The Morning After

 Friday night finds you lazying on the couch in sweatpants, scratching your unmentionables pretending to watch a movie when what you are really doing is checking your phone for that 'Uko?' text from your girls. 8 p.m and nothing is forthcoming. You freshen up, throw on some heels and you are out of the door. If the party does not come to you, you will go find it. The first local you hit seems favorable enough. You check out the ambiance before finally deciding on a spot at the far end of the counter where you get a full view of the rest of the place. Just when the wine starts kicking in and the bartender is starting to look like husband material you spot him at the other end of the counter smiling at you. He is looking your way and you wonder for how long he has been doing that. Without delay, you smile back at him and tuck a loose braid behind your ear to keep him looking. Thank heavens you have on that red dress that hugs just the right places and those heels that usually lift what they should. It has been a while since you had the attention of a man, you cannot allow this to go sideways. Game on. It might be the alcohol feeding your confidence as you strut over to his side of the counter but you really do not care. As things stand you have nothing to lose. When you get there his cologne hits you and stirs a wave of sin within you. Damn, you like a man that smells good. He gently plants a kiss on the back of your hand and you have to settle yourself into the seat next to him to avoid your knees wobbling. The bartender fills your wine glass as if on cue and you cross your legs as you tactically confirm the absence of a wedding band on his ring finger. He is fair game, no wife will be calling you next week making threats about her man. God knows you have had your fair share of that. It is about time you locked your own man down. But it has been so hard, that locking down process. Kwani what do these men want. The sound of his deep voice saying something knocks you out of your reverie and you remember you are on a mission at the moment, reflections have to be shelved for later. Slowly seeping your wine you immerse yourself into small talk and the conversation flows effortlessly. He is so easy to talk to and it also helps that he is easy on the eyes. The night wears on, you are enjoying yourself, you have danced and gyrated enough on him to make a lasting impression. Shakira has nothing on you tonight. All systems go and you are ready to take this somewhere private. The two of you are well marinated from all that alcohol and are now behaving like a newlywed couple. You are laughing at his jokes, he is holding you by the waist, you are giving him those "Aki wewe" eyes and so on and so forth. It is not by surprise when you consent to that, "Si we go somewhere private and continue this night?" suggestion. The cab pulls up at a posh neighborhood and his apartment does not disappoint. It matches his persona, very neat and meticulous. It is not long before things get steamy. He has you in his bed and you are both clawing at your clothing that is in the way hungrily. That cologne of his still has you in a haze and his fingers making their way down your spine spark flames inside you. You are eager to participate but he is clearly the one in control. You do not really mind him taking the dominant role. You let him do his thing and do his thing he does, exceptionally well it is mind-blowing for you. You cuddle and fall asleep in each other's arms and you sleep smiling. Have you found your Adam? Is it his rib you were made out of? Hehe. Tomorrow you will certainly shut those friends of yours up. There have been talking too much, calling you the snake for not having found your Adam. Saturday morning comes around, the alcohol is wearing off and in its wake is a fiery hangover. He is not in bed but there is a note on the side of the bed under an inviting glass of juice. "You looked so peaceful, I did not want to wake you up. Off to the gym. I will call you later." You get dressed reluctantly cussing in your head why you had too much to drink. The pounding headache does not allow you to interpret him leaving you in bed as a good or bad sign. That will have to be deciphered later when you are calm and sober. You locate your phone and call an Uber. A walk of shame is not in the books for you today as that dress is certain to attract some judgemental looks from 'holier than thou folks'. At your place, you take a shower, get some food in you, get into bed, and pray that that morning-after pill works. You even have some time to bargain with God that you will never sin again before you fall completely asleep.