Bad Boy Meets Church Girl – Part 2

Fourth Sunday was a prowling Sunday.

I have zero recollection of what the pastor shouted about on that day, and my wandering eye was met several times by frowns from other worshipers. Tim was helping with the search. Where was this girl?

Then I felt it. At the recesses of my manscience I felt it. She was nearby, close enough for me to see her, probably even touch her, but man I just couldn’t find her! I nudged Tim and told him to look closer, much closer.

Then I realized it. In my efforts at being a subtle hunter, I had totally forgotten to look right behind me. She had to be there. But how would I turn my head all the way round without my intentions being embarrassingly betrayed? I didn’t have to wait too long for an answer. The pastor currently proclaiming something or the other, while pacing back and forth on the podium, stopped on his tracks, and ordered all of us to stand up and greet our neighbors. I jumped up, probably a little too enthusiastically. To cover my tracks, I must have greeted at least seven people on my pew before I turned round to extend the blessings to my fellow Christians on the row behind. Brothers and Sisters I was right. She wasn’t ushering today. She was another worshipper just like me. A strikingly stunning, radiant and oh-Jesus-have-mercy sexy girl who seemed absolutely oblivious of the effect she had on the male universe.

It was time to invoke the lingering hand shake. This time she would have to notice my smile. This time she would look into my eyes and God save my soul if I did not manage get a response from her.

I didn’t.

Her smile was cordial, pretty much the same smile she was giving the rest of the congregation. She looked into my eyes but only for a split second before moving on to her next target. With no eye contact, a lingering hand shake would have been a tad awkward so I grudgingly let go. The old lady next to her, whose hand was fervently awaiting an exchange of blessings with me, would have to find another worshiper as I was done with greetings for the day.

I had to suffer the torment of utter impotence for the remainder of that service. Meanwhile I strategized and exchanged telepathic glances with Tim.

Tim: So what do you think bro?

Lawrence: Can’t do much in here. Have to wait until end of service.

Tim: And then what?

Lawrence: Not sure, but I will find a way.

Tim: You have great faith man. Pastor James would be proud.

Lawrence: When you live my life, faith, good looks and charm is all you have.

Tim: I feel you. All the best.

Lawrence: Thanks.

Two cruel hours followed and eventually the service was over. I remained sitted, deep in meditation on the risk I was just about to undertake. The nice old lady whose handshake I had just ignored was obviously someone very close to this girl. Judging from how frail she looked, my guess was that she was the girl’s grandmother. The sad fact was that the girl was happily holding the old lady’s hand, and it was clear she would not be letting go of that hand until they reached their destination.

I was not about to wait another week to officially meet this girl. It was time.

“Excuse me, uhm, I’m Sorry. I think Mum dropped this”

“Uh, I…I don’t think so. Mum is this yours?”

“What? No!”

“Oh, I found it right where you were sitted, I assumed it belonged to you”

“Sorry, it’s not ours but thanks”

Finally I got the smile I had been aching for!!

“It’s alright. Where do we take lost and found items? Uhm, I am new at the Church”

“Oh, welcome to our Church!” That was Granma.

“Thank you Mum. I feel blessed”

“Just go back in through the main door, on your left you will see a big basket, just drop it there”

“Thanks. I am sorry to disturb you Mum, have a blessed day”

“No problem Son. God bless you”

“You too. And thank you”

I looked at the girl when saying that last line; slowly, all I needed was three seconds of eye contact. And I got it.

“You are welcome”

And there was the smile again, and I could have sworn a slight blush too!!

The scarf belonged to Christine, Tim’s Wife. She wasn’t particularly amused by the thought of her scarf being brought into my Philandering ways, but then again she silently hopes that one day I meet a girl who will steal my heart, and put an end to the shenanigans. If the Scarf would help, she was in. Christine has a good heart.

In my line of work, we call that ‘an entrance’. Fifth Sunday would be ‘a foot in’.

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Lawrence is the guy next door; A young, aspirational Kenyan gentleman; But most of all, a romantic soul in search of true love.

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