"Maybe Next Lifetime...."

Gawd, I hope the man in this picture never finds out about this blog!! I'll never be able to look him in the face again if he does. And that would be a shame, because this Ghanaian journalist named Robert is still just as hot as he was 7 years ago when I met him, while leading that first journalism workshop in Accra.

So not only was I nervous and uptight about whether I knew what the hell I was talking about back in 2003, but there sat Robert in the front row staring intently at me, looking like a taller, vastly more fine version of Wesley Snipes. He was a TV reporter with a popular program about HIV and AIDS back then. And his voice. HIS VOICE!!! It was deep, and mellifluous. And I don't use the word "mellifluous"very often, so it probably has something to do with the fact that whenever he spoke, I wanted to take my clothes off.

You need a really dramatic word to describe that kind of uncontrollable autonomic response.

Anyway, I somehow managed to keep my cool during that week in Accra, because I figured I'd never see Robert again, and I didn't want to end my first journey to Africa by earning a rep as an American 'ho. So just imagine how nervous I was when he responded to my recent pre-Accra email by saying how happy he'd be to see me again. Dude had no way of knowing how happy I would be.

Before he showed up in the lobby of the Novotel, I was really hoping he'd shrunk, or developed a potbelly. He hadn't. And his voice. HIS VOICE!!! I guess it's the same phenomenon with just about any hot man with a foreign accent. When they say your name, it sounds like nothing you've ever heard before, and you just want to keep on hearing it. Over and over and over.....

Okay, I'm getting off track. To complicate matters, Robert showed up with a lovely present for me, a vivid print shirt. It made me remember that he had been the one to organize my goodbye party back in 2003, and that he made the formal presentation of my very first strip of Kente cloth and a little Africa plaque, as a group thanks for my efforts. I have no idea where those gifts are, but I DO have pictures of them somewhere in the stuff I brought to Kenya.

Just like Stella, Robert wants to go back for another degree soon, perhaps law or public health. And here's the thing...he's 38 years old, and single. Using my finely-honed journalistic skills, I weaseled it out of him that he'd been in a 'traditional marriage" type relationship for some years, but that's over now. (In Kenya, they call them "customary marriages" or "come-we-stay" arrangements. In family and community circles, they're considered legitimate, but they don't have as many legal protections. In America, we just call it getting the milk for free.)

For some reason, Robert and I spent a couple hours talking about relationships. To hear him tell it, he'll be married before he's 40, because he's finally ready to make that serious commitment. I'm very proud that I was able to resist inviting him back to my room to explore the nuances of his plan. But when I look at this picture, I can't help thinking we'd make a great-looking couple......

.....in a parallel universe where a 38-year-old African man would be caught dead marrying a 48-year-old non-African woman who didn't have a hell of a lot of money and social or political connections, as well as some powerful juju to revive her dried up ovaries.

"Maybe next lifetime...."