Train seats and passing night ships

I remember how proud I was to call her mine when she resisted the advances of a super horny indian who wanted to sit in the city hall concert with her but she was waiting for her boyfriend to arrive which used to be me but isn’t anymore.

I feel like Ebenezer scrooge in the Christmas carol observing my life in the company of ghosts as if peering through a soul window.

She chose to sit behind me instead of next to me.

That action broke my heart.

She was clearly communicating her displeasure at being questioned by the cops after she demonstrated physical disgust at my attempts to touch her hand by shoving me away.

The irony was she would allow me access to far more sensitive and stimulating areas when we were just keeping company with the pleasant trio of God the birds and the trees.

She was so sweet when she lay her head on my lap in the movies when we literally had half an hour to watch less than half a movie cos she had to rush off to collect a parcel from the airport for her work back home at the soft drink company.

She told me how her uncle berated her sister for going clubbing when he was slurring his speech and clearly drinking heavily.

She told me about her father’s dual careers as a pastor and builder and his lifelong passion both for the Anglican church and his far more debilitating affection for cigarettes.

She always used to give her dad food cos if she gave him money he would just waste his body away puffing up a storm making his own personal chimney stack.

Her brother was good enough at soccer to be a junior professional.

His team won a few championships.

Maybe the problem was i like a challenge too much.

She made it too easy for me.

She even secured permission for me to marry her by asking her dad on my behalf.

The only effort required on my part was simply to buy a ring and stay committed to her the second part of which I failed at miserably.

We had communication problems from the start but we mostly managed to overcome them the more accustomed we became to each other’s accents.

I think she always understood me better than i did her.

She said she felt like she had been tricked or trapped into a  relationship with me.

The only time she was completely relaxed and comfortable when we shared company with others was when mum and dad were with us.

Even then she was quiet as a mouse around them and didn’t say much.

Obviously I didn’t know her well enough to avoid losing her but I knew her well enough to figure out that she never put on a show with me.

I only caught her lying twice about watching horror movies and falling in love with me later than she previously stated.

It was always love at first sight for me however fickle my commitment to her happened to be.

Now I have gone beyond crying all the time.

I just blow up in angry fumes at my parents whenever they ask me to do something other than stuff my gob with corn on the cob.


That’s not necessarily related to being the owner of a broken heart due to my own mismanagement of hers but it sure doesn’t help matters.

If a girl knows I’m a cheater before she gets into a relationship with me She is probably not likely to start one unless she’s absolutely desperate for company.

Sometimes she was reluctant to answer my tougher brand of questions

I could tell her face was getting increasingly squeamish as if to say do i really have to tell you this

Whilst Fighting an internal battle to resist her own reluctance to divulge her deepest darkest secrets at our first meeting.

She told me her dad liked Derek prince (like mine ) and she was a fan of Joseph prince ( like mine used to be but isn’t now ).

I’m not sure if doing this is hurting me or helping me.

I certainly haven’t made any money out of it but now I know i have an audience other than Jesus i am more conscious about the impact of my words, how they might be received and the possible repercussions of expressing my emotional turmoil and occasionally lust crazy state of mind.

I’m like a pendulum swinging between hedonism and holiness.

I think we all are to a certain degree we are just not always conscious of it.

Some try to redefine faith or doubt on their own terms but creating your own interpretation of what something is doesn’t change the essential elements of what it is just the way you perceive it.

I definitely became more sensitized to my friends struggles with maintaining their purity when she and I found ourselves drifting towards greater physical intimacy as we found ourselves continually revisiting the same conversations in fear that if we drifted off a safe topic we might completely fall apart.

I found it difficult to be completely honest with her since she set the rules of our relationship by saying she liked the fact i didn’t question her about past relationships just other mostly positive experiences with exception to the struggle her church faced to maintain membership when the pastor started to avoid showing up for meetings without cancelling them before hand.

She mistook a transvestite for a woman in fiji cos he was the first she had seen in her life.

Her misguided Samoan friend told her off for praying for him instead of her.

Our first spiritual crossroads came when she said abortion should be allowed in the case of rape and I quietly disagreed and changed the topic.

I did help her a little bit with biblical insight.

She taught me to spend time alone with God before church started.

She couldn’t do it the same way that she did in Solomons because they don’t let you into our sanctuary into a couple of minutes before the service starts so it’s harder to find that private space.

She used to be a worship leader at her church.

She had a go at playing guitar.

Her Samoan friend taught her when she was doing door to door Evangelism in Singapore and fiji.

One Muslim told her off for sharing her faith.

Plenty of indian Fijian families came to church as a result of her Evangelism.

She had to pay a fine for staying awake after curfew and chatting in boys rooms.

She never ventured beyond the door of mine


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