I not a romantic.
I wrote earlier that I am embarrassed by emotions and that is the gospel truth. Just the other day, I talked to my ex and she told me that she failed to connect with me on an emotional level. That was her take on why we broke up. I am still not sure and never bothered to ponder over it because what’s done is done.
But I am not sure what it is people mean when they say connect on an emotional level. I can be emotional,I guess, but I hide it when I am because I am embarrassed by it. I just watched August Rush and I was moved. That kid playing the guitar like that was classic. But what made me teary eyed was the young black girl whose voice towards the end of the movie soared as she accompanied the the classical musicians in August’s Rhapsody.That is an emotional connection,isn’t it.
But I guess what my ex meant was that I get that emotional with her. But I do not choose when to get emotional and when not to,it just happens. And when it does, I sneak somewhere and let that moment of weakness pass. I may wipe the teary eyes to erase the evidence too. And I am not just embarrassed by the mushy stuff alone; I also get embarrassed when I lose my cool. I don’t get angry for flimsy reasons and when I do get angry, I don’t easily lose it.
I have for this reason been asked why I am not angrier? I do get angry, but moderately because extremes of anger are emotionally draining and leave one the worse off.
But today has been to say the least interesting. A Sudanese friend of mine who wanted to buy a net book that I had a while back came into the cyber and started whispering to my friend victor. We call him Garang and he had an agenda today. I later realized that he had agreed with Viktor that the latter was to write for him a love letter. I guess Garang’s writing was not up to par or something of the sort. So he dictated as Viktor wrote “my love this,” “I love you like that,” “I will see you when” and so on the letter read.
After Victor was done, Garang asked him to spruce it up a bit to which Viktor headed for the fonts section and pimped up the text with some fancy font I can’t spell. He printed out the copy and Garang read through it and was pleased. This was surely going to win him this girl. I smiled thinking that I would not be caught dead pouring out such confessions, on paper. I could say them if cornered, but never on paper. That is just too corny for me.
As I came to find out, it was not just me who was behaving like this, people who had interacted with me looked at me funny whenever they saw me approaching emotion-ville. They were effectively telling me that I did not belong which is true.There ere things that people knew without me telling them that I would not do. There were places I would never venture to. They was only a particular class of ladies I would date. And I would go about all these in a calm non-assertive way that told people I did these because I wanted to.
I remember a few years back when I was still in campus when this lady came by my hostel. She found me busy washing my clothes; I have never seen her smile the way she did that day. “Oh my God! Marvin! you wash your own clothes?” I found it bizarre and ridiculous that she would react the way she did. But apparently she got the impression that I would be too busy, or whatever to wash my own clothes. She expected either my girlfriend or the washing ladies to be the ones hunkered down doing the washing for me.
But what they did not know is that I come from a family of five kids, all boys. The only fair-lady in our house is our mom for whom we have the utmost respect. From a young age, we started cooking, cleaning after ourselves, and in every way became self sufficient. There was never any job that was too good for us or “for women.” In fact, my mum only cooked when she felt like it; the rest of us kids cooked most of the time, washed up after ourselves, and handled every other thing that needed handling.
On the emotional stuff, this was a house of boys. We did every thing that boys did. My mum has seen all kind of injuries that we picked over the years. I fell down a hill, my big bro sat on a piece of bottle that did quite some damage and also broke his hand while attempting a somersault in school, my small brothers tore something,broke something, grazed something, were cut, stung, hit and sustained all other manner of injuries in the process of being boys. And this was our house. If they came to crying about a scraped knee, I would tell them that I fell down the hill so that to me was nothing. My bro would tell them he broke his hand and had be told by others that his hand was broken; he did not even notice so all these were petty stuff. TAKE IT LIKE A MAN was the message conveyed. And we did. There was no crying or acting all mushy because we would ridicule each other.
I remember the whole family bursting out in laughter when one of the twins made a statement about us not understanding his “needs”. He joined us when he caught on to the absurdity of the statement.
Except for one of the twins who thinks that he is Casanova, the rest of us do not go around confessing our love with roses in our hands. We do not go around looking for love quotes to regurgitate to the fairer sex.
But romanticism is not tied to love and relationships alone; it is extended to the general world where people usually have this romanticized of the world or their leaders. Because I will not say words I do not mean to my fiancee means that I will never swear my allegiance to anything I do not believe in or agree with in principle. Over the years, I have been trying to master saying what I mean and meaning what I say. It is cliche, I know. But it is also priceless in practice.
So at the end of the day, I told my ex when we were having this conversation that I will not cry on cue, I will not get down on one knee unless the knee feels like bending, I will not use cliche love sound-bytes just for the sake of it, and I will always make it known where it is that you lie with me. The same goes for business transactions, contractual obligations, or any other form of relationship that I engage in with other parties. A reply to a thread a while back asked me to always say what I mean in as many or as little words as possible so that I won’t have to claim that I was misrepresented.
So to those pouring out your hearts, I hope that how you were raised by your parents made it easy to wear your heart on your sleeves and that you are no just out to get some. For those of you are not embarrassed by emotions, continue doing your thing because people need the kind of love that is uninhibited and which cannot flow freely over here.
I had a point when I started writing this a while back. I am no longer sure what that point is but I hope I have made it. Because I am tired and this has been a long day. I am in no position to think and you may have to disregard the this post from the point you felt I was losing my drift.
I am traveling tomorrow to Nairobi and it will mark the beginning of a new month with a lot in store. I will get back to you on my progress because I intend to write a series of posts on entrepreneurship ventures in Kenya and my experience as a budding entrepreneur.
Wish me luck and all the best to you to in your endeavours this month.