Grappling with the First Move - By Nimusiima Edward

Curse words and bad mother jokes are what defines this part of the blogosphere. However, tonight we have something new. Something fresh, drumroll please. Allow me to introduce my bradda from another mother, Nimusiima Edward, whom I call Ed...whom I've never met outside the internets and who's one of the most talented motherfuckers of our age.

He is such a badass, he doesn't use a pen or a paper, he just thinks up stuff and it lays itself bare on the page like that woman I woke up next to last Sunday afternoon. The only difference is that his work is stunning and she is...well, as beautiful as a woman can be after countless bottles of counterfeit alcohol. 

This piece will most likely leave you hitting on everything in a dress (including mannequins). And most likely, you'll get slapped by everything in a dress (including mannequins).

Enjoy

"Grappling with the First Move"

Making the first move to a girl has been bloody hard since when God was a boy. It is tedious and hard and needs one to bring his bravado to the fore. It scares me shitless. I grapple with it but then again, every sod who pees while standing can testify to it; one needs to exhibit infinite temerity and confidence to put his foot before another to pursue a lass.

Why is it hard, for chrissake?

I had a friend of mine at a certain shindig; a highbrow shindig. We slouched at our stools with glasses of our favourite poison nestled jealously in our hands. We sipped on our drinks slowly and jabbered a lot, with booze slowly embracing us in its frigging grip, and shooing us to typsy-ville.

My pal is this sharp bloke; sharp like a whip, hustler extraordinaire and he was blessed (or cursed by) an insatiable appetite for women. Who doesn't? Show me one and I'll show you a homo, or a moron.

It had been a while since we last met. We last met before the world moved on and we tossed to good old days. He had an obedient beard to which I was on a lookout to see an animal slither out. He was good looking to boot; quitessential male charm with cobalt eyes that turn ladies into putty, like Daniel Craig eyes. He still had his penchant for garments with instincts of a metro-sexual; smartass. A skinny tie tied studiously in his neck; it looked like a camel's tongue, that tie. He looked like a black version of Harvey Specter in Suits. He's shaven close to his scalp.

He would lethargically throw a swig at the back of his throat, squirms and spews about something corny, mainly women. He was fiercely single, he whined as he emptied his glass. I chortled, looked away and laughed hard. He tapped my shoulder and pointed at the door.

A lady shadowed the door; a pretty little lass teteered in high heels that made her dwarf everything; she was poised on her toes, literally, like a deer about to run. Tall, slender with an ungodly ass.

He bit his lower lip, my friend, leaned closer to me, noses almost touching, and hissed, "She is mine, that girl!".

 The lass sauntered in and ambled gently as if she's brittle, that she would veer off and shatter her beauty. She curled herself at the far-end. She had sexy oval-shaped eyes and well oiled luscious lips with her bustle trying to catch up with her; a rare gem, that pretty little thing.

 My friend fumbled with confidence. His heart throbbed in his ears. And even though he was already in typsy-ville, he was as scared as bat shit falling through the night sky. 

He wanted to pee. "Shit, I gotta go. Watch and learn." He said, gently as he twisted his tie slightly, the way James Bond does before whining, "shaken or stirred". He was afraid to put his foot before the other, afraid to indulge, to push the boat, whatever gongs your bell. His knees drifted, and turned jelly.

He gawked at her, more intently, like an archeologist's staring at a treasured stone. His stiff face melted with phobia and a slight smile stretched his cheeks. I cackled with mirth. He cleared his throat, stepped off his stool and waltzed off.

He instead bundled outside.

***

Before you do anything rash, I suggest you Like me on Facebook and Follow me on Twitter. There are a few pointers on how to dodge slaps there.