How I Met Her
Laying cozily on my bed, feeling a sense of fulfilment after eventually completing all I had planned for the day, which was basically a bunch of nothing and three episodes of young Sheldon, I picked up my phone which was still charging, quickly opened WhatsApp to see if there was any “mnyonge” to demolish pale Efootball. As I waited for the chats to update, this one group caught my attention.
The AMSUN book club WhatsApp group. Thursday, 11.03 pm.
Slowly opening the six hundred plus messages, this one raised my eyebrow. “We should all be feminists should be our book of discussion this month”, the admin had typed. I skimmed through the rest of the messages to see the responses. The group chat was on fire – well, more like a full-blown war zone. After quickly reading the short book, whose pdf had been sent amidst the chats, I came back ready to dodge in now with “content”.
After carefully reading all messages which didn’t seem like were going to stop anytime soon, I picked my target. An unknown entity with a profile picture as blank as a government redacted document. Let's call her Carol. Well, that was her username.
She was the fiercest of them all. She weaved emotional appeals with the dexterity of a seasoned weaver, and I, ever the knight in slightly tarnished armor, found myself strangely drawn to the fight. Finally, with a flourish that would make a Shakespearean actor proud, I delivered the final blow, leaving Carol silenced in the digital arena.
“Most of that book lacks relevance considering the fact that first it was published a decade ago and records events of two decades ago. Second, your arguments lack any facts, and you are just a bitter insecure girl who probably has never been hit on by any decent guy. Lastly, you are taking this personal and trying to bring out feminism as wanting equal opportunities as men while dying to keep the privileges that comes with being female.”, it read.
A private message notification flickered on my screen, a lone white flag in the midst of the carnage. My heart, a muscle usually as enthusiastic as a sloth on a Tuesday, did a little pirouette. Carol, it seemed, had surrendered, but not without a parting shot.
"Yikes, good luck to your future wife," her message read, laced with a hint of amusement. "But hey, I kinda dig your style.”
A grin stretched across my face. "Some of your arguments were as lost as a penguin in the Sahara," I replied, a playful jab. "Sorry I went full-on beast mode on you, stranger."
"It's okay," she conceded, "but maybe a little chivalry wouldn’t hurt, you know?"
Ah, the age-old chivalry debate. "Isn't that the feminist card you all pull to rule over weak men?" I countered, already anticipating her response.
"Being gentle doesn't make you weak," she argued. "Some girls actually like it."
A challenge? Be still, my beating heart. "So, would you like me if I were all sunshine and roses?” I teased.
"Honestly?" she replied with refreshing honesty. "No. It would scream weakness from a mile away. But the way you schooled me in that debate… kinda hot."
There it was, a compliment hidden under a layer of insults, but hey, I’d take it, "Alright, I’ll admit, I was just destined to win that argument with a stranger. Though, I meant some of what I said, not all of it."
The conversation flowed after that, a meandering stream skipping over smooth pebbles of curiosity. We debated car doors (weird, right?) and how they somehow turned into a metaphor for modern dating.
"Some girls feel like royalty," she admitted. "Others think it's just an outdated entitlement."
"What about you?" I pressed; the question laced with a newfound curiosity. "Princess or… something else?"
"I'm not sure yet," she confessed.
An idea sparked in my mind. "How about we meet," I suggested, "and you tell me how you feel after I open a car door for you?"
A beat of silence, then, "I'd love to," she replied, "but stranger danger and all that. Don’t wanna be another 'BNB incident."
I chuckled, a sound as warm as a crackling fireplace. "You're hilarious," I remarked.
"If you like my sense of humor," she countered, "there's probably more of me you'll like."
I laughed, a genuine, full-bodied laugh. "Well, I already like your pretty face."
"You haven't even seen it," she pointed out, a playful note in her voice.
"True," I admitted, "but don't you think by now any interested guy wouldn't have gotten the intel from your contacts? Yet, here I am, smitten by the girl who's the talk of the class."
A gasp. "Wait, you're in our class?"
"Not exactly," I revealed, the anticipation building. "But I happen to have a mentee who is."
"So you stalked me?" she accused, but the accusation lacked bite.
"Kinda," I admitted with a sheepish grin. "You were just too irresistible." Before she could respond, I added, "By the way, good luck with your CAT tomorrow. I'll be waiting for you outside the exam center. We can grab a drink afterwards – pathology can be a beast."
A pause, then, a single word that sent a thrill down my spine. "Cool. See you then."
part 2 link
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