I first met her at a wedding. She was a groomslady – the only lady in the lineup of groomsmen. I asked her how that felt, moreover, if the bride felt offended that her soon-to-be husband had placed his girl-bestfriend in the grooms’ line-up. She said that the bride was okay with the decision. She would have had to be okay, because it wasn’t an everyday thing to see a groomslady in a wedding line-up.
The guests at the church ceremony thought it hilarious seeing a groomslady walking down the aisle with a bridesmaid. In fact, the groom hadn’t even told his parents of this fact; it was a shock to them too. His parents are pastors. So you can imagine the brawl that they would have made if they knew.
I met her again at another wedding; this time at the bridesmaid-she-had-walked-down-the-aisle-with’s wedding. She was gorgeous, the new bride. Frescia, was the same as I had recalled; majestic, with masculine energy and strong. Think of a sports lady, like Serena Williams.
She had on a pink pretty dress with a furry sweater that didn’t quite match the dress. But it looked like her go-to sweater. You know, the one she’d put on immediately she felt a cold vibe come her way. Her brown sandals were girly; they looked like she’d got them from Woolworths. And I found it interesting the contradiction between the visualization of strength that I saw in her and the fact that she was softly dressed in pink with brown girly-sandals.
I asked her about her dating life. It was complicated, as I had expected her to say. She started talking about this guy who resides in New York and that they’d been chatting over Skype for a while now. Not long after, she’d blocked him. I found it a bit irrational that she’d just block him out of the blue.
“Why’d you block him, what did he do?”
“We had an altercation. I got angry, and I blocked him, straight up for 1 whole week.”
“I understand ignoring someone, but blocking them? I mean if I block someone it means I never want to hear from them ever again…”
“Well, I will unblock him, but for now, meh.”
And just like that she abruptly ended up talking about him. I never even got a name from her, nothing. So we sat there in silence as we watched the cake getting cut by the bridal party.
“You know I have a very short fuse,” she opened up again.
“Okay…” I listened, looking at the cake that was now doing its rounds.
“I get angry really quickly, like something small is enough to get me tripping over every single detail. That’s why I blocked him.”
Then one of the ushers getting cake around interrupted our conversation, or rather, her opening up to me, and Frescia went back to her normal self. The slight wall space that she had let down with me went straight back up and she didn’t look like she was going to open up to anything again. I had a slight inclination that she never really talked about her feelings that she was used to bottling them up, that this was new to her.
I felt sad for her. She would be turning 30 this year, the big 3-0. And yet she’d still be single. She looked like it bothered her, that her close friends were all getting married and yet here she was, not being able to communicate with the man she likes and instead, blocks him from her.
She has a really warm smile though. The smile of someone who’s always busy being there for others and yet no one is ever really there for her; because they can tell that she’s strong and that she doesn’t really need anyone. What they don’t realize is that that’s her deepest desire – for someone to show up for her for once.