When I posted the letter from Dorcas* yesterday morning I had no idea what I was starting. I have been receiving letters from people claiming to be Doris the whole day. Here is another one…
I am a very angry woman. Rights now my weave is on the floor because of you. Before we go any further, who is this woman? Please explain it to me who she is. I am mad I tell you. I know I have cheated on you twice before, but you forgave me and we moved on. You said you loved me and you looked to the future with our two kids. The 26 years of marriage is a lie now. They were all lies. Smh.
I knew something was up the moment you moved to WordPress. Long gone are the TypePad days when you could exhaust the entire letter exalting my flawless glamor. These days you just mention it in the first sentence then you go ahead to describe the floozies you had good times with. You are not the man I married any more. When you are not stealing novels, you are fighting in bars. When you are not fighting in bars, you are having paying for sex in Sabina Joy. Instead of minding your business in a matatu, you are busy reading other people’s texts and staring at lady parts. What is with all these matatu business, I thought you told me you were about to buy a car? What kind of husband are you?
I really miss the simple diary you used to write every day. It kept me warm, knowing that I am in your mind wherever you are. Where are you today? Italy? France? Venezuela? Or you are still in your all white party in Hawaii? Never mind. You used to start all of them with ‘dear doris’. These days you are using the sophisticated words to replace mine (WTH is enchantment?). Are they really addressed to me or it is those padded yellow yellows she was referring to?
So how long have you been with that woman (who calls a child dorcas anyway)? Charity begins with the neighbours across the road I guess. I must admit that is very smart. I know you were brusquely in her doorstep telling her that it has been a typo all along. She was too blond to realize that she is not the one. This makes me suspect that there are many more. Hell, you even go for blind dates these days. Shame on you. You are sharing lady parts with 15 year olds. Shame.
I shall move on. Though my love for you is unfathomable, I shall move on. I will discard all those sundresses that you like. I shall resort to flat shoes and throw away those black heels with red soles. I was doing it for you yet you are busy looking elsewhere. Go ahead and chase them. When you fall, you shall find a hard cold floor. We shall not be around. I’d rather marry the maid, she has refused to leave me and the kids alone after all.
The kids say hi. Let’s keep them out of this.