The Hunting Game

Where do you lie, the positive or the negative side?

Every day on social media you see a different picture of someone you know getting married, having the second kid, celebrating anniversaries of being together etc and all you look forward to is the new release of a Marvel movie that promises to be the best one yet (Doctor Strange I see you!). Your parents keep asking when you shall bring a person home for them to ‘see’. “You know you are getting older,” they say. “Purity, your high school classmate got married just the other day, you didn’t find anyone worthwhile at that wedding ceremony?” your mother adds. You look at them with bored eyes and shake your head. Anxiety kicks in.

In your mind, you remember how when you arrived at the said wedding reception, a flowery dress and a straw sun hat in tow, you quickly scanned the place to see any hottie you could target by the end of the day. There were a few potentials you spotted. You smiled to yourself knowing today is the day you will succeed in snapping up one. You go to the table where your former campus mates are seated and enjoy the nostalgic stories you all share. Ah, those carefree years. Young and dumb years.

Afterward, a guy approaches you. He was one of your marks. You thank the cosmic forces that you didn’t have to work as hard to get one to talk to you much less look your way. You strike up a light conversation which includes the sunny weather. As you two continue talking, you can’t help but notice that he talks too much about himself. Apart from asking about where you live and work, there is nothing much he asks regarding you beneath face value. No one is perfect, just give him a chance, you tell yourself. Besides, most men you know are like that. At the after-party, both of you behave as if you have known each other for the longest time. As you dance the night away, you think to yourself you could possibly have found the one. Later on, you agree to go to his place because it’s too late to go back to your parents’ house. You have not moved out yet. Your future husband is the one who will take you out of that house. This is one of the many principles you have. Whether or not you stick to them is another story.

The next morning you wake up with a cotton-dry mouth and a pounding in your head. The room is unfamiliar. You slowly sit up. You look around trying to get your bearings. The fogginess fades away and you remember in crystal clarity what happened. It’s like there is a part of your mind that relishes reliving your drunken ordeals. You have wished many times to get a black out but nope, this mind will reboot and restore all memories. You try to look for your clothes but it’s like a whirlwind swept the room. You pick them up one by one, hoping no one will enter the room and come face to face with your naked bum. You spot the bathroom and tiptoe in there and have quick shower and gargle your mouth with Listerine. Burns like a b***h but it’s better than wishing away carcass breath. You dress up and leave the room. You walk towards the sound of a TV and you find him seated on a set of pristine black leather seats clicking away at his laptop. He looks up and forces a smile. “Good morning beautiful,” he says. You squeak out a reply while marveling at his man-pad. He asks if you want anything to eat or drink but you know yourself – it’s a wonder you never threw up the night before so there is no need to tempt fate. A glass of cold juice or soda will suffice. He points to the kitchen and tells you to get whatever you need. As you get your drink, you think you could get used to this house. You start thinking of how you will make closet space for your clothes, add a bookshelf on one corner of the living room, re-arrange the furniture and toss out that hideous blood red shaggy carpet which you know if you shone a UV light on it, it would light up like the Milky Way.

You go back to the living room and sit on one of the empty seats. You quietly sip your juice as you wait for him to start talking. This is because you do not know what to say. Chips funga husema nini? (what do one night stands talk about?) After what seems like the longest time, he looks up from his machine and says “I had a prior meeting planned for today. I could drop you off at your place then, later on, we can plan when to meet again.” Do you have a choice really? He drops you off and promises to call in the evening. Five long days later, you are still waiting. You could have called yourself but the number always seems busy. Your texts get delivered but the reply is always “I’ll call you in the evening.” Mind you the day before, you had texted at night but the template message still came. Another one bites the dust.