Intimacy, Purity, and Choosing Love Over Desire.

 It was a Saturday mid-morning, the kind where time seems to drag because you’re waiting for something, or in this case, someone, special. We had already planned to meet after work, both leaving at 1:00 p.m. so we could finally spend the afternoon together.

The hours passed quickly, but the last few minutes felt like forever. By 1:00, we were calling each other at short intervals, our voices betraying how much we longed to meet. The thought of seeing each other in just a few minutes still felt too far away.

When she finally arrived at our local stage, the wait melted away in a long, warm hug. We grabbed a few snacks on the way, ice cream, wafers, and a cream roll, then hopped on a boda straight to my place.

At home, my dad was somewhere around giving instructions to workers, but we didn’t even pause to look for him. One of the workers greeted us as we slipped in, and before long we were excusing ourselves with the excuse of “putting down our bags.”

The bags barely touched the floor before we were on each other again, hugs that lingered, kisses that sparked into laughter, and then hugs once more. At one point, I pulled back, sat down, and she rushed to sit on my lap. That’s when the tension thickened. Gentle touches, kisses, and cuddles filled the room, and for a while the world outside no longer mattered.

The atmosphere was so charged we actually had to call a two-second time-out, just to catch our breath. I remember whispering, half laughing, half serious: “I’m fighting a very strong desire to undress you right now.” We both knew the temptation was real. But we also knew why we were holding back.

We had promised each other purity. And though our bodies longed for more, our hearts held us steady. That decision gave the moment a different kind of sweetness, intimacy without regret.

Hours slipped by unnoticed. We never made it to the butchery as we had planned because neither of us wanted to leave the room. Our snacks became our only meal of the day, but neither of us minded. She was supposed to leave early, around 6:00, yet we stretched the time. She left at 7:00 instead, and by the time she got home at 8:30, she was in trouble for being late.

Before she left, we laughed about how badly blue balls were going to hit me later, honesty mixed with humor, the kind only two people deeply in love can share. Still, there was no sense of conviction or guilt. We both knew we loved each other too much for this to be wrong.

I walked her to the stage, put her on a matatu, and took a boda back home. Even after parting, we couldn’t stop reaching for each other. We called at least three times while she was still on the road.

Later, she told me how her mother reacted to her lateness, and I skipped church the next day, knowing that if we met, the topic would surely come up.

Looking back, that Saturday wasn’t about what we didn’t do. It was about what we chose, closeness without crossing the line. Love, as we lived it that day, wasn’t about surrendering to every desire but about cherishing the tension, the laughter, the snacks, the time stolen from the world. And though temptation was real, love felt stronger.