Mr Big

The 21st century woman is independent, fun-loving and most importantly blunt. She says what’s on her mind fearing none and is not hassled with what society thinks of her decisions. However, when it comes to being with someone, there’s a lot that she has on her checklist. I recall my 16 year old self telling my best friend over a can of ice cream, about the traits of my ideal man. My ideal man is handsome…My ideal man is someone who’s simple…My ideal man is someone who cares…My ideal man should basically be someone like my daddy. “What about your ideal classmate?” she inquired. “I’d want one who is definitely not good looking, one who listens, is polite, kind, a hard worker and helpful.”, she continued. “Mmhmm…I’ve never quite thought about it but an Idris Alba look-alike if not him for a classmate”, I said. “Oh, let’s not forget one who buys me lunch every day and does my assignment when am not in the mood”, I quipped.
Almost three years ago, I met ‘Mr. Big ’. I call him that not because he is anything like the Sex in the city character we have all grown to love but because this boy or should I say this man is BIG in all areas; class, confidence, beauty among others. Yes, I said beauty because handsome cannot quite do justice to describe him.
I met him at a friend’s who happened to be throwing a house party. I saw him seated on the carpeted floor scanning the room with an IPAD on his right hand and a glass of whisky in the other. The moment I saw him, he reminded me of my all time crush, Idris Alba. He was dressed in a flawless fitting white shirt with a grey trench coat and black slacks. On his feet, he had a pair of black shoes that looked freshly shined. Detail seemed to be his best friend because he looked like those male models that graced the covers of the magazines. I met his gaze and wished I hadn’t. His ball-bearing eyes were small and black. He was gorgeous and he knew it but I was not about to let him know that I knew it too. He had a gorgeous bone structure, his well-oiled dark short hair suggested an abundance of cowlicks needing to be tamed, and had glowing dark skin. All I could imagine was sitting next to him on the floor and catching a whiff of clean soap mixed with not so heavily scented cologne, or perhaps a touch of aloe from his hair gel. As he brought the glass of whisky to his mouth while still maintaining eye contact, his muscles bulging in his perfectly-proportioned body like boulders being pushed to the surface by tectonic activity, I scowled. No pleasantries exchanged, no words shared, I immediately exited the room.
As I sat in my 8 am class on a Monday morning trying to make small talk with my new ‘friend’ who sat next to me, I suddenly caught a glimpse of a figure walking towards the empty seat that was next to me. I then heard a booming voice say, “Hello. My name is Ryan. Could you please assist me with the time table.” Immediately, I thought, “Who’s this clown interjecting in on my conversation and furthermore, did he not get the mail that was sent to everyone in regards to the time table?” “It’s the first day of school for petes sake”. As I turned around ready to give him a glaring stare. I saw him. He had a smirk on his face. “Oh My!” “Mr. Big! “… I was MORTIFIED!


Maureen Ngétich