The Red Dress…

It has been two months and two days since the unexpected happened. A day like any other I had thought it would be; a day filled with tedious routine and chores that could kill a horse: wash the dog, weed the garden, cook and prepare for Sunday brunch when my mother-in-law (who after all this time had still not accepted me) was to come over, take the parrots to the vet, attend client meets, do our taxes and at the same time be a wife and a mother (not necessarily in that order)

Everything was very ‘rosy’ in my household at that time and the atmosphere was very tense. My marriage was going through a rough time and my two teenagers were being, well, teenagers. I mean, it was a full blown 21st century modern family. My daughter Sacha was mad at me for grounding her, confiscating her phone and taking away her car privileges. This was after I found her alone with a guy in her room at midnight and later discovered that she had snuck out to go see the Black Eyed Peas after we had explicitly forbidden it. So I had to deal with the silent daggers that accompanied every ‘Die, bitch die’ glance and every mutinous stare she gave as she pranced around the house.

My ‘big’ boy Alex was also dealing with a few things; namely a girl named Beth, for whom he soiled his boxers every night as he fantasized on what he deemed impossible. He was having a hard time making sense of all this and had, as every passive aggressive teenager would, offloaded it to his mama, begging me to find a way to remove this thorn in his flesh (though I hadn’t the slightest clue what to do). He had refused to talk to his dad about it, though he was better suited to address it because listening was not his dad’s super power.

I could not raise it up with my husband either because he was very distant with me at that time. Tomb silence, short grunts and snorts, sarcastic remarks and blank stares had been the characteristic of our marriage the previous few months. Things had started changing ever since he got that new job. I tried to be understanding that it takes some time to adjust to anew environment; that and having a female boss can be quite a lot to deal with for a man’s ego.

It started with the long working nights and the several trips out of town. Initially, I was okay with it, but then I started to miss him; my soul missed him and my body missed to strong embrace of his. Each time he would come home, he would be more distant than when he left. I tried to raise it up but it was shut down as quickly as it came up. He assured me that I was over thinking things and that all was well. He was just having some stresses at work and dealing with some ‘manly’ stuff but nothing that he could not handle. Truth is, though, it was not okay. Soon, the roses stopped coming, the dates ceased and the romance dried up. I was spent and emotionally deprived but I hung in there, for him, for us.

Then, I was thrown a curve ball on that fateful day. After running all my errands, I ran home expecting to find my boo waiting for me (He was to come home early that day). Who knows, maybe if he saw how exhausted I was he would offer to make dinner and give me a footsy rub [I knew I badly needed one]

I got home to find the front door unlocked, which was odd because my husband was more paranoid of espionage than that blonde chick from Homeland. I shouted his name but got no response. I dropped the shopping and rushed upstairs, with my heart in my hands, praying that my fears would be disproved. I got into our room and breathed out in relief when I did not see any blood. I looked around and noticed an envelope and a package with a rose on it. “I wonder who these are for.” (After not having received one in so long, it was hard to believe they could be for me. That ship had sailed). My curiosity got the better of me and I opened the envelope. In it was inscribe a short but possibly the sweetest message I had gotten in a while. “Thank you for being strong for me. I hope you like it.” With bated breath and a possible adrenaline overdose I opened the package as carefully as my impatience could allow me, hoping not to destroy my gift in the process.

What I found inside sucked all the air out of my lungs. There, in front of me was another rose flower, the pearl necklace that I had bitched about for as long as I could remember and a bottle of red wine. There was another note which said, “For my little red flower. Put it on, I have sent a limo to bring you to our secret meadow. I hope I got your size right. Look up.” I looked up at my closet door and saw the perfect dress: a Nessa May couture red dress, strapless of course. Looking at it just made me fall in love with Greg all over again. “He is such a doll”

I got dressed hurriedly, careful enough not to get a crease on my dress. It was, of course, couture. I made myself up, taking my time to ensure that every line and every shade was just right. I even got out my Poison Ivy perfume…tonight was the night to slay him once again. I got out the shoes that elevated my hinds just the way he liked it. By the time I was coming down the stairs and getting into the limo, I looked so good, I felt bad.

As the limo snaked its way to our destination, I could not help but shed a tear, not just In the sudden change in my husband but at just how adorbs I looked in that dress. My perfect little red dress that had spelt a change in trajectory, not just in my marriage but in my life.

Don’t wait up kids…it’s gonna be a long night…♠

It’s A Beautiful Lie…

It’s a beautiful lie, it’s a perfect denial. A deception that has attained maturity. It has gone through all the phases and made all the stops. It has been analyzed, revised, tried and tested. It has been carefully cooked and matured, like smooth whiskey or fine wine. It has it all, all that constitutes that which is believable. You go through it and can’t help but be swayed. You are halfway through it and have already thrown your weight behind it. It looks like exactly what the masses need. It is as though God answered this prayer personally; He didn’t send an angel, He gave this His personal attention.

It is nothing more than a statement but feels like a sacred creed; as though a heavenly being manifested to you during your hour of consecration and handed you a scroll, sealed by fire and blood, with this inscription on it. It is nothing short of heavenly. This must be how prophets feel when they have received from God. It is exhilarating yet terrifying. The word burns in your gut, like fire shut up in your bones, probing your tongue and intimidating your cords; it wants out. Everyone must hear this. Someone tell the pope, there is a new messenger in town.

With it, you believe that your heart cannot be broken and your expectations will not be cut short. It is a statement of commitment and a promise of truth that cannot be repented of. It is so real to you that you are convinced that anyone who knows what is good for them should subscribe to it. It will change their lives and spice up their existence. They will cease to just merely be, but will do so with a bang.

If only. If only someone had stopped me. If only someone had spoken sense into me; back when I could listen. For now the deception has completed its work, and I am completely ensnared. I cannot be saved now. Why is it that deception is so believable yet the truth so implausible? For I have lost all, I have forsaken all that is redeemable.

Someone run to my brethren, tell them of this impending doom, of this snake in the grass, this wolf in sheep’s clothing lest they end up like me. This beautiful lie, this perfect denial; it is an undoing, a curse worse than that of the Pandora’s Box. Warn them, implore them not to believe it, not to entertain it, or even listen to it. For hearkening to it is but a tragedy awaiting to happen.♠

A Post About Me…

I have a quest, an adventure: more like a desire;

A wanting;

To be somebody, to create an insurmountable effect;

To make a statement;

To escape the clutches of normalcy; the curse of a mundane, arbitrary existence;

To carve out a niche; to create an identity.


I have a longing;

To trudge the road that leads to destiny;

To mingle with greatness;

And dine with success.


I am tired of this hunger;

Of the scratching and gnawing;

Of the cry that echoes deep within;

A deep seated fire that will not be quenched;

That accepts nothing short of extraordinary;

A desperation that no pep talk can quell.


I hear the voice of destiny;

I am enticed by the seduction of purpose;

By the wine that flows from her lips;

And the honey that stems from her breast;

I dream of her by day;

And desire to sleep in her bosom by night;


I am coming;

I am on my way;

Oh great enchantress;

Your divination has slain me;

And your spell has ensnared my heart;

Stand in awe and watch in marvel;

As I slay the dragon.


I get ecstatic sometimes at the mere thought of thinking;
I love the feel of creativity flashing in my cerebral cortex like disco lights on a Havana dance floor;
You can almost feel it as it translates and transforms itself into appropriate modes of expression: verbal or non;

I like how busy my mind gets;
It is flooded with activity; with more traffic than Times Square on New Year’s Eve;
The highway of my mind is full;
The words fly by as do radio waves; charging my brain and exciting my soul;
As they take turns in challenging my mind to a duel;
I swallow each up like prescription pills, allowing it to have its effect on me;
Unabated and unperturbed;
I ponder on what they mean and explore each one’s applicability;
It feels like a mighty rush; a high unattainable by any other substance;
I experience joy laced with sadness, fear intoxicated with security and sanity on the brink of anarchy.

I love how at times the words jump right up at you; how they arrest your mind and deny you peace until you have given them expression;
They linger close to the tongue and on the tips of the fingers; like a jealous lover too proud to admit his insecurity.

I love how I can talk about myself without having to; or reveal my deepest secrets with the highest discretion;
I am making peace and preaching war; praying for rain while professing sunshine. I get to be sarcastic with love and mean from a sincere heart and clear conscience.bdd66f093c9a85c8a320bbc0cea2d3cc

It is the greatest feeling of freedom.

I would advise you to try it; albeit with a warning:
Be careful not to get lost in it, for you may never want to come back.
Such is my Utopia…