You know the unicorn. That guy declared unattainable. The one you drool over from a mile away, knowing he would never look your way. My unicorn came in the form of a tall yellow bone, with dreadlocks and eyes like a blasian baby. He was beautiful. He even had the LL Cool-J lips licking thing down. Before I continue, let me first state that when I first saw him, I did not drool. Rather, I was in the company of droolers. Back then, I was so uptight you’d swear I had a wooden spoon up my ass, but that’s not the point. Mr Unicorn (let’s call him Mr U) was at my high school, exactly three years ahead of me. He had some drama behind him by the time I got there in the 9th grade. The story was, Girl A liked him, but he went for her friend, causing a rift between the two girls. Then he cheated on the friend with an acquaintance of Girl A. However, that still didn’t stop Girl A from unabashedly and repeatedly drooling over him.
My drool-fest only started in my second year of University. My best friend and I were people-watching, which honestly should’ve been part of the Olympics because we were champions at it. Over-time, we caught the attention of some cool guys. They weren’t just cool on campus, nope, they were cool all over town. You know, the kind of guys who get a rep in high school and carry it out to college, becoming rap artists and social media celebrities. Full disclosure, they were more interested in my sexy, pear-shaped, dark chocolate skin best friend - a.k.a a whole meal; and I was the piece of garnish you get whether you want it or not.
One day, we were joined at our lookout spot by the cool guys. Talking, laughing, listening to music, some of them smoking. It was the first time in my life I felt cool…by association. Amid our chill session, like the sun breaking through on a cloudy day, Mr U walks up to the guys and greets them. He turns to us briefly, flashes a sexy that only lifted one corner of his mouth, and says, “Hi, ladies,” then carries on with his boys. The next thing I felt was my BFF pinching the black of my skin. Seriously, she left an ashy spot on my arm and I had to scratch in my bag for some Vaseline. We watched in amazement as the unicorn spoke and laughed so casually with the guys. He had cut his dreads sometime in the years since high school and joined a gym. He was no longer the cute boy from school, no, he was the sexy guy on campus.
After he left, after throwing another brief wave at us - in which we answered we a movie-style, dreamy, “byyyeeee” - my friend finally accepted the guys’ invitation to go out at the weekend. They caught her in a dreamy mood, and I was happy to be included. Sure enough, when we were alone, we openly, and disgustingly, discussed how sexy Mr U was. When I mentioned that I knew him from high school, we logged into Facebook and did some proper stalking on his profile – the true use of social media.
The weekend came and BFF and I were out on the town in very similar outfits. It was cold as hell, so we were both clad in thick black stalkings, ankle boots and tight wool dresses (mine grey, hers black). Just the two of us, because that’s all we ever needed. After about an hour into our pre-part at a bar, BFF got a call from one of the guys to say they had arrived and wanted to hook up with us; so, we headed to join them. As BFF and I were about to cross the road when we heard one of the guys shout BFF’s name. He was standing outside another bar, but he was not alone. Mr U was there. As soon as we spotted him, a truck, a damn truck, stopped right in front of us. What a truck was doing at that particular spot in town in the middle of the night, at the weekend, I will never know. That truck, however, gave us two minutes to do a girly squirm and shout “OMG” while we pinched each other repeatedly – I refused to be the only ashy one this time. We could not believe it!
The truck drove off and there he was, clad in black jeans and a leather jacket, hands in his pocket, looking all kinds of sexy. We crossed the road like we were floating on air and greeted the guys on the other side. When he came in to hug me, I savoured that second like my funds had depleted and it was my last drink for the night. We entered the bar and found a table, my first source of embarrassment. The stools were too high for my little legs, my little legs in a tight dress. I tried to gracefully climb onto the chair but ended up having to hop and adjust three times before I could sit comfortably. Then, came part two of my embarrassment. For a second, I was overjoyed that Mr U was seated right next to me, but only for a second, because I then realized that I was right at the corner and would have to hang my head forward the whole night to form part of the rectangular table conversation. I’m an introvert, people, so I’m already not trying to make conversation in general, now I had to put in the extra effort. I was left looking at the side of his beautiful head, while BFF got the full view of his face. So, what did I do? I did what any sane person in my position would do, drown myself in alcohol, of course. It was a bad idea, but it sure felt great when Mr U put his hand on my knee and leaned in close enough to whisper, “Are you okay?” before I hopped off the stool and made a beeline for the restrooms.
When the night was over, Mr U drove some of us to one of the guys’ apartment – BFF and I squished with two others in the back seat – for a continuance of the night. By the time we got there, I was coming down off my alcohol high and excruciatingly aware of how awkward I had been the entire night. We got to the apartment and they cracked open a bottle of J&B, lit a blunt, turned on some smooth R&B and one guy fell asleep on the floor almost immediately. I envied him. The conversation was around HipHop artists and rap music, of which I could not contribute. I watched Mr U, eyes half-closed, glass dangling on his fingertips, a satisfied smile on his face. I wanted to be the glass. After a short while, just before the sun came up, the guys drove us home.
A week later was my birthday, so a bunch of us had a braai at a friend’s house. The meat was burning. Drinks were flowing. The cake was caking. It was my kind of evening: indoors, safe, drunk with the people I love, and cake. Must have cake. The guys from the previous weekend decided they would stop by, uninvited, accompanied by Mr U. My heart leapt when I saw him walk in, once again dressed in all black. He was like a walking fairy-tale. Like all fairy tales, a tragedy was inevitable. All the guys wanted to watch soccer. I sat on that couch, trying to seem interested, but I couldn’t get past the question burning in my mind: “Why would anyone watch this, let alone play it?” Did I mention that BFF is a huge soccer fan? She was having the time of her life as they all screamed at the TV screen. I left her and Mr U (oh, and the other guys) on the couch and joined the anti-soccer party that was going down in the kitchen. P.S. This is why you need ‘other’ friends.
I had given up on ever catching his attention. When the kitchen party got too much (I had somehow ended up dancing on the counter and one of my friends was grinding with the fridge), I made my way down the hall to use the bathroom. When I unlocked the door to exit, Mr U pushed me back inside and locked us both in there. He finally said the words I had been waiting for: I’ve been watching you all night. Oh, my Gina! Before I knew it, he had lifted me onto the counter and was kissing me all over. We were knocking off people’s toothbrushes and squeezing face creams in the throes of passion. When he managed to get my top off, something clicked in me and I asked if he had protection. He said that he didn’t, so, as a responsible girl, I told him to stop; and, as a horny guy, he whipped out his dick and asked me to give him head. I didn’t, mainly because I had only slept with one guy, only once, at that time. I had no experience with giving head and I would be damned if I became the girl who bit off the Unicorn’s beautiful member. I left him hanging in the bathroom and walked out.
I know what you’re thinking: you got the unicorn! Of course, you give him head. You lost your chance!! I too thought I had lost my chance until he sent me a friend request on Facebook and an inbox asking to organize a rendezvous at his place. It was the beginning of a beautiful fling. He was amazing in bed! We hardly had anything to talk about, but he fed me and fucked me, and I was ecstatic for a glorious four months. A week after the last time I saw him, his status changed to ‘In a relationship’ and I, being the respectful girl that I was back then, never saw him again.
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