THE OTHER WOMAN

“Bro, Letting that side chick go stung…” he mumbles, swirling his poison in a glass albeit lazily.
“Not the heartbreak kind of sting. More of the emptiness kind of sting.” Pause. “She brought so much life into my rather calm and introverted life that the main did not.”

“Are you insinuating that the main is boring?” I ask absent minded, obviously tired of listening to a grown man rant over such a subject.
“No. No… She is full of life too. Just not the type of life I subscribe to. We have totally different personalities and that’s the beauty of our relationship.” Sips whiskey.
“Then why go for another woman?” I probe, my interest piqued then reach out for the flask and refill. I need something a little stronger than coffee if I am to survive this conversation.

“Are you normally this daft or is there extra effort applied today?” he shoots back, angrily looking at me with his glass’ rim lingering ever so close to his eyes.
“Does it matter really? Answer me.” I shoot back with as much disgust as I can garner. It irks him.
“The other woman –the side chick– bridges the difference between my woman and I. Get it now?”
“No.” I respond just to piss him off.

Where’s all this side chick shebang coming from?

Roy and I have known each other since high school. We weren’t close back then but life has a way of making paths cross, and when it did we discovered we shared similar interests. Matter of fact we met while within out lines of work. A networking expert and a web developer walk into a bar… quite literally. We met at a bar we were setting up LAN and web for the bar respectively.

He has a woman. Latifa, a gorgeous lady who doesn’t talk much. I’d delve into details about her, but a bro shall never verbally disseminate a bro’s woman. It’s the code. But he loves her to bits.
And a side chick too. Gabriella, a pot head who’s a year older than him and loves to party.
The two women are complete opposites in all aspects save for a few. They share wit and beauty. Roy clearly has a base model. Hah.

Why two?

Simple! Two are better than one. Fall-back plan. Ego boost. Scratch that.
This brother is a schmuck. Birds of a feather… Whichever way you interpret that, you are absolutely right.
He argues men are born polygamous but that’s none of my business. And so when he called me asking if he’d pop by the man cave, I knew he was having girl problems. Had it been work we’d have met at the local. He wanted to rant. And he came bearing liquor and nyama choma. How could I say no to that?

What really happened?

“She (Gabriella) called me yesterday saying she misses me. We haven’t met since she left mine that day Lat nearly ambushed me. Truth is, I miss her too.” He downs a double then continues. “You remember that day?” He asks chuckling.
“Heck I do. Close shave G. Close shave.”

“But Lat’s territorial instincts have been doing the most lately and she’s keeping proper tabs on me. She even has keys to the house bro. I can’t risk her walking in on us. Too much drama.”
“And does Gab know?” I ask, nearly feeling his pain. The buzz in my head getting louder.
“I had to. She deserves to know man. I keep it a hundred with her…”
I chuckle cutting him short. “You keep it 100 with your side chick?” It’s hilarious.
“Haha. I do.” He knows when I am about to drag him, and is not about to take any of that.
“What was her reaction?”
“She was distraught. Breathing into the phone heavily.” Sigh. “But a man’s gotta do what a man’s got to do.” He responds.

I look at him, not knowing what to say. I am almost convinced he’s sad. Nothing another round of whiskey can’t fix though.
“She’s tired of being the other woman and wanted out. I wasn’t going to hold her back so I let her go.” He adds.
“Did it hurt?” I ask curiously.
“Hurt? No. Disappointed, most definitely. She’s a great woman, man. I really dug her”
“Yikes! TMI bro!” We burst out laughing.

Pour me a drink

We both empty our glasses, slump back on the couch and let silence reign for a second. Such discussions aren’t fun to have.
“So, who’s next?” I ask just to lighten the mood. A little nosy even.
“Shots?” He shouts, evading my question. Brother knows me too much.
“Fool! Okay. Double, neat?”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Comes the response as we pour ourselves generous portions of the Irish demon in a bottle.

“Bro, you got hoes?” he asks out of the blues, giving me a dose of my own medicine.
“We need to get you home Roy. You are getting drunk”
Story for another day!