The Secret that strengthened our Love; And ruined it.

People express love differently. They do a hand full of silly things that as an outsider you may find weird and infuriating, but for lovers, a way to have quality time. So you don't have to just judge couples.

My ex, his face was richly endowed with big and at times swollen ripe pimples with yellow pus peeping through the pimple windows as if trying to push through towards freedom. It’s like we were always on competition. He, of course, was the unbeatable winner ‘cause my pimples only came around during that time of the month and were usually tiny, swelling only when provoked. Zabuloni and I always popped each other’s ripe pimples for fun. 

How it started. 

One of those lonely evenings, Zabu and I agreed to meet under one of the shades around city square. Most coupes did meet there. We talked all there was to talk about and suddenly there was nothing else left to do than stare at each other which was rather boring. Finally, as if he had been practicing the line over and over again in his head, he whispered, ‘you look beautiful’. I grinned heftily. Never the less, I couldn't say the same about his roughly pimpled face. 

‘Don't those pimples pain you a lot?’, I asked.

‘A little.' He said, shrugging his shoulder as if in his mind saying, ‘if my pimples embarrass u then turn to the left .'

The left was no option for me. I couldn't replace my Zabu in just a minute like Beyonce brags. That would be impossible. I needed to find a way to make the situation less awkward than I had made it. 

'Why don’t you pop the ripe ones? I could help.’

'No my doctor said I shouldn't pop them.'

‘Well, doctors say a lot of stuff. Can I pop them?’, I pleaded. An instant exclamation formed on his face. 

I lured him into getting the next taxi to my condo in Kikoni. The dangerous game begun. 

I boiled water to clean his face and wash my hands, cotton wool and spirit to cleanse the pimple area before Operation Erasing Ripe Pimples begun. Plasters were in place. With the cleansing done, I popped all three ripe pimples till all the white heads were out. I applied spirit again and then placed the tiny plasters against all the operated parts. My man, Zabuloni looked like Nelly (v.3).

He may not have mentioned a thing about it, but I noticed that our relationship became even stronger. He called more often, I could almost bet he wished he had a new ripe pimple to talk about every time he called me on pakalast. Two weeks later, my own tiny ones started developing and maturing. Zabu, without asking got all necessary equipment and started the Operation on me as well.

We found us a hobby. Very often while chatting on phone we would ask each other if there was any new development on our faces that needed to be worked on. If there was one, we would meet as soon as possible before nature or accident would break the ripe ones and spoil our chances of having fun. 

How it led to our breakup. 

Pimple popping, like I said, was strengthening our relationship until one day, Zabu called saying he urgently needed us to meet. That day I had promised a friend who had just given birth that I would go help her sort the baby gifts she had received. Zabu pleaded that instead I visit the baby the next day. I declined. The next day I called Zabu with the intention of asking him over so we would get on with it. His phone had been switched off. Only hours later, I noticed he had left a note which he had passed beneath the door. My Zabu had sent me to the left, just 'cause of one damned ripe pimple.

Just one pimple! I could not believe it. Zabu and I had been through a lot together. Tough times had come but we had still been victorious. Like when I first found out that he was 26 instead of 19 like he had always mentioned. I was only 17, innocent and guileless. I told him I could not date a sugar daddy. Somehow, he had managed to convince me that sugar daddies were always 20 years of more older. Zabu was only 9 years older. I forgave him. Another incident was when I found out that he had all along lied to me that he was Muslim. One thing I had always wanted was to be called ‘Hajati’ and I knew that Zabu would be a shortcut. One fateful day I found out he was Christian all the while. He pleaded with tears and bent knees that I cried along with him. I forgive him.

I only could not imagine why after all we had been through, something that had strengthened our relationship could actually break it up that way.