Before I ran to him, I whispered the Biblical Song of Solomon verse to myself, saying: ‘Show me your face, let me hear your voice; for your voice is sweet, and your face is lovely.’
I ran to him with arms wide open. We embraced, and kissed; it was spontaneous, and it felt natural. Our eyes locked on each other, and neither of us moved, nor uttered a word.
We kissed again, and again. With each kiss, the time between one kiss and the next narrowed. I knew that he was the one. I was feeling intoxicated in his embrace.
Finally, he spoke: “Hello S’ma!”
I listened not to him, but to the beauty of his voice. He had such a wonderful, deep voice that everything he said sounded like a melody in my ears. His use of isiZulu transported me back to my primary school days, when uMam’ Mafuleka taught us to love and respect our language.
We hugged and kissed again before I ushered him into my simple home.
He was a talker. We spent hours talking about life, his background, the dark art of being a member of the SANDF, fighting against the enemies of the State, and protecting our borders. “To serve and protect” – he kept reciting the oath of affirmation made when he joined the army.
I realised hours later that this recitation meant, ‘I can’t tell you more. I took an oath, ‘to serve and protect and not to divulge state secrets’.
I learned that he loved farming, and most importantly, he had a sizeable herd of cattle in his home town, Eshowe. I also got to understand him as a homely guy with skills for repairing and maintaining the house, and gardening, which he told me was his mother’s lifelong passion.
I was a little taken aback when he told me about his child, a daughter of eight years. He explained, however, that the Baby Mama disappeared when she was born. According to him, he had to raise the little girl on his own, with the help of his mother.
Well, I also told him the truth: that I had an abortion at the age of 17 years while doing my matric. That I now ran an Early Childhood Development Centre (ECD) as both the founder and principal. I added nonchalantly that I was a qualified teacher, who read widely. He was so impressed, he gave me a full mouth kiss!
I let him know that one day I would love to have a child … when ready, and with the right man. He laughed with his signature laughter – somehow haunting.
I was not bold enough to tell him that I wanted to be married to him, as in yesterday!
We spent the first day smitten with each other, enjoying easy flowing conversation, beer (Castle Lager) in hand for him, and Brutal Fruit cider for me. Yes, I know I shouldn’t glamorise alcohol, but I believe that a couple that drinks together, stays together. Aha! Maybe it actually says ‘a couple that prays together stays together’. Never mind. Despite enjoying the amber liquids together, we found time and space to connect.
He is a nice guy, I told myself. A solid, trustworthy guy.
I had started cooking early, so by the time he arrived, I had already prepared our simple meal of inkukhu, vegetables and ujeqe. At leisure, we shared the meal, first of many.
Night fell. We spent our first night together. We cavorted in the bedroom. Oh! What a night to remember. It is this moment in any relationship that brings clarity of mind. The fusion of bodies and minds. The exchange of bodily fluids. It is the ultimate moment of truth.
I watched him in the throes of passion. He was lost in me, yet he was all with me. He moaned and groaned. It was a spectacle.
Tell us: What do you think of S’ma spending the night with a guy she hardly knows? Is it okay because of ‘love at first sight’?