The African man
Happy socks, brown shoes, fitted suit and the perfect features. He is seated steps across the room, yet he remains a site to behold. Dark, tall, and handsome meeting the standards of my friend’s preference in men, while supplementing mine in the way he carries himself.
He’s got suave, style and his body language surely speaks as his diction sounds. He is smart, confident and cultured, from the wrist bands he is wearing – including one of those that detail colours of the flag of Kenya. The only fault in this star is the ring on his finger. Which draws my attention to his hands even more. Medium size palms embellished with the type of fingers you imagine interlocking with yours. Slim but manly, not too short and not too long just perfect.
He also has a small belly forming confirming that his wife takes the time to cater to him. He is one of the reasons they say, behind every successful man is a woman. From this I deduce he must be happy in his marriage, which I am also assuming happened recently. I can tell from the way he looks proud displaying his ring finger.
Agewise, he looks like he is in his mid 30s and as I’ve heard people saying, he can definitely get it. His woman must be lucky to have all this and more that I can only imagine. Like, his fingers grasping me as hard as he holds that mic and his mouth fluent as he speaks to the panel he’s interviewing. Read: Lasso his heart.
Oh, I could get lost in his eyes. They are laser like but not in terms of colur, say blue crystals, resembling the ones you see on white flurry kids, No sir. His have the intensity like those of a lion on a hunt and the calculative instinctive stare that makes an African man. Love in a hopeless place.
He is the type to see, snatch and walk unscathed like a leopard in a jungle. I cannot even describe how sweet I’ve felt all this time our eyes have met accidentally. But for a moment that has made me wonder. What if he could read my thoughts? How would he respond with that mouth? Would he let it slide or would he inspire me more? Would he offer me a date or would he think me a trick? Would he speak my language or does he prefer body language?
I have so many questions for him but even if I don’t get answers that won’t make me frown. For this is just me appreciating the art that he is, and boy does he check out all the fantasies of a writer. Knows his words, talks like fluid and knows how to use sentences to get what he wants.
He is also a note taker which confirms that in another life, perhaps if we had met under different circumstances and not in this Economic update launch, I would be his book and he would be my pen. Thoughts of an African woman #part2.
Fancy more series? Start with: The final chapter