“You’ve got such interrogative eyes.”
Interrogative eyes? Really? Was that the best pick-up line I could come up with? Maybe I just panicked, or I was being the overconfident douche I usually am when meeting new people. Who knows? All I know and care about right now is that her name is eternally scribed on my heart, and her radiant face will forever be engraved in my mind. All that matters is that she is my dream come true, and I love her.
Her name is Kareena Gool. As I’m writing this blog post I am hysterically laughing my ass off picturing the confused look you probably have on your faces right now. You never expected a tall-ass proudly Xhosa guy from the dusty streets of Zolani in Ashton to be confessing his undying love for a Cape Malay Muslim girl. But this is no standard Cape Malay girl; she amazes me each day as to how someone who’s as human as all of us can be so unique that not even God can look like her. I am terrible when it comes to saying what’s in my heart, so I thought I should write to her this love letter showing how I appreciate this unique being she is.
Gool. My love
You’re probably sitting down with a half-smile and furrowed brows scanning this love letter for bad grammar and misplaced commas. Well I don’t care if you find any. What I care about is that you’re as happy as you’ll ever be, because I can’t imagine my beard not having your hand to caress it. I don’t want to imagine not ever seeing your beautiful face again. You’re unbelievably beautiful. When God made you, he cursed for the first time. He turned to an angel on his right, gave him a high five and said “G*d damn I’m good!”
You are that beautiful. You’re a different kind of beautiful. You’re a different kind of woman altogether. You’re the kind of woman I wonder as to why she would bother looking into the mirror before leaving the house, because there is no way she could ever not be beautiful. The kind of woman who can be hated by so many for what she feels is right or loved by none for she never bothered to kiss ass. You gave me something I’ve never had before. You gave me that “my friends think I’m crazy” kind of love. That reckless kind of love. That “wake-up-early-make-you-breakfast” kind of love. That “no matter what happens you get the best of me” kind of love. That “you get my heart & mind, and the world gets the rest of me” kind of love. That “I invest in you” kind of love, because you know I’ll give you my “I’m invested in you” kind of love. That “you come to me upset you don’t have to say anything because I know just what to do” kind of love.
You kiss me so softly that I can no longer speak, and then suck my ex-girlfriend’s name out of my mouth just to make sure she never comes up in our conversations. You’re the one who made me realise that our interracial love needs not make sense to anyone but to God and the two of us. Because right now, I am because you are. We have been happily together for well over a year now and have had more fights than my parents, who (before my father passed) had been married for about 40 years. One of those fights I will never forget – it was about potato wedges at breakfast. Don’t you dare laugh! That was a serious argument, OK! But as much as we argue, as much as we express our love verbally or otherwise, on this Valentine’s Day of 2017 I am making you a promise. I promise that I will love you as if it’s the only thing that I’ve ever done correctly.
This is not the end of my love letter, for it is said true love has no end. We cannot declare that what we have is true love, but what we can is that our love is a “fuck the world we’re making it” kind of love.
To the rest of the world, this is her. The keeper of my smile, my soulmate, the love of my life, however the hell people describe the one’s they want to spend the rest of their lives with – but this is her.
‘Till Next Time Peeps, Bhabhayini!