“I came, I saw, I conquered.” A man will
always whisper this saying, sipping his mug of coffee somewhere in a
balcony as he watches the setting sun. His heart is overcome with joy
and pride, so he lifts his hand in the air, and then he lets it fall
on his chest. He then repeats the act once again, this time with more
energy and zest. The corners of his mouth then begin to twitch, so
that a naughty grin is born, with words escaping his mouth “another
fish for my net”. All this will happen, whilst on the other side of
the world, a woman will be in her bedroom, the door locked, laying on
her bed as she holds tight to her pillow. She then sheds tears of
joy, feeling the love that she is drowning in so that she swears to
never leave the side of this man she has met. This man she is in love
with. Then she fishes out her diary and circles the day’s date.
Here, she squiggles a few strong words, words that echo the kind of
feelings she nurses in her heart; a heart that has been conquered, a
heart that has submitted, a heart that will never be the same again.
The following days will be warm days, days when
the air feels cooler, days when the wind feels gentler, days when the
hours are more generous with their time. The mugs of coffee are
emptied more often and the balcony is out of wear from the many
visits, a condition that it shares with the chest. On the other side,
the pillow becomes wet and the diary pages are inked to the very
remaining space. A heart is bursting with pride; a heart is bursting
with love. The net is bursting from the weight of excess fish, which
make more fish become slaves. They become slaves of a darling whose
inside is a Lucifer, yet they know not, for when the net is cast, it
looks so beautiful and attracting, yet it is the very source of
death.
Days trudge on. The woman visits her friends
often. Her face has those writings that spell happiness. She lets her
friends know that she is in love, that she has met the man of her
dreams, the apple of her eye. Her parents are even aware, that their
daughter is now tired of their nest and that she will be flying away
to distant lands whither she will build a home. For this, they are
happy and cry with joy, for a daughter was well raised, knowing that
their maker has fulfilled his promise. The woman goes to bed, and she
is soon bombarded with beautiful dreams, of a big nice wedding, of
beautiful children, a happy home and a loving husband. She wakes up
happier, for she knows that the day is coming when her ring less
finger shall be adorned by a beautiful diamond ring, a sign of love
from another soul, a soul which she loves dearly.
On the other side of the world, the man is a
bee. He makes gorgeous suits adorn him such that when he enters the
casino, all ladies take notice. And they do. He is a smooth player,
the kind that is patient with their prey; the kind that will broadly
smile at you so that you mistake that smile for genuine affection and
before you can even discern it, you are under his spell, another fish
for his net. His behavior soon graduates into a habit, an addictive
habit which he cannot survive without. For this, he ups his game and
more women are in his grip. This is his happiness. He has become a
fisher of women.
One day, he will call the woman and tell her
that he was not interested in her, that she mistook his generosity,
and that she misunderstood his kindness for love. It is at that
juncture when high aspirations come tumbling down. The tower of
happiness is but an ugly mess. The woman runs away in tears, she
cannot be consoled. The woman is such devastated, that she
contemplates suicide. Meanwhile, the man is the happiest of all men
when he sees her tears. It reminds him that he is still a man, that
he has powers, that he is simply the best, the lady whisperer.
Sitting on her bed, she makes a mess of her
diary, memories cannot let her be. The woman does not forget those
sweet words that were said to her, those words that broke her defense
and made her vulnerable. It makes her cry even more, but her family
is there for her. With time she heals and she is in love again. She
is in love with a man who cares for her, a man who cannot accept to
see her in grief. A home is built, and for eternity, the couple is
happy.
On the other side, women are flocking the man’s
world such that he does not know what to do with them. He is a happy
man, the game has proven to be worth, yet the passing of time has
escaped his mind. He has dug so deep a hole, such that he cannot get
out. He remembers the women he has hurt, women whose tears made his
heart lip with joy. He remembers everything. He is now determined to
get out of the hole, but he digs deeper instead, so that he reaches
the netherworld. So that on the heaped earth lays an epitaph. “He
who finds a wife finds a good thing, but the words were heard not.”
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