#ugblogweek Life Love

Marie Jeanette.

“Men will always be Men” whomever came up with that! Well it’s a no-brainer, Men can never be Women just like the other way round. *Caitlyn Jenner stop giggling like a little pubescent girl.

See, temptation is mostly caused by desire but sometimes a warm body lying next to you, cuddling with you like mother goose covering her gosling. It springs up the farcical feelings in silly places, crazy thoughts, so hard to shrug off. The mutations in the briefs, will unravel the latent inhibitions, inhibitions you boiled the ocean to conceal, only to succumb to a whisper,”Do Me,”sometimes more.

Girls desire, they want, they craze, fantasize, they adore just like everyone does. Some express it freely, others don’t, some lead you on, others cringe with the failure to do so. They know what they want, how they want it and when they do; will either go for it and get it, or choose to recoil, wait for the shell to be cracked.

You happen to love cuddling, nothing thrills as much as the feel of soft silk rubbing on the hairs of your non existent abs, the lovely boobs prodding your chest, quite titillating. The warmth generated by an extra body. Oh,the small genuine talk just before sleep sets in and that good night kiss that leaves you biting your lower lip for the next minute or so. You love spooning. You really adore spooning. Who doesn’t love spooning anyway? 

Many a man love it too,  confess most will, complain a few have to. Complain about the hair spread straight in their face,the extra weight they have to carry as their chests becomes yet another otiose warm pillow. Complain about the breathing pace they try to synchronize with, in vain. The nightmares to contend with, grumble about the snoring for some, and that fresh morning breath for the other. But no man ever says, “no honey please no cuddling tonight.”

And then the dilemma;

The woman in bed with you isn’t your girlfriend, neither is she your fiance or wife. She’s a long lost friend, she’s a stranded workmate, a girl you just met at the bar who lost her purse and you happen to be her knight that night. She is that girl you just found at 1am, at the apartment stairs crying her sorrow out. Sorrow you have nothing to do with.

  1. Will you hit that?
  2. Consent, will you remember that?
  3. What really is consent anyway?
  4. Are you taking advantage of the situation?
  5. Are you slow?
  6. Will your actions make you less of a gentleman?
  7. Why do men want sex like all the time?

That night, it happens to be the long lost lady you picked up from a party earlier in the night. In this case, you’ve been here before, but you haven’t been here in a long time. You don’t know her story anymore. Well you know a little, a little she shares when she choose to. On days she decides to type more than two word sentences, she opens up. That’s all you know.  Is she married, engaged, has she since become someone else’s treasure?  You don’t care to find out.

Now you’re in bed. Every turn, touch from her feet, arm mistakenly placed on your chest is felt in your half-sleep. It’s confusing. Is she leading you on, isn’t she? Girls don’t love slow men. In fact they loathe such men.  Are you being slow? Aren’t you? You don’t know what to think or how not to think. You are drowning in indecision with neither boat nor shore in sight.

One heart tells you to fall asleep not to touch the girl in her stupor, be the man you want to be. ‘You can’t touch the girl, not when she’s high! You shouldn’t, you wouldn’t, would you? The other heart unremittingly goads and points to the non existent lead on signs.‘You can’t waste an opportunity.’ When will you see her again anyway. ‘You can’t close your fist just when manna is falling from the sky mahn.’ Every sound of breath is greeted with anticipation of the better things to come.

You don’t have a hard-on or something but the amatory feeling comes from deep with in. It’s not in the heart, it’s not in the chest. It’s just inside of you. *That heavy lump that sets up colony and conquers that territory from the throat to the tummy with the metropolis in the chest. You are confused, in your sleep. Your usually revelled sleep becomes a puzzle, a trap. You push to the extreme side of the bed but somehow every turn she makes leaves you both entwined.

A friend of mine always jokes that village men just use the knee to signal intent. Knee to knee, call it a ‘knee peck’ if you want, that ends as the knee between the thighs. That signals intent, that’s how they do it. No fore this, fore that. You do it, Yes/No? How do you do it? 

It’s way late in the night and in between the short cycles of sleep. Sleep that’s been a bigger part of deliberating, pseudo scheming. Your body wants but the heart is scared, a bit reluctant. You wouldn’t wanna do anything silly. You love, have fondness for and respect each other, you don’t want to lose that. You can’t compromise that.


It’s always around 4am, you give in. “Hey are you awake?” getting closer, crotch on her naked butt, fingers down her spine. You lean closer and kiss her neck. “Uhh, what are you doing?”, she faintly asks. You have no answer to that. The only reply is hurried kisses to the lips, shush, getting on top to better lock lips. The kiss is your Judas to her Jesus, to betray what you have, to mask the anticipated disappointment, to conquer your quest.

And soon as the last arrow is shot from the bow, it gets higgledy-piggledy. Reality sets in. You both fall back and catch a breath. Hold hands, kiss a little, dry lips and weak knees. You cuddle some more and the questions fall in after a short respite.

“Hey, what did we just do?”
“I have no idea too, I think I’m losing it”
“Hmmm, what do you mean?”
“Mahn, I missed you, I hope you did too”
“Of course, I did” “It’s really been long and…”
“And what?”
“Nevermind,let’s sleep”
“You know you can always say it all to me.”

15 minutes of sleep that’s all,  just 15 minutes of cooling off the post-coital body heat. She turns around and says “If I told you a secret would it remain between us.” “Of course I wouldn’t tell, come on I know where all your bodies are buried. You know I kiss more, tell less, don’t you?” you reply with that look that opens the doors to the deepest chambers of the soul.


“Come close then, I wanna whisper something to you. You know walls of these days, the NSA and shit.”she says.As You get close she kisses you on the nose, slightly missing the lips. “Come one now, that’s cheating,” you lazily mewl.You fall back giggling, look each other in the eye and smile.

“Two things my dearest friend; one, I found myself a good man, whom I love and, and have plans for the future with, so forever hold your piece peace. Two, once is never enough for the last time.” So, how is your tongue?…






By Amanya

all need to know

7 replies on “Marie Jeanette.”

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