The day of the baboon: a memoir

On that material day, a Friday, a day straight from the abyss, I learnt my hard lesson. In the cruelest possible way.

I learnt that selfishness is a virtue of the greedy stock.

 I also learnt that one man’s happiness, contentment and fulfillment, is as sacred as another man’s. Bet you didn't know that, huh?

I learnt too that however smart one is, they cannot outsmart every human soul.

After that day, what was left of me was a husk full of rue, guilt and self-detestation. Don’t even mention the embarrassment.

A beautiful day that morning was. Sunny and cloudless, the weather seemed to be in communion with the calm that filled my heart. Hope, happiness and …lit my countenance.

I had a date. 

Not one. But three dates! 

So many for one man, right? If you have ever vainly tried for so long to knit a Friday-night date, only to succeed when you least expected, I bet you have no trouble getting the gist.

‘It’s really my day today,’ I kept mumbling to myself all day as I rippled about my errands in college.

My friends too knew that their crony was expecting a blast of a Friday evening. On social media, this subject –of my triple dates –was discussed in an enormity that would delight the heart of an attention seeker en masse.

The first date was my ex-girlfriend. Crazy? I know. But that was it. Admittedly, we had long parted, but both of us were still living in the shadow of our former love.

When I had suggested the meeting with a positive response from her, I had jumped in joy and stroked anticipation.

Second was a friend. 

Kate and I were so close that it was hard to tell if ours was plain friendship or real dating. We told ourselves that we were not, and that we were ‘just friends’.

Buddies though could not believe a word of it. For a genuine reason. There were many benefits in this affair: massages, kisses, sleepovers, favours and...you know what.

Third was a crush. 

Neither of us had so far had the guts and strength to break the ice. What I knew was that I liked and, loved her. She loved me too, as everything she did to me indicated. 

Did I say she was a First Year student? But it doesn’t matter, does it? Good.

Your buds have never tasted love from someone five-years younger! Gee, the devotion! Come the dawn of Saturday, who knew what could have been forged?

My small test though, fortunately or unfortunately, is that all the dates fell on a Friday, the 6^th of November.

I wanted to have them all. Greedy? No. Lucky.

"Whatever I have with each of the trio is special in its own sense." Such was my wisdom.

Blinded by desire and my cockiness of the moment, I did not see this as a glaring quicksand, but as an absolutely blissful opportunity for an unrelenting seeker of romantic satisfaction.   

Minutes and hours seemed to be on a go-slow today. They seemed to drag so much as I revelled in my heightened anticipation. I tried to distract myself with a number of activities,  in vain. I tried to sleep, to talk to friends, and all which ended before time had moved any considerable units.

The ennui! The boredom! The eagerness! How they gnawed on my gut!

Evening did come eventually.

My earlier boredom was replaced by anxiety and the place of confidence taken up by...fear. How fragile a human being can get!

How will the dates turn out? Is it the wisest thing to have so much for the night? What if they get to know of my selfish plan, learn of my cruel intentions? What will happen? 
Such are the questions that ceaselessly smote my cranium.

If one date crumbled, I would have two to spare. That was my self-comfort, as I prepared for the extraordinary evening. 
If it was too bad for me and two dissipated, I would still have one to enjoy, like a man should. 
Man, my fancy!

Presently, my phone rang. It was Martha.

  
"Hey, stranger. Are you still coming?’ I was to go to her place. A visit that would end up, probably, in a sleepover.

Sighing a huge relief that she had not cancelled the date:  

"Yeah, why the fucking not?" Eagerness and vulgarity married.

"I’ve been waiting for so long. Please hurry, I miss you."

"I miss you too." my voice was throaty, and broken. Excitement.

Then a costly slipup. 

Damn me! I asked her a stupid question. About what kind of visit mine was. It was informal, what else? I proceeded to enquire about how long the visit would take, who with she was and other such idiotic questions. For worse.

The queries raised her red flag. The horse broke from the stable. Fast it trotted down the field.  

My perpetual pleas and entreaties that ours would be a harmless meeting fell on ears of steel. 

She had made up her mind: we would instead meet during the day, any day, preferably in a public place.

If you are still grappling with the semantics of that statement, sorry. The date was no more.

Dejected, I hung up.

"But you have two more, son" a consolatory voice inside me said to me.

Coincidentally, Kate steeped in. She found me still holding my phone, and an evident look of forlornness etched on my mien.

We hugged tightly, upon which I was somewhat comforted. Except that I did not know that what was to come was even more heartrending.

On a glass of passion juice, we sat for a chat. The conversation was short and precise.

She explained summarily that she would not be spending the night at my place with me. A friend had promised to take her for a night out. Curse the devil!

Thus she left.

I now had one chance. If this one failed, I would be done for, totally.
Reluctantly, I picked my phone. I dialled slowly. And listened. 

My veins constricted. My heart thumped. My palms were suddenly wet with sweat.

Continues...