No Rules

You sit, impatient. Your heartbeats like the sound of the hooves of a horse ridden by the most gallant of warriors. You begin to tap your foot. Maybe that will quell the butterflies that flutter at the pit of your stomach when you think of him. You’re wondering why he hasn’t called. You’re wondering why you cannot call him, will not call him when all you need now is not just to hear his voice or that laughter that makes you question your sanity- how can another’s laughter make you so happy?- but to listen to the thoughts birthed from a mind you cannot help but marvel at and fall in love with.

Who made the rules? Who says calling first makes you desperate? Even though what you feel is almost desperation. What’s wrong with a little desperation? Just a little. After all, all is fair in love and war. War. Your head is warring with your heart, saying ‘what happened to rational thoughts? Logic? Keep it together’. Your heart is saying ‘I’m soaring! I can’t believe it! I’m moving a bit too fast, but I love it!’ Your head is losing both the battle and the war.

You check your phone. 23:49. He hasn’t called all day. You met him only two months ago. You fell for his smile- no man should have a smile that beautiful-, his kind eyes, his voice the right degree of warmth, like the palm that ensconced yours in a greeting equally firm and tender. He called you in the evening, said all the cliché things boys said when they didn’t know what to say “Have you had dinner? What did you eat?” He asked “So what’s up?” four times in one conversation. He was shy in the most adorable way. But after five days of long midnight discussions while you swatted mosquitoes in the dark as you lay in bed, he was open like the evening primrose, his confidence almost overzealous, his emotional courage prodigious. He shared so much with you that you felt like your peephole into his soul had become a window. In your mind, you had found a kindred spirit, a mirror to your feelings.

But then, you told Adasa. “Babe, that’s not the way to love men o. They’re all pigs. Don’t answer him every time he calls. Don’t reply too quickly to his messages. Do shakara now ahn”. So, you did shakara even though you were terrified you’d lose him. You made him wait. Didn’t reply messages until they reached the five hour wait period mark. You’d say “I was busy”. You’d miss calls on purpose even when you were dying to talk. But he didn’t leave. He stayed. He called, texted, asked if he’d done something. You’d always say no, you were just busy. You said the word busy until you hated the word, the taste of it, the way it felt heavier every time you said it. Still, he stayed. He still calls many times a day, still texts.

You’ve reached the end of your wire. You won’t waste another day playing these silly games. You’ll love while you can because if you feel pain after it ends, it will not be from anger at time wasted sitting on the fence, but from all the love wasted. You’ll see that ‘everyone’s’ story doesn’t have to be yours. You’ll see that love is not wasted on people who refuse to give up on you. You’ll see that love isn’t a game with ‘rules’ that apply to all and sundry and that sometimes we need to take risks. You’ll see that the right person makes everything worth it and the wrong person just helps you grow.

So you call and hope that it isn’t too late already. And when you hear that voice and hear your own sigh of relief, you’ll know.