Kikiumana

Hello friends.

I have been absent and I feel like I owe you an explanation.

See, a week ago, I attended a wedding. A cousin of mine was getting married to the love of his life. Or rather, they were solemnizing their vows before God in one of His many earthly mansions. This happened to be a Catholic mansion and I was excited because I had never attended a Catholic wedding before.

Turns out, it’s just mass on a Saturday. I have attended many a mass (I went to a Catholic school- it was compulsory). I do not miss the standing – sitting – standing – sitting thing that mass has so perfected. The priest was funny though. He said a lot of things but the thing I remember the most, because I texted Eve as he was saying it, is that when a couple is angry with each other, that is the best time to make love and procreate.

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I know, right?!

Eve responded and asked me, “Are you being serious right now?”

I texted back, “That’s what he said.”

Then she said, “That’s not how it works.”

I replied, “The man of God has spoken.”

Then she sent me the eye roll emoji.

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Later the MC summarized it in Swahili. “Saa zile kimeumana ndio time poa ya kuumana.” And we all laughed and laughed and laughed.

Angry sex isn’t all that. Sure, it’s good in the moment. Rough and heavy. You feel like you’re in one of those videos Christians are not supposed to watch. Like you’re Khal Drogo and Khaleesi and the world is your khalasar. But then once you’re done and your Khaleesi is now looking at you, not with those doe eyes you love, but with something else. Something accusatory.

She’ll say something like, “So?”

And you’ll be there trying to stay awake like, “So, what?”

“Utafanya vile nimekuambia?”

“Why would I do that?” You say, eyes half-closed.

“Because that’s what you’re supposed to do!” She’ll not yell but whisper loudly.

Then you’re there thinking, What is wrong with this woman? “I thought we settled this.”

“This is far from settled.” Then she’ll yank the covers and face the other side of the room, away from you. She doesn’t even want her butt to touch you and might suspend herself on the corner of the mattress. And you’ll be there staring at the ceiling like What did I do? And that time sex is off the table because: a) come on, you’ve just had sex and your refractory period is not that impressive, and b) Do you think your wife is thinking about sex right then? No. No, she is not.

So the priest was wrong. At least, for me and my house, that advice will not fly. I don’t know about you.

Anyway, the wedding ceremony was nice.

The reception was awesome. The food was great, I got to hang out with my family, the MC was cool and involving. And we had cake. Lots of cake. It pays to know the groom (or bride) and the servers of the cake.

Thing is, I got a cold from there. And I think I know how. It’s gross, brace yourselves.

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At the buffet, we ran out of spoons. So sister dearest wrangled up some from another table and we washed them as best as we could. But now, I think one of those spoons if not all of them had someone seriously ill at the end of it before. So on Monday as I was preparing to go to work and be productive and write you guys a blog post, I coughed. Not just any cough, a super cough. This cough had a cape and tights and an S on its chest. This cough had red underwear on the outside of its pants. It vibrated my chest yaani, my Jesus! I sounded like a dying generator. I thought my entire trachea would melt away and I’ll be there struggling to breathe and Eve freaking out wondering if I was going to make it or not.

But like Gloria Gaynor, I will survive.

I took some drugs, they are working (I think) and I will be well soon.

Problem is though, in my quest not to give Eve this infection, I have been withholding affection. You know, hugs and kisses and that makes her livid. That’s her primary love language, physical touch, and now my wife is mad at me for saving her from this Super cough. And the priest’s advice won’t work here because: a) bodily fluids, and b) Do you think she’s in the mood for sex?

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No. No, she is not.

Anyway, I’m still recovering. There’s an entire flask at the office for my hot water. My pee has never been this clean.

 

 

5 Comments

  1. Ha ha ha enyewe kikiumamana. I like the look and feel of the website. Plus the subscription prompt at the bottom. Good work, keep writing.

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