alone so that I might sleep to which I responded that attempting to sleep when my heart and head were not settled would not solve anything, I knew for a fact the sun would come up the next morning with me still lying in prone staring at the ceiling and fighting myself in my own head. Finally he asked what was wrong -as if he didn’t know, but I saw his angle and he was not going to get a word out of me until he acknowledged wrong doing, gave a satisfactory explanation and made things right.

What came first was the apology.


“What are you apologising for?” I asked pleasantly.

“I have not been honest with you and I have let you draw conclusions off my silence that are altogether wrong,” he said.

“Indulge me,” I said as I sunk my back deeper into my pillows and rolled the now sleeping bunny from on top of me.

He asked if I was being sarcastic and as serenely as I had been throughout I responded that I wasn’t being catty at all and was dying to know what he had to say for himself. I was only going to be in a position to accept or reject any apology from him once I knew what was being apologised for. Nemesis was conducting himself as someone who had done no wrong and expected the excitement of his return to overshadow the obvious misgivings his whole departure and absence had caused. To add insult to injury he expected a hero’s welcome, receptive arms and a moist, throbbing receptacle for his turgid, throbbing member.

He admitted that his treatment of me had not been fair and that I deserved better from him given the place I held in his life. I exhaled loudly and let him continue, all the while fighting back a sudden well of tears that had begun collecting in my eyes. Listening to him talk I could sense his sincerity, either that or he really puts on a good show. He was in a position where he had trapped himself solidly by the path he had let his life take and there were things about it that he could no longer fight or try to change. He loves me, he never planned this. It has him off kilter because his life is so planned that he can right now by his calendar tell you exactly where he will be on the 7th of November as early as the January of the same year. If anything deviates from the course that has been predetermined it totally screws him up. There is no disambiguation between his personal and professional life, hasn’t been for over a decade.

Enter hot blooded female...

Surely this would be the time to take a chance on feelings that you declare to be real and a source of great peace and joy and factor them into your proverbial calendar. 

Well not if you are Nemesis!

Follow me on Twitter ~ @mazituwe

Tuesday, 5 August 2014

Family Issues and then some

I’ve learnt to not believe myself when I tell myself that I am beautiful and intelligent, resourceful or strong anymore because these things that I know about myself have been used against me by those whose voices I have lent my ears and heart to, repeatedly. The only thing that makes them different is their timing and placement. I can’t help but listen to the turbulent, rushing sounds of voices in my own head; the declarations of love especially -those just take on different accents and project mental images I find harrowing instead of them being pleasant memories that warm the darkest depths of a soul turned stone cold by other people’s self-serving adulation of me. 

Nemesis returned.

The territorial heart skipping beats at this news refused to come to the party. All I wanted to do was burst into tears. I was torn between wanting to see him and smothering him with kisses and feeling like beating him into a bloody unrecognisable mass of human pulp. In my heart of hearts I know the exact point when our relationship took a turn it never recovered from; it was that trip in September. I prayed for sanity and composure. I pep-talked myself into ignorance anytime I heard those demonic, raucous voices start clamouring for attention. I prayed to be able to look him in the eye without giving away how fragile and betrayed I felt. I prayed for the warrior in me to not use words that I know would cut and make one bleed to a slow painful death like a slug to the intestine.

Is there a feeling worse than feeling utterly stupid? Is there a cure for it?

I agreed to meet with him for dinner and did everything I could to bite hard on my own tongue until it was over. Astounded by my own resilience and belief of my own make-believe I found myself shaking myself aware to avoid relapsing into surveying him with the same eyes that had looked at him that night I found the hair in the toilet. Most of what he said about his trip was inconsequential to me. I just wasn’t interested. I have enquired before as to what sort of family he comes from, who his friends are, the exact nature of his job/career/aspirations and at all times the walls come up so rapidly they choke off conversation and make one feel like they are being subversively accused of prying and having no real way to articulate how they got to that point.

Let’s go over the facts for a bit here...yes Nemesis is of the Caucasian persuasion, by his divulging he is the oldest and only son out of a family of three, he has two sisters. I need to make a quick correction here, the wedding he had attended was not for his niece- it was his sister’s wedding, his 2nd sister and not particularly his favourite sister and apparently it is du jour to have preferences where your kinfolk are concerned. That’s why it smarted as much as it did. Granted we all have our favourites in terms of siblings and relatives but liking my family as much as I do, their pictures are firmly in photo albums where I whip them out when the homesickness gets me good. Having two brothers and two sisters as I do, you will not find now or at any point in my life pictures of them displayed all over my home and then to especially have one specific sibling to whom whole tributes exist above the others, even reaching as far as into my bedroom. Say for instance the desire to masturbate took me, would it not feel somewhat filthy to be fapping away at myself with an image of my sibling posing and gawping directly at the bed where I am. Much worse is banging someone’s head into the wall with your sibling “present”. This was the case in his home.

Let me put it another way for the sake of context, you have two sisters- Laura and Sandy. You like Sandy a lot more than you like Laura and you have two pictures throughout your home of Laura and by last count a total of thirteen pictures of Sandy including two in the bedroom. When you go to visit your family you stay with Sandy at her house/your house as you have done for the past 10-15 years you have been globetrotting. She regularly comes to visit you in deep dark Africa to the extent that she has a standing supply of toiletries and her make-up mirror that have a permanent place of habitation on your dressing table top even though she last visited you more than a year ago. Yeah yeah so maybe you and this particular sister have such a comfortable relationship that if she comes through, you move out of your own room and bathroom just so that she is comfortable in the covers you use and with the shower head set at the angle she likes which you obviously like too, to the extent that you move around constantly to homes with ample guest rooms-but these particular aspects about the layout of your home(s) moves with you. But hey every family has its own dynamic right?

I will point out though that almost half a year into this relationship my family was well aware that I was very happy, they knew that it had to do with my having met someone I considered special and we all know joy like that cannot be contained. Anyone who mattered to me knew exactly what time it was as far as the source of this added exultation within me. Although no real direction as to the course of my association with Nemesis was laid bare I was secure enough with my perception of him to not be secretive about who and what he was to me.

Sadly as deep as we were to that point in the dalliance we had it was morbidly apparent that I was to be kept in a certain position in so far as his friends, colleagues, strangers and especially his family were concerned. Don’t even go as far as social media and the dictates of that fickle arena. Not only was it implied and at times voiced succinctly; it was well and truly clear that despite any joy we brought and shared with one another I was to be kept solidly a secret, for reasons only he knew. In what at the time seemed very romantic and discreet there were places we would not go due to the nature of our interracial set up.

It was fast beginning to feel like I had been sucked into something I genuinely wanted to be in, with someone I genuinely had deep feelings for but who still had far too many hang-ups within himself to ever be able to fully address them within himself much less show and actually remedy the same. Stuff that had absolutely nothing to do with me but directly affected me more than I ever got comfortable with. Or it could be a reason as simple as he was not ready to go to any ‘next’ stage with me and had reservations about me and my intentions in being with him, therefore having familial opinion his in particular added to the fray would not suit whatever his purpose was. One doesn’t exactly want to be in a position where they push another person and would rather wait until they push themselves, hoping they push themselves…

Another revelation is that Nemesis has been married and divorced more times than either of us cares to delve into, him more than me. He has also never had children, but that is a subject for another day. Obviously before, during and after those events in his life there would be failed relationships, flings etc. Everybody has a past; the degrees of floweriness of our pasts are what differ. So justifiably he has trust issues and is a cynic of note. A misanthrope if you will go as far as to analyse it psychologically. He is by nature very critical of any and everything. If you see a perfect blue sky he will point out the clouds as if to minimise the impact of any moment’s beauty.

 I don’t  know what made him this way, neither do I care- all I would like is to at least be given the benefit of the doubt and the room to make my own mistakes within our relationship before I get  silently prejudged and punished on the merit of other people’s failings.

 Just as he point blank refused to pay for the hurts inflicted on me by my past and the choices I made in it when that subject reared its ugly head in our interactions. The thing with him is that it is not laid bare, not spoken as he keeps mum on those kinds of issues or glosses over them without them ever being addressed, much less put to rest. He tends to err on the side of the negative outcome and will shroud it by pronouncing it to be his brand of realism.

It took a lot of time for me to see,come to terms with and eventually accept how he expresses himself and also to reserve his right to not express himself as this is all part of what made him who he is. He may project an air of control and other worldly calm when just beneath the surface bubble demons I can never handle and that he won’t open up to because he knows he can’t handle them either. It was one of those things that I could either put him to task about or hammer on until it reduced both of us to both our pained empty shells or it was something about him I accepted no matter how begrudgingly and got a move on with him and paid it no further mind. He obviously had his reasons for conducting himself the way that he did and as unnatural as it felt to me he was under no obligation to further complicate his anguish by making it mine too by sharing it. I respect that.

And I will hug him through those things that I don’t understand, not because I am lacking in any way or compensating a void within me that I need him to fill but because maybe my being there will help him see himself as I see him. Maybe it will help him realise that loneliness is a companion he has chosen whose company he not only detests but continuously indulges as if her fiendish ways bring calm to his soul.

Love loves with no but…and love loves LOVE.

Follow me on Twitter ~ @mazituwe

Tuesday, 15 July 2014

The Cracks Begin to Show

Early the next day I made my way home feeling like a chewed up gummy bear. As he drove I stroked his thigh nearest to me and hummed a nondescript tune to myself. I had woken up to the best bit of morning wood known this side of the equator and felt ready to tackle the day with fervour. I was re energised!

During the course of that Sunday he would board a plane and be gone for at least two weeks. Nemesis has a tendency to be over loving and gushy whenever he has to go somewhere but something about his demeanour this time struck me as really odd. He seemed more than keen to go and I didn’t know whether I had become boring to him such that he wouldn’t miss me or if it was just resignation to the fact that from time to time separation would be a feature of our relationship. Whatever it was I just shrugged it off and went about my business. But I would remember this feeling in the days to come and cast doubt on my own nonchalance.

As we entered the third day since his departure and there was still no communication for him, I was damn near frantic. I tried calling all the numbers I had for him at least once, because more than twice to me indicates desperation and I will only very rarely call someone more than two times at a time. All the numbers I had for him I had tried at least once, with an email to boot and a skype message- I sat back and waited for the rain. The rain only availed itself on the next Friday morning in the form of a text message which informed me that he has been swamped and that he had travelled with a phone that had no credit and whose roaming he had forgotten to activate. Convenient, I’ll give him that –CON*fucking*VENIENT!!!!

HE was very well and was attending a wedding that afternoon, not his but a wedding none the less (his niece’s if you really want specifics).

 I asked myself why I was only hearing of this wedding story now, when he was already one week into a trip away. Honestly speaking as events like weddings go it’s disconcerting that something this huge was not even mentioned in passing. Did he think I would have begged him to take me with him or what, I just couldn’t rationalise this information. I only mustered a two word response and let myself simmer in the juices of so many questions that I knew would not get answered for at least one week. So why churn it in my head if I knew the outcome, you might ask…because I am a woman and it is my inherent constitutional right to know everything.

Anyhow, the weekend came and went without incident and also without communication. My angel and I went through our usual Sunday at KFC ritual of ice cream with a thick chocolate stick down the middle. Being lactose intolerant as I am this was dicing with death, but I just needed a distraction from the feeling of feeling numb. Monday was work and school as usual, hum drum run of the mill stuff.

 As for your Nemesis…persistent deafening silence.

With or without acknowledging it; the man was now trudging his heavy self on some very thin ice that covered deep, murky and icy waters beneath. As if he read my mind he suddenly became uber communicative, I presume working on the off-chance that this would soften me into responding because his communication was so sporadic. I let those messages sit and stare back at him for a good three days, a much shorter time than he ever did but sufficient to drive my point home. I also made sure he was able to see when I last logged off and such just so he knew for sure he was not being rewarded for these errant tendencies.

When I heard the phone ringing and noticed it flashing his number I stared it into silence, gave a satisfied shrug, threw it in a cupboard and went for a walk around the block. Upon my return the noisy bugger was still vibrating and whining so I did the right thing and picked her up. The high pitched frantic tone of his voice was absolute syrup to my ears. Sadly; that was the sum of the joy that phone-call produced. We had a very flippant, casual conversation which more or less ended before it had begun. I mumbled something about being out of sight and out of mind and he was pleading for me to just listen and be patient and he was coming back things have been hectic work was hell his family is demanding they want to know who he is speaking with and why,it’s not the right time to get into this yada yada hoody ha none of them own cell-phones (first world country notwithstanding) and he was sorry oh and Pluto isn’t a planet anymore and they just found a new rare jellyfish in Venezuela…hogwash…nyanyanyanyanyaaa!


The first walk had done nothing to calm me down so I went for another one, a very long one this time. I cussed and spat, punched the air and got myself drenched by a sudden summer shower which was very angering as everybody knows summer rain is the best for outdoorsy fornication. Like a beaten dog with its tail clenched firmly under its own belly I made the long walk back home and plunged into a hot soapy bath. I sat in there until the water froze me out, only then did the din in my head calm itself. I was angry.

There! I admit it.

How do we get to a place where you as my lover are away for such a long time and can’t, no won’t say more than a few words to me when it suits you? What about when I am suited to speaking with you and you barely muster more than a few cyber grunts or to be specific perennial silence. Of course if you ask me how I am and how I have been, I will tell you fine, you obviously have no time or desire to hear the gory details lest you would have availed yourself as and when they happened . Then it's like oh oh suddenly now I am the bad guy because I refuse to be softened by a phone ringing and a few throw away messages because I should be grateful you have finally decided to acknowledge my existence and dare-I-say it, lent me a modicum of validation. Who do you think you are?

Nemesis must have been able to tell that I was nonplussed because I only touched my cell phone the next morning when the alarm went off. One thing I have never said is how he has a tendency to behave super nice towards the build-up of him returning from his many forays to where ever the hell it is he goes. Very chatty, very polite- grovelling almost. The best parts of this whole Mr-Extra-Super-Nice scene are the final two hours before he boards a plane to return here, when he is alone in the waiting lounge of whichever airport he is coming from. I literally sit there imagining him using his phallus to type the corniest, crappiest anecdotes known to man. Instead of being a mega aphrodisiac I find it hilarious not only how gullible he perceives me to be, but how gullible I actually am.

 So believe me, it did not strike me as cute at all that in the midst of all that silence I had been faced with he had gone back to being bang on trend and suddenly giving a damn. I had been through this enough times by now to be truthful enough to myself how this was playing out and how it would continue to play out and it made my blood boil.

It should be making your blood boil too by now…