Perfect Blemish

She was an Athena in the flesh. The way she walked, talked, and smiled. The gods blessed her with the perfect set of teeth, without blemishes. “A goddess amongst men”, I imagined calling her one day. How can a human being so perfect, yet so flawed? Flawed because so many wanted her, and that scared me. After all, it’s hard for pretty girls to be faithful, so imagine a goddess.

I would still glance at her in the office when she presents. Or delay her work progress requests just to hear her call my name or send me a text “…gentle reminder…”, it would read. The good ole days it was. After work drinks, and watching football at a bar, I loved those activities because they got me closer. Close enough to feel the presence of her. Sometimes even touch her. What can I do to make you my lover??

When we first met, I thought she was stuck up. It was a tennis tournament. She was on the opposing team. Calm but vigorous. Grumpy loser too. We won, shook our bums in excitement, and bought everyone beer. Except her. She declined. Something about being in a hurry. That’s how she caught my attention. After that, I’d get to the court early on weekends just to see her warm-up. It warmed me up and eventually, she warmed up to me. Seemed open-minded to having conversations that a lot of people would shy from, especially because I don’t hide my affection for both genders.

I like to think she was my lover.

Dramatic pause

Don’t get me wrong, I was never hers, but she was mine. We took a couple of courses together at uni. She was always with her girls, and I was always gawking. Do you see it? Her, living her best life, and I, observing in utter mesmerized awe. 

Anyway, she was very nice, which was shocking to me. She’d smile at me from across the lecture hall. **shudder**

I know you’re probably thinking about why I invited all of them here today. Together. And why they’re sharing their stories of me. My “uniqueness”. Maybe I am the self-conceited b, after all. Who cares anyway. Today, I am laid to rest, and these are my eulogies. Sweet nothings for my soul. A moment of silence, please!

©Asiedua Yeboah

Athena