After several weeks of copulating, fighting, boring each other, watching movies and most enthusiastically trying to change each other, Cyrus and Zaina had finally decided to call it quits. Everyone around them was ecstatic. Cyrus himself had already begun to entertain libidinous thoughts of what every man misguidedly thinks a single life contains. He had missed out on a variety of women while he was with Zaina and he was ready to make up for that statistic. This idea, of course, was conceived from another, similarly pitiable idea – that he was at all capable of bedding all these “other women”, had he been unattached. But it is the nature of humans, isn’t it, to look over the fence and admire the neighbour’s lawn. This neighbour had a different life from your own and so his lawn was much better. It had better flowers, better grass and better soil. The soil had better water retention, had the right amount of earthworms doing what they do best, and was just all around, the star soil of the community. And since this neighbour was single, he had so much more time to tend to this lawn. Oh boy had Cyrus really wanted that lawn! With the soft grass and copious amount of space to plant as many seeds as he wished. This is not just a metaphor, because Cyrus had really missed his gardening. But for the most part it is a metaphor because Cyrus had missed having “penis freedom”. He had often declared to his male companions about how Zaina’s hoo-ha was a veritable “penis flytrap”. It was not the cleverest analogy and Cyrus was not the cleverest man, so the inanity had cancelled itself out. But his friends had laughed because he had made a good point. (It must be noted that they weren’t the cleverest of the species either so on the whole, this sort of conversation was like watching someone else’s sex tape – it’s uncomfortable and pointless for you, but at least the people involved are having a pleasant time, bless their souls.)
Cyrus had been intending to leave Zaina for quite a while. Unable to adjust to the rules of a courtship, Cyrus had often found himself exhausted, just trying to keep up. There were phone calls to be made, texts to be sent, emoticons to be timely used, and he had found out (the hard way) that “Dafuq?? LULZ” was not an appropriate response to “my appendix burst at work today, off to surgery, xo”. And even though it had only been a couple of months, Cyrus felt like he was on the world’s scariest ride and was about to throw up. This is also not just a metaphor, since Zaina often bit and punched during their amorous activities and he had nearly vomited during one such. He had forgotten what was so appealing about her to the extent that he would actually hold her at arms length sometimes, staring at her, trying to figure it out, cocking his head to one side like a dog does when you use a word he recognizes, like “food”. Cyrus had in fact, acquired this habit from his own dog “Monty”, who Zaina had declared to be “totes adorbs”. Zaina, on the other hand was quite clear on what was appealing about Cyrus – Monty.
And so the day had arrived. Hair brushed, beard shaved, dash of Drakkar Noir applied, Cyrus had decided to do the dirty deed. And as he sat on the park bench, waiting for his soon to be “she was crazy”, he went through his speech once more. He had spent a surprising amount of time on it and had even screened it through one of his few female friends, who basically removed all the “jokes” from it to make it sound less asinine. He waited and waited…
There’s more to come from Cyrus and Zaina (and maybe Monty too!). Please stay tuned for weekly entries. This is something new that i’m trying and i’ve no idea which way the story is going. So I look forward to your comments and suggestions should you have any. Cheers!