The first X-perience: Divine Intervention

Dating should be a sport, an extreme sport. The hazards that come with it should actually be insurable – insurance companies where are you? Get your actuaries on this ASAP.

*Insert Martin Luther voice*

“I have a dream, where little boys and little girls will live in a world where they are not judged by the number of people they have slept with, the looks of their spouse and they will live in a world where they are free – free to have the girl pay for dinner, free to have a side chick, and free just free.”

It starts…

There’s a difference between ‘babe, we need to talk’ and ‘we need to talk’. The latter is quite curt, and sparks worry. Normally it signifies an irreconcilable difference and a definite break-up. The former, well, it is the exact opposite. There is a wide range of issues that that one blanket statement could cover. From moving in, from indecent drunk behavior (like dancing on a table in front of her parents)but it is always reconcilable.

Now I must admit we hadn’t been having the smoothest of relationships but the resilience on this girl was a quality I most admired. No matter how many times her calls went unanswered and her texts un-replied she would always keep going – kinda like the energizer bunny.

“Babe, we need to talk”

The message read.

I wasn’t shocked; after all I had seen it coming. As a matter of fact, I was waiting for it. Little did I know this was going to be my first and most crucial lesson on the prefix ‘babe’ in a ‘we need to talk’ text. Seconds later, as if on cue the screen flashes and her name is plastered across. This must have been a new record.

“hello” she said

“Hi, wassup”

“Babe, we need to talk”

“Aren’t we talking now?”

“You know what I mean, lets meet.”

“Sure, where?”

“Our spot, 8pm”

You’ve never really had a girlfriend until the two of you had a spot to call yours. It could be behind an old truck in the estate or where you first met. But you had to have a spot. If you don’t go back to all your exes, date them again and find a spot.

So there I was all happy and shit, finally this burden… oops… meant burden… oops my burden… oops my bad… meant relationship was coming to an end.

Eight like a million I was there (yaani saa mbili ka mili) – too dry?

I was late, well not really. She got their early, must have been the nerves. She was tugging at her sweatshirt and biting her lips. Her eyes were flirting with the dark ground.

“Hi” I started



“You came”

Is she serious?!

“Yes, I came”

A long weird hug and an evaded kiss later

“I have something to say”

Yes! Here it is! Hold it in boy, hold it in!


“God told me you are the one I am to marry”

“WTF!!!” I shouted

“Please hear me out… babe”

I walked away, real fast. Never mind the trees zooming past me and the dazing lights of cars blinding me as they entered the estate I broke into a run.

Run nigga Run
Run nigga Run

Here I thought a relationship was ending, instead it was receiving divine intervention. In what world? Mine? No fucking way! I’m not Joseph she’s not Mary. Bible stories are only fun when they remain stories.

Yes, I believe in God. No, I don’t believe God spoke to her. Why? Well, because we aren’t married yet!


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