Mojo. The end. Sort of.

So clearly I had taken the ball into my own court, whatever the hell that meant. I mulled over the issue for a few days, the number mocking me and daring me to be different. I eventually sent a nonchalant ‘want to meet for a drink today?’ not really knowing what to expect. Truth be told, I still held a grudge, but something told me that writing off a person because of my issues would be up there with the stupidest things I would ever do. I wore a nice dress to the drink, because that’s what I do when I’m nervous (and most other times as well). But then the not so slight problem of the unrelenting Nairobi sun and nervous energy meant I arrived at the rendezvous fanning myself, shining a little, swearing a lot, and desperate for a drink. I could see it in my head: MISTAKE. The moment I sat down however, order was restored. We were talking, flirting in fact, but in a friendly ‘this means little’ way, and we fell back into easy company. It had been 2 years and apparently, a lot had happened since.

Mundane conversation was dispatched with rapidly, and we began talking about the good stuff: life, and why he wouldn’t let a bet go for a pretty girl (Me people! Me). He laughed off all the little jibes that I threw his way (one assumes he felt I was justified), and was gracious in letting me ‘have one’. I felt a familiar, unwanted emotion stirring in my head, so I did the only thing I could and asked ‘so how’s the girlfriend?’ [Quick sidebar: When a girl asks ‘how is the girlfriend’ rather than ‘is there a girlfriend’, it is a thinly veiled attempt at not showing her true hand. All she really wants to know, is there a girlfriend?? Huh? Is there? Tell me now! I need to know!! It’s sort of similar to that moment as a child when you realise your friend’s toy is far superior to yours and you really want it, but instead you say ‘It’s not even that cool’. This was EXACTLY one of those moments]

I hadn’t given any thought as to how I would react to his answer, given I hadn't anticipated the question.  So when he said ‘she’s fine’, I winced. Well, I call it a wince but it was more of a wheeze that made it seem as though I had impaled my foot on a toothpick soaked in chilli. It was loud, and it sounded painful. Unfortunately, I couldn’t wallow in my wheeze any longer as I realised his girlfriend was someone I sort of knew, and I was turning blue. I tried to hide my disappointment, coughing and claiming that I was now choking (on the drink I had been gulping to camouflage my wheeze. In the words of Mr. Knightley, it was badly done). The next emotion that assaulted my now battered and bruised heart was even stranger than I thought was possible... I was happy. I was actually happy for him, no jealousy, and no dismissal. I wanted to hear more, and be even happier for him. This internal conflict was too much for little young me to bear, and made itself manifest as a grunt, followed by a snort, and then a fit of giggles.

And in that messy, protracted story, my friendship with Mojo was born. I, along with all of you dear readers (thanks for the faith in me by the way :-D), could have sworn that the moment I fell out of the car would really have ended things. Apparently though, I’m like a phoenix, I rise to live another day. Or so I’d like to think. It did make me appreciate just how fantastically different all my friendships are, and that the most valuable start with the least amount of bullshit (i.e. me making a total fool of myself). More importantly, this brilliant, somewhat emotionally crippled person that I am, would have never been had I succumbed to the silly passions of my 19 year old self. FACT.