Wednesday, 23 November 2016

I Hope He Buys You Flowers

I arrived at work as normal the next day with a decidedly lighter step, sleep deprived but it felt as though a huge barrier had been removed from my path. I’m sure ladies will know what I’m talking about you know that feeling of solid security in knowing that you can tell your partner your worries and he will do everything in his power to show you that your fears are unfounded. That he will go the extra mile to communicate with you and actively invest in your peace of mind when he cannot physically be with you.
That as you hurt he hurts too and will work double-time to ensure that if he can’t fix your problems himself he will at least be there as a rock and comfort for you ways that allow you to be best equipped to handle your own battles. That as soon as it blows over we will make a toast with sugar free cups of coffee that we’ll pretend are the sweetest champagne. That he will celebrate my victories louder than I will.

During the time that I had him on sabbatical after my outburst I had been making some advancements at work and was due to receive feedback on a project I had been working on for several weeks. I was anxious and on edge as this also meant that if all went well I’d increase my income by over 30% and effectively secured my position as indispensable and versatile within the company I was working. During our late night talk I’d hinted at this development and one would have sworn he was getting promoted.

I got the confirmation email at around 10am and the deal was solidly in the bag, 30% had been reviewed upwards to 50% and life looked like it wanted me to live it properly. Everything was on the up. I hadn’t had a chance to give Mr I’m-Checking-On-You-via-Skype-and-Whatsapp-every-chance-I-get an update of developments when my phone suddenly rang.
“Gate, NOW!”
So I cautiously stood up from my desk and headed out the door to the gate. I opened it after I’d seen a hand frantically waving out of the window of a car that resembled Nemesis’ car...but wait! Isn’t this guy supposed to be at work? So I crossed the road and as I approached a huge bouquet of the loveliest yellow, orange and red ombre roses filled the space his face should have been in. I was in tears by the time that I finally got to his side, my heels suddenly couldn’t carry me to him fast enough. He sat there laughing at me and delighted that he had been able to pull off something I never expected so seamlessly. He revved his engine and made to leave after mumbling something about making sure I mix the water with the contents of sachet on the side to keep them fresh
Oh what the hell, before he left the man could at least get a kiss for this right?

I set about placing the flowers in the vase punctuated by the mocking wolf whistles of the boys in the office. I didn’t care! By this point in my day I was walking on clouds. I waited impatiently for Nemesis to indicate that he was back at his desk and as soon as his notification pinged I just typed- PROMOTION SIGNED & SEALED. I swear I heard his scream of glee from his office 10kms away, there’s no way my spinning head could have made that up.

He called me immediately demanding that a celebratory dinner was in order. Who am I to refuse such an obvious course of action? I made sure I ended off the dragging hours of the day making arrangements for my baby’s sitter as well as deciding what I was going to wear right down to the dizzying fragrance that I knew drove my passion to heights that his could only surrender helplessly to. This was just part of the sweet torture I had planned for him later.

He picked me up promptly at 7pm after asking me where I wanted to go so that he could make our booking. Since I knew exactly what my agenda was I went for an intimate, dimly lit romantic venue that served a menu that read like a sensuous tongue trailing over nubile limbs. An intense, erotic tease.

In my red satin dress with my breast sumptuously displayed and framed by the simplest of accessories, I paused to gloss up my plump red lips and secure a pin in my up do. I looked a vision as I glanced at myself in the mirror as I headed down the stairs with my impossibly high heels in my hands. As I got out the door I hurriedly put them on, balanced the hips and seductively sauntered towards the gate. Nemesis stood before me holding an even bigger bouquet of roses as red as my theme of the day and a huge grin on his face.

This guy!

I graciously accepted the gift, leant into him and hugged him tightly to make sure he got to breathe in a fair amount of my fragrance while I pressed myself into him with a leg bent into the air as I giggled that he is just too much some times. He opened the door for me and I got in and sat with my bundle of crimson bliss. The drive down to the restaurant was peppered with light banter and a lot of good laughs. It felt almost like we’d never been apart for a second. Leaving my prize in the car I was ushered into the entrance and seated by a haughty looking waitress that didn’t seem too pleased to be serving a person of colour. As Nemesis sat down he planted a huge kiss on my lips and slightly raised his eyes at Missy. In one fell swoop acknowledging and dismissing her pettiness.

We sat facing each other with our legs alternating between knees touching to easy resting between each other to full on plastered on each other. Judging by the way he pointedly slurped on his oysters I knew he had received the subliminal messages I had been sending loud and clear. The soft drum of a hedonistic rendition of Ipanema did nothing to quell how sultry the setting already was. Main courses came, bubbly flowed and we toasted everything from my success to how cute his little left toe was.
Time seemed to stand still and run away from us all at once. Before we knew it, we were one of only 2 couples remaining, Missy had kind of warmed up to me and was at great pains to collect as many shells as she could for me to go take home to my crustacean obsessed child. Maybe she wasn’t so bad after all. Or the wine was working and I didn’t care anymore...

We headed in the direction of home, there a junction where he would grant me the small courtesy of asking if we were headed to his place or mine and as expected he uttered the words. I summarily said mine
I saw his entire frame shrink and shrivel, as he steered the car my home’s direction. Mine meant we were still at war. Mine meant that he was starting to rebuild trust that he had lost and convince me to open up to him again, from scratch. Mine meant that he could only keep dreaming of plunging his flesh into mine. Mine meant that as pretty as the roses at the office and the ones I was now going to have in my bedroom had been, as delicious as the food was, as much as I appreciated the gestures he extended to me. His smokescreens of blinding charm were not going to absolve him of his responsibility to allay my concerns and to prove to me that I’m in competition with no one.