OUT OF THE MIND

 

                                                        OUT OF THE MIND

“where should I touch you?” she asked. “just anywhere you feel like, I am all yours” I replied. She moved even closer, our noses barely touching, at this rate we could hear and feel each other’s breathing. “I mean your G spot, like where you get aroused when touched or where you like to be touched” she whispered

It was the first time my mind was being tested on this question, and there and then I realized, I honestly have no idea where I like to be touched. I withdrew from the embrace. She feigned normalcy but I could tell she was irritated. I had just ruined yet another nirvana-romance moment.

Don’t get me wrong, I am not a blank page. She is my witness. Evident in her own words, “how comes you know exactly where and when to touch me yet you don’t know where  and when to be touched?”

It has been months, weeks, hours and minutes of me musing on these questions. I have experimented on a few of the thoughts. I have to admit, some experiments were very uncomfortable. They were like practicing or performing or rather exercising witchcraft🤣 . Yet still, I am not confident with my findings.

In my wondering I have been kidnapped by two questions:..

One….is it that I do not love myself enough? Because how can one claim to love what they do not know? How comes I know more of her body than mine? Is this an example of me not minding my own business? No, I don’t think. Her body, her pleasure is my business. But why prioritize hers over mine? While contemplating on this questions I was slapped by revelations of them in my life. A number of times I have offered my seat to someone in matatu just because they look worn out yet I am tired too. I have willingly let people cut queue yet I was also in a hurry. I have acquired financial loans just to lend a brother who seemed to be in distress. I have performed on stages I never liked just because it was a friend’s event and he or she needed it to be “colorful”. Sadly, in most of such cases, I ended up regretting, or rather displeased. Regret is too strong a word.

Two…is it a question of not being a master at everything? That you can only know something about everything and vice versa but never everything about everything? Hence one needing assistance In some aspect of things and life at large. I for example know I struggle with titling of my pieces. Be it an article, a story or even a poem. Most of them I rely on peer review.  A number of my works have been titled or their titles have been inspired by someone else, including this one you are reading. I have a number of pieces that do exist without a title. I recently went to a certain audition; I had of course prepped myself on the poem I was to audition with but in my preparation it never crossed my mind that the judges would want to know it’s title. So I was dumbfound when the question was shot. It took a minute or so of the judges waiting for the answer that I replied with a lame answer. Fortunately, they loved the poem, I was selected.

Whereas I am still exploring the answers to these questions, I have come to a conclusion that Some things are just like a tango. I takes two. On the flipside, while learning to tango, one has to fall in love with minding their own business. To walk the talk by knowing oneself to the core. Mastering your own moves, your physique and fitness for the dance. It is not a one-day event I believe. It is going to take me probably forever because each day arises with its own realizations. For example, I was over twenty years old when I learnt that I have a great phobia for lightning and thunder. I shrink whenever the lightning flickers. I hold my breath and close my eyes until the thunder has blown my ears and confirmed that I am still safe. How it never sank in me earlier yet I have grown up in a region that is frequented with lots of rain is telling.

In knowing oneself includes knowing where the line between being selfless and being selfish balances at. That to what fill can I dine with altruism? That a little discomfort to oneself for someone else’s comfort is valid, because that is just being human. However, it should not go beyond to the point of hurting oneself.