The farm boy who loved me.

I didn't think much of him because he didn't look like what I had, had in mind as my husband to be. I had designed my children and what they would sound and look like. This, was definitely not the picture I had in mind! Heaven and it's citizens know it wasn't. Not by a long shot. As far as east is from west actually. His nose was strange. He was too skinny. Wore thick glasses. Didn't look urban enough. What I mean by that is that he looked like he had just arrived in Jozi for the very first time and stepped out of a long distance bus which was probably yellow in colour. The bus was probably one of those where goats were allowed to traveled with people. While in that bus his mother probably packed him idombolo and boiled chicken to eat on the way to Joburg. And just to make him feel extra special for doing so well at Varsity the year before, his dad might have given him extra money to buy himself a can of Coca cola to take down the dombolo and chicken. This guy is really not my type, not my man, he means nothing to me.................................................................................... I wasn't being fussy. I was just aware of what I wanted from God in a man. And a man rocking an s-curl in 2012 was definitely not it! I can just see him sitting at a salon with Dark n' Lovely chemical on his hair with another grown man carefully monitoring that his scalp doesn't burn. Hell no! The brother tucks in his golf shirt into his jeans...Like, who does that? Then there's that gold tooth in his mouth that hits the suns rays each time he smiles, the rays then bounce against his matching gold watch causing instant blindness to anyone looking at him. Ahhh This is so not my portion! I didn't mean to tell God how to do his job in choosing a mate for me, but my grandmother having a baby now like Sarah from the bible did sounds more realistic than me falling in love with this man. Somethings cannot be overlooked, this dude...is one of them. I think here God might have confused things a bit. Me and this guy are nothing alike. He's the type of person who doesn't mind having a sit down meal at King pie along Bree street with his woman. Whereas I would not be caught even eating a pie alone in my closet. He looks like the type who would then take a stride hand in hand with his woman at Joubert park then relax on the grass and take down the filling steak and kidney pie with Tropica, pineapple flavour. He would then spice up the date by lying in the park horizontally whilst making his lady giggle by whispering sweet nothings into her ear about how beautiful she looks in her summer dress. This would all happen in broad daylight with Jozi's traffic as the soundtrack and Jozi's filth as the background to their love story. He'll then surprise her by whipping out a huge packet of Romany cream biscuits that she didn't see hidden in his free ANC bag that he might have gotten when he went to the Luthuli house to apply for a job the day before. She will then have those with her Tropica. And he and her just make sense. But hell no is that gonna be me! I think God really does have a sense of humour because this is definitely not what I had in mind when I said please send me my prince charming................................................................................................... Funny enough this guy seemed to think I was perfect just as I was. He would just stare at me and tell me that even though we were just colleagues, it wouldn't be this way for always. He claimed his love for me was beyond what I could see, feel or touch. The farm boy said he was in love with the God who lived in me. He would say I was beautifully, perfectly and wonderfully made by God and that the pimples on my face that I tried to hide made me even more pretty. He told me to stop hidding behind my forced cleavage and good looks. Said I didn't need to rely on my appearances to gain people's attention. He said as I am, I was good enough. Good enough to be loved.Loved completely. He hated the eye shadow I wore to cover up the rings around my eyes, he preferred me without my weave. Strange bloke I tell you. He'd comment on how every time I looked at him my eyes showed him the image of God. I'd roll my eyes and say "blah blah blah". But I knew this man respected me. I couldn't see beyond the fact that he just wasn't attractive. Very uneasy on the eye I must say. Whenever he would call me on my phone I would hear the holy spirit whisper in my spirit and say "Two will become one". My spirit would leap when his oily head walked into the office, even though my body would cringe at the thought of him. I'd ignore his greasy, farmy self until one day in an audible voice, clearer than anything I had ever heard before God said to me...