He Is The Man Of My Dreams

It is 6.15 am. A little bit freezing for a scorching January. It is at the bus stop, on my way to work. Most Matatus are a bit empty and charging fair fare. With my latest love for skirts, it’s no different this particular morning. Am in a knee length skirt and as always, long sleeved blouse. That’s typically the most comfy attire any day. The only difference is that am rocking flat shoes (I discourage them for a corporate look) and a back pack.

arm

6.20 am, a 35 seater stops by and I board. There are a few empty chairs; the closest to the door is my target. Luckily it’s a sweet smelling young man on the adjacent seat. As I move closer, I take a quick but wholesome look at him. What follows is a struggled breath as I try to make myself comfortable. Have I ever said that I think all men should be banned from smiling sweetly? Yes, they should. It’s too unfortunate this particular one doesn’t notice that this is unacceptable in my world. He flashes me the most perfect teeth as I try to make myself comfortable due to his broad shoulders. Being a master of convenient slumping, it’s not long before am in a very strategic position , a little bit secured by his upper arm .This is the consequence of having been single for so long . All I am thinking is, why can’t he wrap this extra arm around me and hold me until I reach my destination? I know my thoughts are tripping, right?

I pay my fare and close my eyes. I have this habit of always closing my eyes while traveling; asleep or not.

He notices and is the bold type . Before I hit a minute, he asks if I had enough sleep.

Darn it! Am startled. In the process somehow my hand bag slips from my laps. He helps me get it. His arm shifting to what I think is a more comfortable position . I try to hold a less than a minute conversation and drift back to my fantasy world . It’s too early to have all that familiar pit in the stomach!

Doris focus! Doris please focus! I keep on silently telling myself . Too bad I don’t know how to continually motivate myself silently and I think I end up murmuring loud enough to re-catch his attention. We try talking, or at least I try . His slim tie is just the right knot and length. His nails are clean and short. His arms are just nicely chiseled to masculinity . He smells a mixture of after shave and a quality cologne . There is a hint of garlic in his breadth . He speaks calculatedly and maintains eye contact . His English is impeccable. He is a gentleman. Doesn’t interrupt .

This *pick and drop * by the matatu is making the journey longer than I expected . I am running out of breadth . It’s a week I have been in a foul mood and very emotional . The arms right beside me could be perfect for a very long hug and best to fall asleep in. I am thinking, he is talking and I am trying to act normal. He has to get something in his pocket. I can feel his hand. Through my fabric and his. Those big hands of his grab something from his pocket . It’s only a handkerchief . Apparently he is recuperating from a cold, he says, still flashing this smile that doesn’t all do justice to my thin blouse . Its chilly in the morning, there is this masculine sweetness, I am emotionally vulnerable and a padded bra wasn’t an option . I am so embarrassed that I have to pull my bag to cover up this evidence of the effect this him and other conditions concoctions is causing this innocent soul .

I remember I have a scarf. I pull it out and cover myself, still trying to hold a decent conversation. It is now roughly 5 minutes before I alight, I think the same for him too. He starts a proper introduction

“Sorry for not introducing myself before I started yapping “, reverberates his quite deep decibels “I am Charles , and you are ?”

I smile .

“Doris. Pleasure meeting you Charles “ .

He stretches his hand . I shake it . It’s a firm handshake . I am blushing . I can’t maintain eye contact .

He stretches the other free hand to my face, so gently he…….

“ Mwisho ! Mwisho! Mwisho! “, the conductor shots banging matatu .

I am awakened from the sweetest day dream I have had in ages . I smile. Balancing myself on my bearable 2 inch pumps. It’s a good way to start the day, for I have met the man of my dreams , literally

 

 

 

 

Happy New Year New Habit

Belated happy new year !
I am so excited about this year. The New Year sermons have been superb. At my church, our theme this year is GREAT HARVEST from Mathew 9:37. The main thing being learning and working as laborers. He who does not work should not eat so why not work???
Notably, I have grown a shopping fetish. I probably have shopped more in the last 11 days than I did the whole of the last quarter of 2014. Reason yet to be established. Just a few pointers I have noticed in my shopping habits
1. Ngombe milking jelly was the best discovery in Dec 2014. My arms used to peel a lot, even when covered. I could not establish the cause. I used to take the right amount of water and used Vaseline religiously. But since I tried ngombe, I have rocked sleeveless tops two consecutive weekends and my arms are super alright!!! So you can guess that I have more than two bottles!
2. Heels – finally got some 4 inch!!!
3. Blue- All the fabric related items I bought this year are navy blue or at least have some blue. Totally love the color.
4. Length – Its either short ( above the knee) or long( past the ankles)
5. Thrift – There is a certain thrill that comes with thrifting . Best buy , a stretcher wrap black dress I got at 200
6. Accessories – I have started to love small pieces … still a sucker of silver. Cream beads are also good neutrals
7. Must buy – New lipstick color. Hoping to try Nouba Millebaci 7. Lipstick stuck on a wine glass is disgusting and rubbing it off then reapply is H.E.C.T.I.C!!!

I am not a fashion blogger, I totally hate clothes ( I would prefer us naked like it used to be before Adam & Eve sinned ), So this thrill about shopping, is inexplicable!
Psst : I am so loving the epl 2015 even after losing embarrassingly to Tottenham for the opening game ! And it better end with the EPL title for Chelsea.