Expectations

My name is Zite, and just so you know, I’m a good catch. I’m as good as they come. I am the complete T.D.H package, and very loaded… you know. I am even the envy of my friends.

That should be a joke, please.

But you see, I’m very grateful for my current state in life. I have a beautiful wife; actually, the wife of my dreams. She’s tall, pretty, beautifully complexioned, adorned with some lovely skin, well curved and oh so physically blessed. She’s homely, kind and has that  ever enviable 10/10 taste in fashion. I love her. We have two lovely kids and I’m grateful. I just wish she’d be a little bit more.

It wasn’t made to come out like that, I’m sorry. I just want some more. That’s what I mean. Don’t get me wrong, my wife is perfect in her own way. At least, from what I’ve told you, you should know. But, I just think something is missing, and that is what I seek.

Anyway, I’m dealing with this as greed, and learning to move over it by moving on with what I have.

By the way, we both have corporate careers. My wife is doing well with the communication company she works with, and I’m not doing badly myself. I was recently promoted to a senior partner in my company, a position not many in my age have attained. Let’s just say that I am yet to be forty.

But, just so you know, I take my work very seriously, so I’m not quite surprised at where I already am. Add to that the Lord’s continuous blessings, then, I’m game.

But this is the story I have for you.

I was at work one day when this particular lady stepped into my office.

‘Hello, I’m Zara, and I was just assigned to work with you as an external management consultant’ she said with so much friendliness.

What a joke, I thought to myself. Such a fine name on a plain face. What is it with these generation of young women that do not take note of the fact that their looks is the first thing a man takes note of?

‘You don’t look Zara’ I heard myself spill underneath my breath as I looked over her unprofessional hair and un-made-up face.

‘Pardon?’ she squinted, staring confusedly back at me. Her smile gone.

‘Well, I’m sorry you heard that. But, you don’t appear like one whom should be taken seriously, especially, looking like that’ I replied with all the fake smile and disgust I could muster.

‘May I sit?’ she replied with a scorn, which forced me to readjust in my sit. I think I had expected her to apologize or something like that.

‘Of course…’ I started to stammer, but she beat me to it, made her self very comfortable and spoke sternly to me.

‘I’m Zara, I work for your organisation and not for you. I am to work with you, if you behave yourself and comply, or I shift you aside for someone more compliant… So, are you game?’

I was shocked. I felt ambushed. Not that a woman has never been forthright with me, but I hadn’t expected such level of boldness from a woman that plain. It was a bit frightening and strange. You see, all my life, I had made sure I flocked with beautiful woman. My selection of a wife can attest to that. If you are not fine, naturally or aesthetically, I had nothing to do with you as a woman. It was that simple, and it helped me build focus. So, I naturally related with plain women from a distance, and hardly knew whatever they were up to with their lives.

‘I’m sorry. Please, who are you?’ I found myself asking with a whole lot of respect. It was my turn to squint and to be confused, and then, I started to take in her total appearance. Well, she was smartly dressed, but without the heels. She had a little bit of the curves, lovely eyes, plain but not as bad as I thought… I was well on my way when I heard her voice inside my head.

‘You know, I could really do without arrogance on this job. So, are you in or out?’ she offered with a bit of impatience.

‘Pardon…?’ I began to panic. The lady had just threatened my position.

‘My job is to work with you on your client base. I research and consult for you while you put the results into practice. So, are you in or out?’ she replied with so much pity for me.

‘Just a moment’ I blurted out and sped of into my director’s office. He had to at least, put me through his reason for such humiliation.

‘Excuse me sir, who’s that girl in my office… erm, Zara?’ I began.

‘The management consultant?’ he asked.

‘I should think so…’ I started to explain, but he cut me short.

‘Oh, take your work seriously with that woman. We hope to bring in more clients through her influence, and hopefully, renew her contract…’ he responded dismissively. And as he spoke, I began to feel so much pity for myself. I imagined being the butt joke of my friends, who would tease me for finally submitting to a plain woman. How did she even manage to attain such level in her career? She looked so young, and nothing particularly attractive.

‘A minute more, and you’d have not seen me here again’  she started as I opened the door to my office.

‘Please, could you at least beef up your appearance for our subsequent meetings?’ I pleaded. At least, my reputation with my friends could be saved, I thought to myself.

‘I’d send you a mail of tomorrow’s details’ she smiled and walked out.

‘And one extra thing…  you could tag along a couple of your “flamboyant” female staff that will feed your lust, so that I can do my job in peace… pervert!’ she laughed at the door as she left.

I couldn’t even take offense at the insult. She rather drew so much admiration and respect from me.

And now that I think of it. I think this is what is missing from all that I have. This is what I wish my wife could have: such a great feminine confidence.

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Author: dnddyon

My Igbo name can be literally translated as "child is delicious". For a deeper meaning, one could say that "having a child/a heir is wonderful/great". With this perspective, this blog strives to live. Having access to this blog should be a beautiful thing. I bring you random stories, fiction and real, from a very rewarding sound perspective. You should love to be here.

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