A kick in the balls!

“You kicked him in the balls!!? Ouch!”

“Yea I did! I don’t even know where I got the courage to but one moment he was grabbing me by the neck, next moment he was on the ground writhing in pain”

“Daaamn girl! That was something. If we had more girls like you there’d be a lot less mugging on our streets”

“Ha ha ha! Probably.”

This must have been our third or fourth date I’m not sure. Kanji is a conversationalist, and not the gibberish type, I’m talking quality conversation. The kind that leaves you feeling good about the two hours spent with her. Not to mention how fast time passes whenever I talk to her.

That’s not all. Kanji is one kick-in-the-crotch painfully focused girl. She is a part time model, is studying for her masters, has a full time job as a research analyst and takes private classes in Spanish. She plans to do her PhD in Barcelona, Spain.

Let me admit this; I’m a chauvinist. I have been kicked in the holy ground a couple of times for making demeaning remarks about the fairer gender. Other than my juniors at work, the only other people who serve the purpose of making me feel superior are my dating partners. In my dictionary, the word ‘Female’ is synonymous to ‘Blonde’.

Not Kanji. This Girl is smart. Why I’m still seeing her I don’t know.

Last week I was busy stalking my friends on Facebook when the chat box popped up, with a message from someone seeking to begin a conversation. I’m not one to start engaging in chats on Facebook, something my friends have grumbled about more than once. For some reason I find it cheap and pathetic. If you and I haven’t spoken in months, I’d hate it if the next point of contact between us is via a Facebook message or chat. In an age where 10 bob a day gets you unlimited sms, it would be preferable if your attempts at communication skewed more towards the personal kind a.k.a text messaging. But that’s just me.

Normally I would just close the chat box without a second thought and move on with the stalking, but this was different. It was Cathy.

I’m told that everyone has that one Ex whose memory is forever cast in our memory. He/She becomes the yardstick by which all future mates are measured against. When you are down, it’s the memory of him/her that lifts your spirits. When you feel lonely, he/she is the one person you would wish to be there for you at that precise moment. Well, that’s Cathy for me.

So you could understand why the conversation below ensued.

“Hi Cathy.”

“Howz u?”

“I’m good, you?”

“Ok I guess. Just life challenges you know”

“I know. That’s life.”

“Yeah, it’s just sometimes it gets really hard”

“Kwani Watsup?”

“Ah, just personal stuff, relationships etc. I’ll give you details when we meet”

“It’s been a while Cathy. I doubt we will be meeting soon.”

“I’ll come see you.”

This sounds like an ok conversation, except that Cathy and I haven’t seen eye to eye for 3 years, and she happens to be at least 700 kilometers away. When Cathy and I were still an item such crazy stunts were not uncommon. Once, we eloped for a week to Mombasa and somehow survived with 500 bob between us.

Anyway, she abruptly went offline and I haven’t heard from her since. I don’t have her number so following up isn’t an option. Frankly I don’t want to. She inspires certain feelings inside me which aren’t so healthy to my current relationships. We might seem to fit like a glove on a hand, but that’s the problem precisely. We fit too well that it always brings complications.

My MD decided to bring in a consultant to help out with our most recent project. It’s bigger than anything we’ve done before, we are all apt but rather inexperienced to handle such a daunting task, or so the Boss thinks. Now, given that I am the project manager on this particular one, you can imagine what the ‘consultant’ does to my ego.

Mary however isn’t just any consultant. She’s a respected professional in the industry; frankly I look up to her in many ways. She graces the covers of industry magazines, and has even been in the Top 40 Under 40 list on two occasions. She is my age mate. She is gorgeous. She is classy. Her dress code is decent but not conservative at all. For the next four weeks, she will be sitting right across from me.

I’m I intimidated? Of course! I’m I attracted to her? Please come slowly. There’s something about hot ambitious ladies that just freaks the devil’s crib out of me. I’m yet to figure out how to deal with these new entrants in my life.

But enough about me; how are you?

Photo credit: Sucker

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