To all the ladies interested in me

Dear ladies,

I am not who you think I am. I am a good person, or at least I try to be, but I am not a great guy. When you spend a lot of time around me, it’s very likely that you will either hate me, or really like me. When you spend so much time around somebody, it’s easy to fall into the temptation of thinking you like them, even think you love them, but do you?

In the words of Shakespeare, ‘the whole world’s a stage, men merely players, and one man in his life plays many parts.’ I as well, have many masks, donning the one that suits the occasion. When it counts I am able to put on my best behavior. I’ll be able to command the decorum if need be, even exude the right kind of mien, but will you use a single conversation to judge me, will you summarize my life based on just one or two conversations. Are you sure you know me, or do you just have but an idea of who I am? What do you want to believe about me? do you think I can be that good, that perfect, consistently? Everyday? You don’t see me as I am, but as I appear to be.

At first, love appears to be something that unconsciously comes to us. It feels as though its something we are compelled to do. But thereafter love is a choice that we have to make everyday. Infatuation is a beautiful thing, but there comes a time when it all wanes away, and the energy dies of, after that love becomes a deliberate choice we have to make. What if I will get to meet a lady who is more beautiful than my wife, will it be a reason to love my wife less? In youthful passion, when our blood runs hot,

as Polonius would say concerning Hamlet in the famous tragedy, how prodigious the tongue lends vows. We may entertain fancies and fantasies, we may hold on to chimeras when there is no price to pay, because love seems a beautiful thing when it costs us nothing, but at the slightest inconvenience reality intrudes. We realize we never loved, and if we did, we only loved ourselves, or just loved the idea of being in love.

I am pretending, and when we finally get married, I don’t think I could keep the pretense for that long. I cannot keep wearing the mask. At some point I will get irascible, I will shout at you when in frustration, I will not want to see you or anyone else for a week. Is this the life you will want? May be you want it before you have it. Because you like me you want to believe I am a good person, but I am putting it down candidly when I say that I am not. If anything, I can only hurt you, I can only break your heart. All that may even sound like a beautiful thing abstractly, until I actually do that to you. Akipenda chongo huita kengeza.

Randolph Bourne in his essay The Handicapped, addresses the relationships men have with ladies. ‘Why does society assume that every relationship a man has with a woman has to be romantic?’ he asks. ‘How degrading!’ I can almost hear him sigh. When a handicapped man makes friends with a lady, it is mostly true friendship because no one is trying to be good; they are just being themselves. The handicapped man has no need to perform, to have the lady think highly of him; the lady on her part doesn’t try to impress a handicapped man. That way falsehood is stripped away, and there can only be truth, even if in part. That is the nature of true love, it isn't trying to gain anything; it isn’t thinking about itself, and what’s in it for it. You dread thinking that by loving me you are in love with yourself, but it’s the truth. You don’t love me, neither do I you; I don’t want to waste my time trying to make myself believe I do. If you haven’t been able to make yourself happy all this while, why do you think I will now be able to make you happy?

The one thing older people have that we lack is perspective. We see a part, and try to make the whole fit that part. Older people see the whole, and then fit the parts into the whole. They have perspective. They have experienced life, and life has taught them not to just see what they want to see. You may enjoy twenty minutes of my time, but that doesn’t mean you will enjoy thirty years of marriage with me.

I am growing to know myself, many of you are as well. Are you sure you know what you want already. Why marry a man, and then after a year realize you actually do not love them. Everything seems to be telling you that you won’t be happy, but you still think how beautiful it would be to spend your life with this person. The universe whispers until it shouts. Why do you want me to lie to you, I don’t know myself well enough by now to be sure whether I love you or I am just enjoying the fantasy of being in love with you.

When we are paying attention to something, the thing usually exalts itself to the point of seeming so important. Becoming important simply by virtue of us paying attention to it. But is it something that we will always be looking at. There’s a joke I once heard, ‘sometimes its hunger that makes me like a lady, but when I am full, I come back to my senses.’ ( it sounds better is Swahili) Could it be that you are just hungry? Could it be that you are just bored, jaded, tired and love has so exalted itself to that place of importance.

May be you know hate me, “just how insensitive can someone be!’ you are probably saying. May be you have always hated me; may be you just don’t care. I broke your heart. Could it be because you chose to entertain an idea of me? Suddenly I stopped doing what you thought I should have been doing; I step out of a notion you had of me. Was it my mistake? Why’d you believe that anyone could be that good, that I could be that good. Why did you debase yourself so much as to think a lady such as yourself, beautiful and gracious, that an idiot like me would ever deserve you. When there are many other better people than myself, why did you still choose me? You know you deserved better, and it was your mistake you looked no other way. I can only hope you learnt your lesson.

Why can’t we just be friends? Why do we have to take it farther? Why do we have to make ourselves slaves to such caprices that will only break our hearts? Is it fair that I demand a relationship when we are so better as friends? What happiness would dating add to our companionship that we do not yet enjoy as friends? When you are my friend I won’t have to pretend, we won’t have to pretend. We will still be friend even if we won’t talk for a month. Yes, we won’t have to talk everyday. You wont feel terrible about me not always focusing on you; you will understand that you are not my whole world, that I have other things to do as well.

May be I will get better, but it’s likely that I will get worse. It’s good that you have so much hope, but why believe in me so much when I don’t believe in myself. If I don’t love you, truly love you, is it a likely thing that the intenseness of your love will make me fall in love with you? I don’t want to love you because I have pity on you, I don’t want to love you because it is expedient. I want to love you because it is a choice I’m making; because I can never be happy with anyone else as long as you walk on this planet. Retine vim istam, falsa enim dicam, si coges

I don’t love you. If I say I do, know its another one of my lies.

Restrain your violence, for I will lie if you force me.