He was having his lunch. The gentle rays of the sun warmed his body which had been frozen by the office aircon. For 45 mins a day, he could sit outside and enjoy nature’s gift of sunlight. The rest of the day was spent behind a cubicle reminding people to pay their accounts. The call centre, to him, was a chamber that smoked one’s dreams. He arrived at work at 6 am and left at 6 pm. He was only allowed these 45 minutes that he milked dry to enjoy the warm embrace of Mother Nature. But Mother Nature, on this day, had more to give him.
He was sitting on the beach near his workplace. The bench overlooked the street that crossed the prisons masked as office buildings. People, on automatic, went in and went out of these colossal buildings. He did not judge them because, like them, he had bills to pay. He had to buy clothes. He had to buy food to feed himself and his 3-year-old daughter. He needed the money that these prisons paid in exchange for his time. Inasmuch as he knew that true freedom will not come from these prisons, he had been beaten by life so much that he decided to go into passive mode for a while. That is until he got the energy and strength to actively charter his path to financial freedom once more.
While he sat there, finishing off the sandwich that his mother made for him, one of Earth’s greatest and most beautiful creations appeared. The glare of the sun bounced on the man-made fountain on the opposite side of the road. And within the shower of sunlight and tiny drops, she emerged.
He was immediately struck motionless. He was hit by a lightning bolt as the Italians would say. Her brown skin absorbed the sun’s golden rays. She seemed to work an office job because she was wearing heels which could have been 5 or 6 inches. The black pencil shirt hugged her swirling curves. The skirt cut right above her knees. Her white blouse danced freely as she walked towards her destination. Perhaps she was going back to work. Perhaps she was going to a meeting. Wherever she was going, he was glad that he was there to witness God’s perfect creation: a woman.
She disappeared as quickly as she appeared. He was still mesmerized by the beauty that graced his presence, but he knew that he had to go back to work. As he got up, a thought triggered in his nervous system. Why didn’t he approach her? At that moment in time, he felt moved by her beauty. She looked like a Mark Rothko painting. Something about her could not be explained with words but something about her drew the observer to her. Her beauty was captivating like the sunset over the ocean on a warm Spring day. Her beauty was like the calm waters of a clear lake. Her beauty was celestial like bright stars under a clear night sky. However, for some reason, he could not bring himself to tell her that. He could not bring himself to tell her that she is the personification of beauty.
Why? Why couldn’t he do it? Why couldn’t he at that moment in time approach her? What are the odds that he will see her again? In the heart of the city, what are the chances that she will appear again at the same time? At that same place? What caused him to freeze and not move? All he could do was look. He felt a rush of defeating weaknesses arrest his muscles. He felt himself shrink into a womb of self-pity that gave birth to insecurities about his masculinity as a heterosexual man.
Walking back to his office, a man passed him. An extremely handsome man. He was tall, probably a good 6 feet. He had a fade and his face looked clearer than a baby’s bum. His clothing clung to him and he could tell that the man definitely went to the gym on a consistent basis. As the man rushed beside him, his nose was charmed with the most exquisite scent from a human he had ever smelt. The scent lured him to turn around and follow this man. Obviously, he knew that would be creepy to the nth degree. And so, he just stood and watched where the man was going. Moments later, the extremely handsome man pulled out his car keys and lo behold, he hoped in a gold BMW M4.
He kept watching the man until the roar of the M4 announced his departure. He felt a sharp pain stab directly into his heart and lungs. He knew that he wasn’t on that level. He walked to work with average Mr Price shoes. He still wore Instinct by David Beckham he buys with his mother’s Truworths account. How could he compete with such an extremely handsome man? If he and the M4 driving man were in a room, and that goddess in human form entered the room, she would not notice him. His basic self would blend into the furniture.
He, however, remembered a situation that gave him some hope. A hope that sometimes, the eyes of a goddess do not see what humans see. He was in his first year when he first saw a goddess in human form. His friends had organised a little get-together to close off the semester. His friends were not entirely the coolest friends. They were a bunch of Marvel fact throwing, every quote from Starwars knowing bunch of friends. Their get-together was a night with a laptop, an external hard drive with bootlegged movies and a 9-piece bucket from KFC that they used a majority of their grocery money to buy. They were not expecting much of a turnover. However, as fate would have it, one of the friends invited his study group to the get-together. Among the members of the study group that arrived that night, was the bearer of the first lady to strike him with a lightning bolt.
She was a Coloured girl. And she carried with her the beatitudes of a Coloured girl. She had everyone in that room dumbstruck. These nerds had never seen such beauty in their midst. These nerds could quote every mythological fact about Venus, Athena or Apollo. These nerds could quote every historical fact about Cleopatra, Queen Nandi or Nerefeti. These nerds could quote all there is about Nicki Minaj, Rihanna or Meagan Good. But never have they seen such immaculate beauty. Never had they ever experienced the presence of such perfection.
His friends tried starting conversions with the goddess in human form. He froze and reserved himself in a corner to hide himself. He felt extremely out of her league. The feeling was so tangible that it seeped through his fingers and glued the cup of Sprite to his hand. He remained in the darkness of his own inhibitions and obscurities. A beam of light pierced through the darkness when he heard her speak.
“Whose Sherlock Holmes is this?” the goddess asked.
It was his Sherlock Holmes. He had a crazy collection of Sherlock Holmes books. He forgot that he lent one to his friend who was the host. His friend, the host, pointed directly at him and said that it belonged to him. Perhaps it was envy or jealousy but the host and the other nerds made fun of him. Like little boys not knowing how to deal with feelings of infatuation, they tried to shine by reflecting their manhood off his dimmed confidence. But the goddess paid his friends no mind. She walked over to him. He felt his heart beat faster. He felt his grip on his cup of Sprite tighten. She entered his sphere of self-imposed inferiority. She asked him about Irene in A Scandal in Bohemia. With that single question, for the rest of the night, seconds whisked away as he spent it with a goddess who had come from the heavens above.
With this thought in his mind, he felt a bit more confident in his masculinity. He felt more confident that he might not be in an M4. He might not have a cut physique or be tall, dark and handsome. However, he has spent a moment with a goddess before. He might not remember her name. He might not remember what happened with his Sherlock Holmes book. Maybe, like a treasure, she keeps it as a testimony. A testimony that not all princes are knights on a white horse. A testimony that sometimes it is the kiss from a frog that can fully appreciate the beauty that she is.
The thought gave him a calmness. The thought restored his confidence. He felt comfortable to be himself again. Back at his cubicle, he thanked the Lord for blessing Earth with life’s most beautiful creation: a woman.
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