Dear Random Woman,
How are you? Sorry, never mind. I wouldn’t care. The reason I am writing this is to tell you how uncomfortable I was, sitting next to you. I also want to apologize in advance because one way or another you will know you were the reason I capped my highlighter, closed my book (The Science of Self Realization), put it down, and opened Evernote on my device to write this down. At this point, I don’t know you, and if we meet at some point in future, you are free to slap me silly, and know that I did it for the best. I have seen many cleavages as per my current page in life. Surely, you did not have to wear that short dress whereby when you sat down, I could feel my leg uncomfortably running through you bare skin of your yellow – yellow thighs. I saw that too. For the record I am not a pervert. Or maybe I am… However, not for your type. I don’t even know… I am on the path to self realization as you probably noted while you peeped at my read earlier. Yes, I don’t know me at times. You see, I was minding my own business. When you asked me to hold your bag I accidentally saw the slightly fuzzy form of what is supposed to be among the most beautiful creations. A creation meant to be respected. A creation that nursed us all when we were infants. Sustainer of early life. But my! Did you have to disrespect them that much as to expose them in the way they were. And to think that I would spend the whole journey trying to look at them. Noo!!! Woman… No!
I was not interested in the least. Thank God, I did not start a conversation because then you would have been in a real uncomfortable position. I could see and feel the heat and color flush on your face, how you felt like killing the driver when he told you the cops at the Kutus – Kerugoya Junction will charge you for not having a seat belt. Too bad it had to cut through what you thought was a well-packaged affair. I wanted to look but had I looked, I would have alighted at Kagio and picked another Matatu. However, it is not the cleavage I have a problem with. For the record, I have a Sister – Sisters. Sisters, who know my sentiments regarding modes of dressing. Female modes of dressing. Respect is the key word. I am poor at telling how good looking you are or how fitting the situation is to your dress code. But if I can respect you when I meet you, for me, you are well dressed. Then we can go to the rest.
Showing the cleavage is not a problem. Whatever suits your knife and fork. Now to think of me as the guy who would be looking at your items from Kerugoya to Nairobi was just wrong!!!! Seated there it felt like I was harassing you. Like, I was on a journey of cleavage discovery. If you wanted them seen, you could have let them free and not acted as if I wanted to borrow them. Or what felt like I was about to grab them. These past few months in the sky have upgraded my periphery vision and I could see you trying to check whether it’s the book I am reading or it’s your cleavage I am studying. No. My eyesight is good and very good for that matter. However, I did not use it to check your cleavage out. I used to give you that confirmation that I was not interested with them. Remember how you tried to pull up that dress. Wondering whether to pull it down to cover your thighs or use it to prevent your chattels from bad weather, which was my prying eyes. You then decided to use your left hand to cover your right ~. Woman!!! We are at the front. Unfortunately, the middle seat is much higher than your seat. People back there are thinking I am checking you out. Therefore, I decided to clean my name. I was not looking at your cleavage!!! The fuzzy bit was an accidental glance. If I had a Kikoy with me or even a hoodie, I would have given it to you and asked for it once we alight at Tearoom. So next time, dress well when travelling. I was sure if we had hit one of the potholes near Sagana proper like a Supreme Shuttle driver I know, nothing would have kept them in place. Cover the engine if you do not intend to fly and in case you are required to fly under short notice that has never been a problem, you will figure something out.
Goodbye for now. Sorry, goodbye for ever I don’t look forward to ever meeting you under such circumstances ever again. You are a potential tiny percentage of the other part of the untold side of a sexual offence waiting to happen. You leave me wondering whether to respect you or slap myself for even considering it. For the record, I would have told you, ‘you are indecently dressed for a journey that long’, but from the looks of your face and size, you would have beaten me silly… I would not want to be the main character to an audience of 12 in a mobile theater.