The first year,
another thousand
memories.

Hey Polpetta,

It’s been a minute. As I write this, I am trying to keep my cool, but never in my wildest dreams did I ever think a year could be so long yet so short. It flew by so fast, and yet, at times, it seemed so distant. But through it all, it showed me a lot. Today is our day, mostly for you. And I would like to make a few things clear.

First, I know I have not been the best boyfriend one could ask for. I have fallen short in some categories, but despite my flaws, I am more than happy that I was chosen and you kept choosing me regardless of me being a pain in the ass. In my stupidity, I always thought that you were picked based on the ability to have fewer flaws or suppress them, but you taught me that there is genuine growth and there is no shame in working towards being better.

I cannot change the times I was a dick to you—not that I don’t give you some, maybe the best you’ve ever had—but I can make a deliberate choice to be better for you. I can make a choice to move towards being the person you will be proud to be associated with.

Well, today is not a day for reminiscing about the past, but a day to stamp a new milestone. A year si mchezo. Many stop and give up along the way, but here we are. So allow me to take some time and share with you some of my best memories with you. Remember PBL? Of course you do; you are the owner of the name, mfa mfl. You never got your props, but you never forgot.

I could speak all day about the PA where I held your hand. I have never known what the link between novelty and attraction is. I have held hands with friends and family in prayers and all that, but holding yours made me feel somehow happy, like it was something worth labelling an achievement. Remember Kisumu? I was so obsessed, but expressing those feelings was hard. The most I could do was want to be with you or want you not to do anything. I felt that maybe, if you felt how much I cared, you would know what I felt. It was not brotherly care; it was more.

Then the best two memories: pre-exams and Uongozi. Dayum. Those moments in the comp lab were the best. The novelty in our hugs, the novelty in our sharing, always drove me crazy. I would spend hours thinking of the right time to come to you, but as I did, I would try to make sure that I was not looking weird or desperate. But I have to admit, you were homey. I wanted to be with you ’cause I was not judged for who I was; I was welcomed, and I did the same for you. But maybe it was not the talking. Maybe it was the hugs we shared later on that really made a difference.

Then you ask yourself, “It was just a hug, right?” Well, hell nah! Over time, I have come to realise it’s not just a hug, it’s not just a kiss, it’s not just a make-out session; it’s WHO. You were the Who in my What that made the Why relevant. It was you who made the hug feel special, and indeed it was.

I could go on all day about us, but that is to show you that the “dust” era is usually just a joke, and that I am proud of us. I am proud of Prom, I am proud of our first sleepover, I am proud of our first time. I am proud of the first time I could not tell whether your trousers were buttoned or zipped.

As I say, one up, one down. One thing I would want to ask of you is not to look five years ahead. No, it may strip you of the chance to enjoy the days now. Instead, let’s take each minute as it comes, then a day, then weeks, then months, then another year, then another, then another, till the day you put a ring on this finger—that is, if you beat me to it.

I choose you hence.

With love,
Smith