The Lily Review » Relationships

My Smelly Princess [Part 3]

lawrence — Wed, 01 Sep 2010 05:00:58 +0000

Daisy is one insightful girl. It’s one of her most endearing qualities, and often times, her main source of headaches. How I forgot this little fact I still don’t know. Friday evenings would typically be either movie nights, game nights or a combination of both. It had always been an unfair arrangement since we would both retire at the wee hours of the morning yet I had to report to work on Saturdays, while she didn’t. I really didn’t mind it though.

For a whole week, I had been trying to figure out the best way to tell my girlfriend, who was mad at me half the time, that another girl, who happened to be a million times prettier than her, had come to my house, used our(my) shower, dressed up in her clothes, including that red top that she had asked about at least thrice so far, and now wanted me to meet up with her the next week to catch up, you know, like old friends. There was no easy way in sight, but I was determined to find it.

Come Friday, and there were, cuddled on the Sofa watching a movie whose title escapes my memory. “Sweetie, I need to ask you something” she announced in the middle of some romantic scene. She never entertained interruptions while a movie was on, a habit that happens to be a major weakness of mine.

“Yeah, of course babe” My nerves warned me that this wasn’t good.

“Are you cheating on me?” I almost choked on the peanut in my mouth.

“What!?”

“I asked, are you cheating on me?” she repeated calmly, making no effort to pull away. That peanut was now painfully finding its way down my esophagus.

“Uhm, I’m sorry but where is that coming from?” The romantic scene gave way to some boring dialogue, which I wasn’t listening to or watching anymore.

“It’s simple really. For almost a week, we haven’t had a fight, you have been unusually polite, you have been cleaning your dishes, and you just spent 45 minutes without interrupting the movie.”

I hated how calm she would become when we were about to start a fight. It always got me worked up even more. Today was different though. I had no strong case to support my stubbornness. Plus she was still in my arms, staring at the Television as if she had just made a passing comment.

I made an attempt at mock laughter.

“Have you thought that maybe I’m just trying to become a better boyfriend?” Even I wasn’t convinced by that. I threw in a peck on her neck to support my feeble defense.

“Yes I have. That’s not it, and you know it. So let me ask again…”

“I got it the first time Daisy. The answer is an offended No. I’m not cheating on you”

“Ok. So what is it then?” She hit pause on the remote, and disengaged herself from the confines of my arms. Now she was eyeing me straight on, awaiting her answer.

“Frankly, I don’t like the tone of your voice. And the fact that you would baselessly accuse me…” My pride was at work.

“Damn it Lawrence! I know you too well. You are hiding something from me”

“Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think Sweetie. Maybe you are in one of your moods again and you just need someone to vent it out on. Maybe you are the one cheating on me and are now pulling some reverse psychology stunt!!”

“Excuse Me!!?” I could see that last statement hurt her. I cursed myself a little bit for it. Daisy would never cheat on me. But I wasn’t giving in to her condescension.

“I mean, we are peacefully watching T.V, and all of a sudden…”

“So you won’t tell me what it is?” She had switched to the firm tone. This fight was about to get ugly.

“Who the hell do you think you are Daisy? Pointing accusing fingers and issuing ultimatums…” As always, I stood up waving my arms in the air in mock frustration. She never stood up.

“Lawrence if I think something is wrong…”

“If you think something is wrong, find a more respectful way to raise it!!!!”

“And what did I do that was so disrespectful? I simply asked you a question…don’t be such a child Lawrence!”

That was it. She had crossed my path.

“Oh, so what are you now, my Mum?? ”

Fifteen minutes later, we were still at it. I was still standing, she was still sitting. The fight had spread its wings to cover topics I wouldn’t have thought of before. A battle of wits is what it had come down to. Until I announced my exit.

“F*** you Daisy?? F*** you and your self righteousness!!I’m out of here!”

“No!! Don’t bother, it’s your house sweetheart, I’ll go!” This was new, but I didn’t realize it at the heat of
the moment.

“Good! Finally we know who owns this house!”

She disappeared into the bedroom, came out ten seconds later with her hand bag and one of her fifty something pairs of shoes and slammed the door behind her.

That weekend passed without a single phone call between us. Come Sunday evening, and Tim calls me up.

“Dude, are you cheating on Daisy?” Apparently Daisy had called him to ask if he knew what was up with me, but I had kept him in the dark about Crystal as well, so he wasn’t of much help to her.

“Oh, so now the whole world has branded me a cheating moron?” I always retreat to sarcasm when I feel cornered.

“No, not the whole world dude. Just Daisy. And you need to fix this before it’s too late” Tim was somehow always right about stuff. He and Daisy had always made such a good team that I often wondered what she was doing with me. I decided to spill out the Crystal saga to him.

“Ha ha ha!! This is so hilarious man!” Tim can be such a punk sometimes.

“It’s not a laughing matter bro. Daisy would kill me if she found out about this.”

“Did you seriously give out her clothes? You are such an fala! Then you pick a fight with her??…”

“She started it! And you are not helping Tim!”

“Ok, here’s the deal bro. Call Daisy and apologize for being an idiot, and then tell her everything, except may be that part about giving out her clothes. Oh, then delete Crystal’s number and no meeting with her next week!”

“That sounds great, except for one thing Tim”

“A ha…”

“Do you remember Marie?”

There was a long pause before Tim finally whispered a stifled “Oh Yes!”

I don’t even know where to start about Marie. Tim often said that if he was about to die and he was granted one last wish, his wish would be to have one last glance at Marie. About a year back, on a boys’ weekend out in Mombasa, we stumbled upon sweet Marie as she strolled alone on the beach. Simply put, she revived my childhood beliefs about the existence of mermaids. Tim had never gotten over her but that’s a story for another day.

There was another long nostalgic hiatus before Tim finally said, “You better have a good reason for mentioning her name man!” I had touched a really soft spot.

“Crystal is like three Maries put together after a very refreshing swim.”

“Oh boy! And you never told me about her? Our friendship is hanging on thin ice bro. Tread carefully.”

“Chill man, I was confused and had tried to forget about Crystal until that night last week. And here is another problem.”

“Ehem”

“I just happen to be her knight in shining armor. It’s a straight pass bro!!”

“That’s the dream dude.”

“I know Tim. Well? Say something intelligent!”

“Ok, this is the point where you need to ask the million dollar question”

“How deep is my Love for Daisy?”

“Exactly.”

The last time Tim and I had this exchange was during the Marie fiasco. He came out alive and salvaged his relationship with Christine. It was now my turn.

“In two months time you’ll celebrate your one year anniversary with Daisy bro. You are so close. It pains me to say it, but you need to call Crystal and tell her you can’t meet her next week, or ever.”

“Damn you Tim! Alright, I’ll do it.”

I called Crystal. She took the news so well that I almost asked to meet her maybe one last time. Through
some miracle, I didn’t. Then I called Daisy, who calmly absorbed the tale like the angel she was.

After a heart wrenching ten-minute story telling on my part, and silence on her part, she finally said, “Wow. She must have been really pretty.”

“Well…” This was a trap. Tim had warned me about this many times. But this was Daisy. There was no
pretense with her.

“If you saw her, I swear sweetie you would strongly consider becoming a bi-sexual” I was getting carried
away.

“Would she be open to a threesome?”

“W-w-wha-what?????” All the saliva in my mouth instantly evaporated.

“Kidding! I’ll see you tomorrow. Get some sleep pumpkin!” Click. She was gone. Daisy was a heartless witch that I was so madly in Love with.

Daisy and I broke up before we could get to celebrate our one year anniversary. It had nothing to do with Crystal though. Trust me when I say this. In my adult life, I don’t think anything has left me as distraught as that breakup did. She was beautiful, intelligent, strong willed and sly as a fox.

How to lose a guy in 10 days

crystal — Wed, 18 Aug 2010 05:40:35 +0000

I love to read articles about understanding men, mostly from the home page on MSN. Every time I discover some delicious new fact about our Martians, I try it out on my better half. His response is always something like, ‘The trouble with women is that they take all their man-talk from other women.’

I always want to yell, ‘Men don’t talk about their feelings, so we have to discover them through other women … or gay friends!’ And somehow I don’t think man advice from a gay pal counts for much, because their thought process is painfully close to mine.

Unless of course he’s a guy-gay, in which case he probably knows nothing about women.

When the movie first came out in 2003, I swore I wouldn’t watch it. My swearing didn’t have any particular motive. It wasn’t about being macho and resisting chick flicks, even though I had just watched that traumatising movie with Renée Zellwegger. I don’t remember what it’s called, but it had a lot of pink, and one scene had a simulated split screen lap dance dry humping thing … which some people found funny, but I found incredibly sad.

The real reason I avoided 10 days is because from what I could see in the preview, I was definitely a 10 days kind of girl, and nobody needs that kind of affirmation.

The thing is, some girls do strange things. We get clingy and possessive in ways that the average man finds unattractive. We get jealous and start cat fights with no justification. Now, I know guys can fight over a woman and call it noble. Many wars have started this way. But when the fight is between two cats, well, that’s just stupid.

I bumped into the 10 days movie on UTV over the weekend, and I actually liked it. It was sweet. I liked that the girl made the first move, but the guy was convinced it was his idea. She left tickets in his house, yet he was sure he had convinced her to ask him to a ballgame. That was cool. I also like that in the end, the guy comes after the girl, not the other way around.

Best of all though, was that he fell for her despite her acting insane. Of course by the time he came after her, he knew the insanity was fake, which counts for something. Chances are he liked the sexy, sporty girl he watched ball with on their second date – before all the craziness began.

The way I see it, some girls can’t help being crazy. I’m speaking for myself here. I’m just wired that way. I’m clingy and jealous and sometimes insecure, and it’s enough to make a guy hang himself. I’d like to think my man loves the craziness in me, but I think he mostly puts up with it because of other … skills … that I may or may not possess.

Truth is though, that guys don’t know what they love in a woman. They aren’t like us who can analyse every affection and say we love his humour, or his height, or that look he gets in his eyes when you … cook. Guys love you because they love you, period. And once they say those words, assuming they’re not players who say it 20 times a day, then they’re pretty much sold.

A straight male friend told me that people are afraid to get what they want. You love man or woman, you get together with them, then instead of being happy and enjoying the experience, you start to think you’ll lose them and freak out. In his words, you start doing stuff like losing weight or gaining weight or learning a sport to make him love you more, or to make sure his love will never stop. According to him, at some point you just have to accept that this person loves you, period. Stop fighting and just live.

It’s a lot easier to say than it is to do. In my case, I have a man that loves me despite all my insanity, and I try to accept that. It just makes life easier.

Of course, it also helps to avoid doing crazy 10-day things like photo-shopping baby pictures or calling up his mother. Unless she calls you first.

So much for my happy ending…

crystal — Wed, 28 Jul 2010 05:00:19 +0000

I’m not a big believer in internet dating, even though I’ve met a lot of loved ones that way. The whole concept just seems contrived and artificial. Though, for the record, I’m not big on offline dating agencies either.

It’s a bit different when you’re not going online specifically to find a mate. I found the love of my life on a website for writers, and what started out as an exchange of style and prose ended up in a beautiful relationship.

This story – the one I’m about to tell – started with a pretty girl looking for a dance partner. The reason she couldn’t find one offline is that she’s tall. Really, really tall. Naomi Campbell in spiked heels is a dwarf to her kind of tall.

The girl’s name is Keisha, and she’s 6 foot 5.

Keisha wanted to find someone to dance with for … whatever reason. The online stories don’t say. She went on a site for tall people, and a guy named Wilco responded to her question with ‘I’m 7 feet tall, is that enough?’

Years later, the couple are happily married with two beautiful [and extremely tall] multicoloured babies.

What I like about this story is that it reminds me of My Love, who’s 6 foot 3 of pure vanilla. It also shows me that it’s possible to beat the odds if you just take a risk.

Lots of supermodels end up marrying short pudgy men because the tall guys are busy hooking up with tiny girls. [And also because short pudgy men have lots of money. It's all in the Napoleon complex.]

I like the story because Keisha took a chance and put herself out there, and by taking a risk, she nabbed herself one of the few guys outside NBA that’s taller than her.

I’m sure that their fairytale wasn’t without black spots. But the tabloids found nothing to hate on, so the couple must be very discreet, a key thing in any successful marriage.

I’m also sure they had to learn to blend, to get along, to curl into one another’s lives. They couldn’t be the perfect couple just because they’re both tall! They had to put together different backgrounds, lifestyles, families, in-laws, not to mention race issues. But somehow, they made it work.

And their happy ending became even happier when they made into the Guiness book of records. That comes with a cash prize, doesn’t it?

The morals of this story are many:

Take a chance. Put yourself out there. Let potential lovers see you. You don’t have to chase them, but you have a better shot if they don’t have to crawl under rocks to find you. After they’ve spotted you – then you can make them jump hoops and crawl rocks.
There’s someone for everyone who’s looking. Granted the male-female ratio is worrying, and in places like China, it’s the other way around. But the ratio is resolved by nuns, celibate priests, and polygamists. Plus, some hot singles just don’t want to be married. So for those who want one-spouse relationships, the men are out there. If a girl could find a mate at 6 foot 5, sembuse wewe?
It’s possible to find love on the internet. Keisha did, and so did I
Being tall is good for more than just the NBA.
You can find absolutely anything on the internet, and that’s not always a bad thing.

Back on the block … again

cazz — Mon, 26 Jul 2010 05:00:34 +0000

So … a few milliseconds past the 35 year mark and I find myself back in the social experiment more popularly known as dating. Senora I won’t get into the Mexican style soap opera drama of how just yet but suffice to say he lied, he cheated and when all was said and done I won the kids and dogs.

Now I must be honest about this … I could take the knocks when I was younger, slimmer, blissfully ignorant and full of that youthful exuberance you pine for as they, the young bloods, drift by while you stuff your face at one of the lovely food courts in our malls.

My blind date number 1 was somewhat (significantly) younger than me. I had refused to be sucked into the pleas for a date and knew I’d crossed the line when I used the ‘courting’ word instead of ‘hanging out’. Branded difficult and unrealistic by my single, dateless, 35+ girlfriends they planned an intervention. Amidst tears, shrill screams, stiff drinks and ‘you go girl’ cheers I called him and we made plans to meet up for a drink. So ….I finally find the bar with the hip name and after a mind numbing two hours here are my three tips if you opt to walk the dating plank again.

Lesson # 1: Location, location, location
For the 35+ you’ve done your time and really do not have to slum it in the name of a date. Honestly there are simply too many one week wonder bars and clubs in this town. Names change every other week and your bound to get confused so by all means necessary make sure you have at least one in the know under 25 year old extremely social confidante who can give you a wikipedia style heads up at the touch of a phone pad . Confidante is there to make sure you have all the nitty gritty on every club, bar, motel and player – you are not Indiana Jones on some adventure so rely on those who have been there, done that and are still doing it!

Lesson # 2: Persistence
I’m sorry but persistent guys are like that crazy itch at the back of your throat when you’re developing an ENT infection. You can’t quite scratch it, extremely irritating and takes forever to get rid of. Persistent men are not as flattering as romance books make out. It feels more like being stalked. I should have ignored my precious, misguided girlfriends and spent the evening sipping a lovely glass of wine and reading a book – my original plan. It’s great to get back on the horse but ladies do so in your own time and on your own terms.

Lesson # 3: Can pay, won’t pay
For those from that era … remember that Clint Eastwood squint daring the bad guy to draw his gun and shoot? So our date draws to an end and the waiter places the bill in the middle of the table. We look at each other, glance at the bill and … pause. The ‘stare’ starts… he buckles, nervous cough, picks up his drink and looks in every direction but mine! Ten minutes later I pick up the bill, pay and make to leave. Cheeky brat jumps up to escort me to the car. I am firm believer that a man should pay the bill. I am emancipated enough to state loud and clear “I can pay, I won’t pay” … you asked me out, finish what you started.

So ….more power to you. Live it up, laugh it off and by all means necessary date, date, date.

My Smelly Princess [Part 2]

lawrence — Wed, 21 Jul 2010 05:00:56 +0000

“You know what your problem is Lawrence!? You are too proud!!”

“Really!? Because the last time I checked you were a stubborn disrespectful bitch!!”

“What!!!? You have two seconds to get out of here or else I swear to Bazuzu!! One…Two..”

This was probably the tenth fight that Daisy and I were having in a span of just two months.

We were so close to clearing one year since we started going out (a first time feat for me). For some obscure reason, we were going through a very passionate phase of our relationship. The fights would start with something as petite as dirty dishes in the sink, escalate to how I treated her like a house maid, then to how I thought she needed to respect my house, and finally to my pride and her bitchiness. Then came the countdown, One…Two… and for fear of whoever Bazuzu was, I always walked out. I would spend some time with Masai the watchman, and two hours later take the stairs back to MY HOUSE, engage in a brief apology session, and some amazing make up action would ensue. I loved the make up, but I was worried that one day she would be the one walking out and I would have lost my Daisy forever. Tim (my ex roommate and close ill advisor) kept on about how we were about to cross over to the next Phase of our romance, and that we just needed to get past this.

“It’s like baptism by fire. The first real test on how true you are to each other” He said.

Tim has been in a relationship with the same girl since I first met him which is longer than I care to remember. As you can imagine, I was inclined to acquiesce to his teachings.

On this particular night, Masai was not in his den (very unusual). In the loneliness of the dark feeble wooden structure, I sat staring out into oblivion, surprisingly not thinking about the fight I had just had.

As if in a state of hypnosis, I took out my phone and started scrolling through the phone book for no particular reason. Trying to put a face and a story to each name was turning out into a very enjoyable distraction. Of course there was the deleting of names whose faces I couldn’t place.

Before long I was deeply engrossed in this little game, until I came across a very odd name.

“Who is Crystal?” I wondered. I only knew of one place I could have picked such a name from, but it had been really long since I was there, and I had always been damn sure not to leave any traces of my presence there. I was just about to delete the entry when it hit me, slowly at first, then really drastically as the events of that eerie Monday around five months earlier came streaming back from the recesses of my memory.

“Crystal, Crystal….Wow!” I whispered rather loudly. A smile shot across my tired face.

“If you ever have the chance, call me. Maybe we can laugh about this then” She had said, a bewitching smile sweeping across her painfully pretty face.

This story had never gotten to Daisy thanks to a pact between me and Njeri, my house girl at the time. Njeri had since been replaced by a clueless new house girl (apparently Masai had done wonders to Njeri and she was now his fifth wife back in Samburu land, or so he claimed during one of our nightly exchanges).

Well, Crystal said call her when I had the chance, and here was her phone number, staring right back at me, reminding me of her mysterious demeanor and how radiant she looked after taking a shower right upstairs in my bathroom. Heck, she even wore my girlfriend’s clothes!

Ignoring the foreboding by every nerve in my body, I pressed the call button and held the phone to my ear. It was ringing.

“Hello?” That wasn’t her voice. That was a man on the other end. My hands were now trembling.

“H-h-hello, could I please speak to Crystal?”

“Who are you!? Why you call Crystal at crazy hours!!!? Are you other boyfriend!!? Eeeh!!?” That’s when it hit me, it was past midnight. The gentleman on the other side of the phone was obviously not a Kenyan brother and his attempt at English left a lot to be desired. With vintage Italian rage, he launched into a series of warnings, threats and really strong abusive rants. Whoever that was, he really didn’t appreciate men calling Crystal at crazy hours, probably even at normal hours.

It didn’t seem so rude to hang up on Edoardo or whatever his name was, so I hang up. It was time to go back upstairs.

Daisy was in bed, her apology speech already prepared, but I was so frazzled I had totally forgotten mine. I tried to salvage the situation by borrowing lines from previous fights to no avail. She didn’t take that very kindly, and for the first time ever, she slept as far away from me as possible, fully clothed.

The next day, right in the middle of a sales pitch to some potential clients, my phone rang. I always forgot to put my phone in silent mode when times demanded it, often to my boss’s vexation. I made a quick apology as I hurriedly took the phone out my pocket and turned it off. The caller id was the last one I expected to see at that time, and frankly it totally threw me off balance. The rest of that presentation was a total disaster. It’s a wonder we still got the account.

Calling Crystal had been a baaaad idea! In fact, still having her phone number in my phone was a bad idea. Flashes of my encounter with her five months ago and Edoardo’s rants on the phone the previous day kept coming back to me, causing me huge discomfort. I couldn’t wait for that day to end.

At the heart of the afternoon, as I tried to balance between the effects of the heavy lunch we had had with the clients and finishing my report, my phone rang again. It was Crystal.

“At least put it on silent if you won’t pick it Lawrence!” I don’t even remember who that was.

“Hello?” My voice was hoarse.

“Hello. Whoz this?”

It dawned on me that Crystal hadn’t taken down my phone number, and neither had I told her my name. All I had to do was come up with some wrong number story and put this behind me! This was my chance.

“Is this Crystal?” I knew it was Crystal. And what was wrong with my voice?

“Yes it is. I’m so sorry about yesterday…”

“No no, it’s ok, I should have checked the time before calling” My voice was coming back.

“Imagine I still can’t place your voice. Pleeeease remind me who you are!” Damn she sounded good! I wanted to see her again.

“Uhm, we met some months back, you used my bathroom to clean up after a certain episode?” This was followed by a soft mocking laughter on the other side of the line.

“You’ll have to be more specific” She said.

‘Really!!?’ I wondered.

“It was in a Mathree, you were, uhm, not smelling so good…”

“Oooooh my God!! I remember now!! I always wondered when you were going to call me! I didn’t even get the name of my Knight in shining armor!” A hearty laughter followed. She was killing me. I tried to laugh as well but a weird croak came out my throat so I gave up.

“I didn’t really tell you my name…”

“No you didn’t. Wow, you were so sweet!! You even gave me your girlfriend’s clothes! I have never forgotten you! You know what me and my friends call you?” Oh, she also had a title for me? This was getting very interesting.

“Nope, what?”

“We call you Mr X! The X is because we couldn’t find a sweet enough name for you. Can you imagine? God, I’m so happy you called me finally! We have to meet.”

Now I was sweating. Meet!? Are you frickin kidding me?

“I’m flattered. The name is Lawrence by the way. You can finally replace the X!” I announced like an absolute proud ass!

“Lawrence! I knew you had a magical name! So? When do I get to see you again?” If only she knew what damage she was causing to my systems.

“Uhm, I’m travelling out today, maybe next week after I come back?” I wasn’t travelling anywhere.

“Sure!! Please please call me. I can’t wait! My friends will be so happy to see you as well!” Boy wasn’t she excited.

“Ok! Enjoy the rest of your day then Crystal”

“You too Lawrence! And thanks for calling! Beeyyyyeee!!” Click, she was gone.

Smelly affairs in my house, angry Italians on my phone, happy reunions coming up, my relationship on the rocks, yeah, it was time to tell Daisy about this.

Would you date a matatu conductor?

Wakarima — Tue, 29 Jun 2010 05:07:10 +0000

We all have been heartbroken, it was my first time, the ache was too much, my heart was in ruins, it did not help that it was raining and I was getting late for an interview, Murphy’s Law was in total force. That is when I saw him, in black trousers, a red cap and a red t-shirt written, “Dig This?” He had a baby face, not too light, not too dark, curly hair and a swagger in his step. I dug him already.

He smiled as he walked toward me and in a moment I glanced behind, to make sure it was my smile. I did not return it though. He came to me, took my hand, I did not object, asked me where I was going, I did not answer, so he asked again, “tao msupa” (going to town beautiful?) I just nodded, there was something creeping from my hand to my heart. At the matatu, he opened the door for me and sat me in.

I was charmed, we all have our presumptions of how matatu conductors are complete jerks and unlearned, and this one was quite something. I immediately trashed those thoughts, I was after all in university and he was well just doing his job, he had to get people into the matatu.

As I watched him shout and call passengers, I started to see how handsome he was, not too tall, not huge, just my type. He came to talk to the driver and in the process asked if I was okay, I nodded.

I got the internship I had gone to interview for and on my way back, I hoped I would get the matatu in the stage. It was not there. A little disappointed I got into another. Just like the norm of matatus to behave badly, it abandoned me about three kilometers to my destination (I was the only left passenger). As I waited for another matatu in the dark, scared, I saw him again; he looked more handsome in the soft moonlight. Coincidence? No. more like a knight in shining armor, he had rescued me the damsel in distress. I quickly got in he sat next to me, tried some small talk and I just nodded politely.

When I alighted, he walked me to the gate and said goodnight. I think he was smitten too, as I was. Again I pushed him out of my mind,” he is a matatu conductor, am in university, my heart has just been broken, I am not thinking straight,” I told myself. However, we all know how the mind has a mind of its own, it refused to let him go.

From that day on, I waited for him in the evenings since I took the train in the morning and he always had a seat ready for me.

Something started happening, I gave him my number, and he said it was for in case I needed a ride home or whatever help, I call him. He did not suggest anything, there was no dirty talk, on occasions when he walked me from the matatu to the gate and a little inside we talked politics, studies, people’s dressing… He did not ask to be my boyfriend, as I said he was not suggestive.

I liked him even more, he was different, most guys just come onto someone immediately, I could not tell if he was bidding his time or he did not want to mess things up, I was sure though that he wanted me. Our differences did not come into play. Every other weekend and some evenings, after he had dropped the driver he would borrow the matatu and we would drive around town just talking. That is when he told me that he had gone to college, to do something in fine arts, did not get a job and that is how he became a conductor, so much for the fallacy that conductors barely make it past high school if they do make it to high school at all.

We connected on a level that I just cannot explain, a girl fell in love, how could I not, the conductor told me that he loved me in a roundabout, long way. He sucked me in and reeled me in with his words, charm and kind heart. He always had something nice to tell me. He never failed to give me his boyish smile, when he saw me. He was so cute.

Sometimes he took me to his place; it was pretty neat and nice. While there, he would buy soda and we would tell each other about ourselves. When he saw me off and hugged me at the gate, I hoped no one who knew me saw me.

At the end of my internship, school closed and I told the conductor how I did not want to go home upcountry and he suggested I go to his place, I did not agree. However, I had an interview scheduled two days after school and not wanting to stay at a relative’s, I took the offer, but just until the interview, I told myself. I moved in temporarily.

The first night he was so nice, he got someone to fill for him in the evening, cooked me supper, warmed my bath, had even got me a new pair of sheets, a bottle of wine and a movie. I was surprised a conductor had bought wine. I had expected very hard liquor. We sat in the sofa and covered ourselves with a duvet to watch the movie, later we went to bed together, nothing happened, just held each other and slept. He woke me with a kiss at an ungodly hour this morning as he went to work, and gave me that smile that warmed my heart. He is the first person I have never been mad at for waking me up.

Now that is my story, I do not know how it will be after today, am not ready to tell my friends, not my parents even and I especially do not want my ex to hear am dating a matatu conductor.

Of Men vs Women [Part 4]

lawrence — Wed, 02 Jun 2010 07:40:45 +0000

Its one of those Wednesdays.

Shirley is busy packing her numerous belongings into her hand bag while bidding her colleagues good evening. She often thinks of quitting this Bank Teller job, but some days stand out more than most. Like today for instance. It takes 4 days for a cheque to mature! Simple and Clear. So why would a grown up man, bring his ugly face to the bank two days later!? As if that’s not enough, claim that the bank is too slow, and try to debate bank policy with her, a mere bank Teller!?

Anyway, thank God the day is over. Hopefully Becky will have some juicy stories to cheer her up with when they meet up in 15 minutes. “Oops!” she exclaims, glancing at her watch. She’s already late. She bends down to trace her high heels. She finds one, squeezes her right foot into it while scanning her booth for the other. It’s nowhere to be found, again! She knows who the culprit is.

She limps into James’s booth and there it is. “Not funny Jaymo!” She hisses, while painfully putting it on. Seriously, is her left foot bigger than her right? She wonders for the hundredth time. No way, it must be these damn shoes. Why can’t Jaymo just grow a pair and ask her out instead of playing these stupid games?

It’s been a crazy Wednesday!

A day out of the office is more than just a treat for Stan. Meeting his favorite client, spending almost half the day with Lindsey trying to understand their family business has been a ball. She might be in her late thirties but God knows that woman is beautiful.

He has until 8:30 tomorrow morning to submit his branding proposal. Cruel as he always is, Mike the art director decides to take half the afternoon debating a bloody logo. With only two hours left in the day, Stan knows he will be working late. It’s 4:30 pm, only two slide shows done and more research to be done. “Oops!” he exclaims, noticing the time on his Mac. He won’t be able to meet up with Dee. He should have called her earlier but what the hell. He can’t deal with her whining now so a simple text should do.

“Hey Dee. Tied up @ the ofis, crazy client. Wil make it up 2 u, prmise. Lv u ”

Its 8:30 pm. Shirley bids Becky farewell at the bus stage with a fond hug, promises to call her tomorrow about the weekend movie plot, and boards the bus.

Oh damn! Its almost full. Shirley likes it when she’s one of the first people on a bus. That way she gets to choose her spot. Now all the good window seats are taken. Only one available and she knows why. It’s just above the rear tires, which means a bumpy ride. She just had fries so God help her stomach. She settles in, and gets out her phone to call Becky and see if she managed to get a ‘mathree’ home. That
girl will have to move out of Eastlands some day.

Laptop bag hoisted on his shoulder, Stan briskly walks out of the office, hoping to get the last bus home just this once. It’s going to be a long night spent not sleeping. Hopefully the two litre coke he bought yesterday is still intact, if Tom his roommate didn’t have another ‘visitor’ that is. That dude will have to get himself a job soon coz this is just getting out of hand. A little reserve with the fridge items would be welcome when Stan is the one purchasing everything in there! Anyway…

He takes out his phone and dials Mike’s number.

Thank God Becky got herself a ‘mathree’. Actually thank that ‘Kange’ who is obviously hoping for some form of reward for helping Becky jump to the front of the line. Cheeky Smile.

“Life’s great. Couldn’t be doing better!”

Yeah right! Just last week he was telling her how miserable he was without her. Cliff is just pathetic. What had she seen in this guy? Becky has to see this.

“Sup swty, hebu chk tht idiot’s stts updt on fbk!”

Phewx! One more minute and he would have missed this last seat.

“Yeah, I get it Mike. But right now I seriously need that template otherwise MD will slice my throat open tomorrow….. Please dude, even if you have to find a cyber café….ok, try your neighbor then….just find a way to send it to me tonight please!….Ok. Thank You!”

Ugh! Mike sucks! Sigh.

“OMG!! Becky! U wnt bliv who jst sat nxt 2 me!”

To be continued…

Other articles in this series
Of Men vs Women [Part 1]
Of Men vs Women [Part 2]
Of Men vs Women [Part 3]
Of Men vs Women [Part 4]

All in a day’s work

cyiengi — Wed, 19 May 2010 07:21:25 +0000

Musing between how to end it or make it work…surely things cannot be this hard? Not if two people are really truly interested in sorting out the important issues? What else could he do after he realized that he couldn’t love her the way she wanted to be loved? At least not now…he was hurting too much about so many issues that she couldn’t understand. Yet he wondered why it was so difficult to reach her when she had seemed so approachable in the beginning. Maybe it was just the same cycle of coming round full circle; loving the same kind of distant, unavailable woman each time, no matter what he tried.

Today it was the heated matter of “boundaries” in relationships especially in marriage. He quipped that marriage by its very institution was sacred on its own and those coming into it ought to know that it already comes with set boundaries. It is now a unique and exceptional relationship where you choose to remain loyal and faithful to one. Her stance that she was right in pursuing other interests because her needs weren’t being met were irrelevant, he raved.

And couldn’t it just simply be a matter of sharing one’s viewpoint on the matter? Why did it have to be dissected so much while he was psycho-analysed?

It seemed to him that, of late, she was always looking for a bone of contention…getting him angry and responsive at all costs. Was this what other husbands faced in their homes? If so then mankind was doomed! There was no one in their right mind who would be happily contemplating walking down the aisle after he shared his experiences!

Then topics quickly veered off towards the thorny issue of in-laws and their ‘nosy-ness’ in marriages; which set the ball rolling on a precarious tangent. Surely one person did not have to bear the brunt of what a ‘kirinde’ (group) were being faulted for, she asked? This was insane! Why not deal with people on an individual basis? He felt choked with anger. She couldn’t see where he was going with this…how her non-committal attitude towards her parents’ and siblings’ unsolicited involvement in their lives was causing them such angst. He tried to reason with her to no avail. He defeatedly told her to handle them as she wished. He was too tired to argue over this anymore.

As always, it ended in disaster no matter what tactic he tried to apply. Coaxing, suggestion, role play, innuendo… it was all lost on her. She gave off this air of emotional fragility that made others want to protect her yet he often had the overwhelming urge to shake her to her senses. Even when he tried to suggest counseling (God forbid!), she remained hard headed. This marriage was slipping away; being eaten at the roots by immovable resolution and “irreconcilable differences” he smiled wryly at the oft-used celebrity expression for separations and divorce.

Maybe it was best if he let the chips fall where they may. Maybe he was trying to support and hold on to a mirage (something that didn’t really exist except in his imagination). Maybe it was time to finally have some peace and quiet at home (in his heart). After all, trust was still a biggie. He couldn’t trust her again; not after the last three episodes where he had expressly told her of his displeasure and discomfort about repeated late working hours that has resulted in her having an affair with one of her male “friends”; emotional albeit, but an affair of the heart just the same. He needed to come to terms with this.

Now here she was defending her tuff when it came to her extended family. Did he really come first with her? Did he still need to be fighting for that position in her heart this far down the line? Maybe she needed a reality check. Surely he couldn’t be treated like any other man she related with every so often while she expected preferential treatment? If his repeated attempts to reach out for understanding from her on such key issues wasn’t an indication of his continued commitment to her, then he might as well throw in the towel. He didn’t know what else she wanted.

He found himself debating the merits and demerits of calling Samson this late in the night to mediate and offer a level head. But what would that change this time round? How long did people need to endure cycles of abuse before they caved in?

He decided to give up this time and stop trying- it wasn’t worth it anymore. It always seemed he was more interested in mending fences whereas she was keen to let them while on by. Well, let things be….all in a day’s work.

Integrity

cyiengi — Thu, 13 May 2010 09:29:38 +0000

Much ado about nothing, you say? Well if Integrity isn’t that big a deal in society why do we vilify those caught cheating or playing the field? It seems to be the latest fad in the media whenever one’s word is doubted or someones hand is caught in the cookie jar…

Integrity will speak a lot for our Character. It speaks about our basic nature…our value system…the things we stand for (or won’t stand for). It is tied to Consistency (what you see is what you get). Do we keep your word? Are there areas in our lives we can honestly admit to weaknesses and shortcomings without a defense/excuse? Can people trust our response on a certain matter or do goal posts shift with us?

When we critically analyse our relationships with this as the yardstick, we are not surprised then that there is so much mistrust among us because no one seems credible. You meet someone and when they are well-mannered or hospitable, you look for the ‘catch‘: wondering when the shoe will fall, when they will catch you off guard and stab you in the back, or take your closely guarded secret and scream it from the rooftops. A close friend confides that she has found few who are consistent in their lives; so much scheming and underhandedness seems to be the order of the day. Our politicians say one thing today and join the next camp tomorrow for political mileage, some of our spiritual leaders ‘preach water and drink wine’, civil servants in public office whose mandate it is to be of service to the public are sometimes found AWOL during office hours when their service is so critical, ‘matatu’ conductors promise their passengers safe travel to their an eventual destination/s, only to drop them off unceremoniously halfway through the journey on a whim or because of making a quick buck!

Any relationship will do well to have Integrity as one of its foundational tenets. People of Integrity will always be there, focused, true, steadfast, strong, unmoved by the current ‘in thing’. It builds Trust and confidence, keeps friends and increases your self esteem- you always know where you stand with them. They are real.

If we approached our friendships and marriages, jobs/careers with this attitude in mind, many disappointments, heartbreaks and revenges would be avoided. We would be so much more effective; in fact, I daresay, the state of our societies would benefit greatly from such a mindset!!! Theres no hassle because you know where you stand with so-and-so, they deliver exactly what they say they will when they said they would. Doesn’t that make for a satisfied arrangement?

The power to believe in someone’s “staying power” will come from their consistent responses to challenges and situations in life. In Consistency lies the Power!!! Isn’t that a relief? Knowing that fences will not be changed on you, no matter what you do. Then you can just simply relax, be yourself and have a whale of a time in your relationships.

Kudos, to the men and women of Integrity, who go against the tide…

Is it just me?

lawrence — Thu, 06 May 2010 06:04:35 +0000

I am not one to kiss and tell, so if anyone, especially Daisy, ever asks if we had this conversation, IT DIDN’T HAPPEN. I will deny and swear by my Great great grandfather’s grave that it wasn’t me.

Sigmund Freud

I have heard far too often that there is nothing like ‘deep friendship’ between boys and girls, men and women, males and females …you can finish off the list. Reason being very simple, as my good old friend Sigmund Freud says without flinching a muscle, it’s all about sex. If she is not my sister or first cousin, then yeah, trust Freud, it’s all about sex.

Males and Females, human and animal alike, are drawn to each other by purely sensual bonds, supported by a deeply rooted but also hugely tacit hope that at one point in the near future, the so called ‘friendship’ will culminate in sexual gratification. Yes he is your boy from the hood, yes you have known him since he was wetting his pants, yes you even saw him naked once, yes you two have been through too much together to even consider that option, yes even your mother thinks of him as her son, yes he says sometimes he even forgets that you are a girl. Deep inside, deep deep inside, like really deep inside, he hopes you two will one day do it, if you haven’t done it already. Oh, and here’s the best part, you too share the same sentiments. Hard to believe until you end up in my kind of quandary then you stop hating on Freud.

You see, I always thought Freud was a deeply disturbed person who in his time could have benefited greatly from psychiatric help. I have friends, girls, whom I have known as we like to put it, ‘like since forever’. We played ‘Kati’ and ‘Cha mama’ and other games whose names escape my lazy mind for now. We splashed mud on each other on our way from nursery school, made fun of each other all through primary school, and wrote hilarious letters to each other through out high school.

One such girl was Kate. A sweet girl around her parents, a naughty girl around her friends and extremely notorious in high school. She must have had at least 3 suspensions during her spell in some obscurely named school in the back of nowhere. Her parents knew nothing about these suspensions thanks to jobless middle aged men and women in a nearby town, who performed marvelously in posing as the summoned angry parents during these episodes.

Anyway, Kate mysteriously scored good enough grades to be posted to one of the local universities, unfortunately in the opposite end of the country. We lost touch for the four years that followed.

This was Kate anyway. A random call every once in a blue moon would suffice for keeping in touch and life moved on. This was until Facebook notified me that I had a friend request.

Like many other females I know, Kate had named her profile some queer name, probably from a movie she once watched. As nonchalantly as I always accepted requests from such strangely named ‘friends’, I accepted this one as well. Then her profile picture caught my eye.

Click click and I was viewing a slide show of her other equally eye catching profile pictures. I could not remember her hair being that long and that black. I could not remember seeing her in a top that was barely supported by her now full-grown bosom. And I definitely could not remember that Tattoo on her arm. The Kate (a.k.a Janice Pops) that I knew always wore wide rimmed glasses that gave her a geeky look. She didn’t have them on in these pictures, and yes, those naughty crystal eyes definitely caught my attention.

My boss’s abrupt entrance into the office prompted my fingers to do their thing with keyboard shortcuts, but I definitely did not forget Janice Pops.

Fast forward to several days later, and I’m briskly walking across the City centre, only to see the very familiar face of Kate, with her glasses on and hair held back just like she used to before Facebook. I grab her hand, a moment of fright before she recognizes my face, a tight hug ensues and I immediately forget where I was headed. Nairobi is indeed a very small town!

Oh yeah, I was headed for a friend’s birthday party across town. Kate didn’t have any big plans for the evening and of course we had a lot to catch up on. Daisy had oh so conveniently refused to accompany me on the grounds of feminine issues. I wasn’t particularly upbeat about this until I met Kate.

Fast forward to the Party, where the company was great, the food delicious and the ‘Viño Veritas a.k.a Akoho a.k.a the root of all evil’ was flowing freely. Oh yeah, and Kate decided to let her hair go, got rid of the spectacles and freed herself from the sweater she had been imprisoned in earlier. The comfort with which she would let herself into my arms on the sofa, or gyrate her behind in the environs of my groin on the dance floor left my defenses very feeble.

Late into the night, tired from the dancing, with my mind compromised by a concoction that had acquired a special name that night, Kate and I were directed to our sleeping area, strategically tucked away from the roving sober eye.

I vaguely remember the events thereafter up to a certain point, after which I choose not to poke my memory any further for fear of the painful truth. Daisy would not be happy if she knew about this, and neither would my mum, nor her mum, nor the rest of the clan.

So now I have crossed over to the Freudian side, and I urge you my dear reader to do yourself a favor and do the same. There is nothing like ‘just friends’ between boys and girls. When the moment is right, shock on you, it will happen like you never imagined.

If you feel me say Amen!

Are ladies better off dating computer geeks?

KEEN — Fri, 30 Apr 2010 10:17:10 +0000

Yesterday I came across an interesting article titled Why girls should date Computer Wizards and Geeks. The author gives the following advice to ladies:

Instead of trying out relationships with a guy who is unpredictable and who may end up hurting them, girls can save themselves a lot of trouble by dating geeks and computer wizards. This guys are perfect, almost godly perfect for a relationship that one may think they are dating cupid himself.

According to the author some the pros of dating a geeks are as follows:

They are not players
They are very knowledgeable, and especially so when it comes to matters pertaining sex
They are mostly indoors so they wont leave you to go hang out with their friends
They never forget important dates and anniversaries

You can read the rest of the article here. What do you think, are ladies better off dating computer geeks? Share your thoughts in the comments.

Slow it down

missdharma — Thu, 29 Apr 2010 06:00:03 +0000

Many men think women are complicated. You know the old tale that a woman really does not know what she means when she says what she means. Here is classic scenario; my friend met this really nice guy at her place of work. The man in question is well educated and seems to be geared to take the world by storm seeing that he works as an aircraft engineer and he is depended upon as much as the captain in any flight he takes. With his educational qualification and job description we have his bank statement covered. He is a gentleman; opens doors, pulls chairs (This man is Kenyan and alive and as straight as an arrow)

Mr. Perfect has one downfall. Need for speed. He wants that in the first time he spends his hefty travel allowance on my darling friend she has to show her gratitude in an adult’s only kind of way which most normal women find repulsing.

I like the idea of a man in the quest to conquer mine heart, but it is the strategy that he uses that will determine his success rate. That sounded like chemistry or physics if you ask me. The thing is as much as women enjoy being pursued, they also enjoy patience in your quest.
When a woman asks that you take it slow, she means get you head out of your shorts and use what’s in your brain too, to get her to like you. Ever wonder why not so good looking men have beautiful (very beautiful) gals hanging onto their arms? Rich or otherwise? They have learnt to make up for what our Mr. Ego has left out: Patience. They have learnt to give a woman space to feel that she is in control of herself despite that she gets all giddy when you walk in and a Halleluiah jingle breaks out in her head and heart.

When the lady you are trying to get says we need to talk and drops the line that you should take it slow; in polite terms she means you need to tame the beast in you and let the gentleman that ,many men think exist on TV come out.

I have used the “take it slow” line before. Here is a short story. I had just started dating and well I wanted to see what was out there. I met a nice guy, I feel compelled to say his name but his girlfriend may know me. I will call him Speedy. Speedy was really nice. He would call me, find out how school was (I was 20) and after the completion of The Junction, we would hang out there. This was perfect. I had a friend. Someone I could talk to about everything, laugh with, hug and sometimes well…..kiss because this was all I wanted. I was happy. Dating was fun. Then speedy changed. He wanted me to tell him where I was at all times, wanted more than a kiss, wanted to come home meet my sisters, wanted to know what plans me and the girls had and speedy became well….speedy.

When women are forced to use the slow it down and, it is usually as a result of some kind of inexplicable frustration. It’s not that you are boring or that they do not like you. It’s just that you are starting to act weird and not as suave as you were when you first approached them. It’s like if a man has been trying too hard to get a woman’s attention and when he does tables turn and she calls him every hour and texts him all through the day. Its more than what you bargained for, when someone turns from an acquaintance to a psycho you want to avoid at all costs.
Maybe some tips to help you avoid the weird three words.

When a girl you have been eyeing finally gives you the time of day (do your happy dance) but never show that you are you excited. As a woman if I know that I got you, I will be the boss. Meaning if you do anything contrary to my expectations-you get the three words.
If a girl gives you her number, take like 3 days before you call her. Let her mind wonder. If you call her the same day regardless of how much she likes you, she will not reciprocate you feelings because the ball is in her court. Your silence makes her start re-evaluating herself thinking of what she may have said wrong to put you off or if you found her attractive

I could go on and on about the do’s and don’ts but I have to issue my disclaimer here that all situations are different and call for different reactions. Lady love would like you to share more with us regarding slowing it down…so please share your comments and all your questions will be vividly answered.

Of Men vs Women [Part 3]

Priorities

wacumureithi — Fri, 16 Apr 2010 05:00:21 +0000

Goodness we need to teach the men in this country how to prioritize. I watched a couple a few weeks back coming from a parking lot in the city. Remember that Parking in Nairobi cots a bundle, only the first hour is free in most places. This fact will be important at the end of the story.

It is also very important for me to point out that this couple is under the age of 23. Probably a college guy with mom’s car taking his girlfriend out to lunch on the Thursday right before Easter so he has absolutely no fuel costs.

I was walking behind this couple on the street behind World Business Centre-the blue building on Tom Mboya St next to Bata opposite Latema Rd. So anyway, this only struck me when they got inside the Kenchic that is at the end of that road connecting Tom Mboya Street with Moi Avenue. I am not a stalker first of all I don’t follow random people around town just because… I was just led into a train of thought by the activities of this couple for the five or so minutes I was walking behind them.

I probably need to begin with the fact that, as my best friend likes to put it, I am a high class girl living in the wrong side of town. I would rather be at the Teaspot paying Ksh. 100 for my fries when I can only spend Ksh. 100 on my lunch than go to a Kenchic and have fries and a chicken sausage which will cost me the same Ksh 100. And I happen to have internal reviews of the places I would like to be caught in and the ones I would not like to be heaved in if I fainted right outside and the only reason I am inside the joint is because I am unconscious.

That said I can now continue to the math I had to do in the minutes before I got into a matatu snickering to myself about the matter. I can safely admit that I have walked into a Kenchic in the recent past and I think that the price tag on a proper meal for a date is likely above Ksh. 230 for a portion of fries, soda and a quarter chickens. For two people that would be Ksh. 460 so the guy must at least have 500 to pay for lunch.

Ksh. 500 plus the money that would be incurred on parking and the fact that he wouldn’t be driving without at least Ksh. 200 considering how cops in this town harass people on the road, for a teenage boy to take a girl out for a reasonably nice date he needs a basic Ksh. 1000 or at least Ksh. 800. And with that much the happy couple will have to contend with a Kenchic, the equivalent of a ‘kalocal’ in my very wrong side of town books. But honestly, with the high chairs and counters Kenchic is just a ‘kalocal’ to me.

I am so glad I am me because I would not be caught dead on a date in a Kenchic. That is a serious fact. Kenchic is the place I walk into at wee hours of the night when I am likely to bump into everybody getting their meal for the night after a few hours out on the town on a Friday night. They are too drunk to remember where it is that they saw me. Plus, at that hour it is absolutely acceptable to be caught in a Kenchic because nothing else, except probably the pub we were in, is open. I hate pub food because the fries taste like chicken and the chicken is so hard it is practically impossible to know what it tastes like. At that hour a Kenchic is the best meal in town.

I have however discovered a pub I can eat at. So now I embark on the task of disabusing the young boys and girls from thinking that Kenchic is their only choice. I happen to have had drinks with a bunch of people that I met on a social network. We call our tweet- ups #mauwano. Last time we met up, we went to KPs. That joint on Utalii House at the extreme end of the CBD. I had two of the most sumptuous burgers of my life. They had done their meat just right and nothing changed even when I made the order for second one. And get this, the burger costs Ksh 100. I also had a fantastic plate of fries that I would only compare to a plate I had on my son’s second birthday with my two best friends from high school. Fries set the guy paying a mere Ksh. 80. How is that for a shocker? Next to my several bottles of cold black ice, the great company and the good music from the boom box, I am convinced that guys in Nairobi take us to Kenchic where we can’t even have a descent conversation and are constantly nauseated by the smell of fries and deep fried chicken just because they have their priorities all wrong.

When you take a girl out do you do it for the conversation and the time spent together or do you do it to make a lasting impression? If you knew which question of the two you will answer first then I believe we can salvage you yet. If you do not, it s no matter just be contended with the fact that at a Kenchic all you get is the time spent together because conversations will be next to impossible. At KPs if your poison is alcohol or at the Teaspot on Chai House if you’re a tea or coffee guy (note that one may be more expensive than the other one) you get to one, make an impression, two, get to have a conversation and three, get to enjoy the time spent together.

If you boys know your priorities and know that picking me up is not important at all, then you know that the Ksh 150 spent on parking could have been put to better use at a joint where you would make a lasting impression.

I know that I haven’t exactly put down a list of how you need to prioritize but if you’re smart you can do it all on your own.

Of Men vs Women [Part 3]

lawrence — Tue, 13 Apr 2010 04:53:11 +0000

“This is just moving too fast! I mean, don’t get me wrong…I am glad I met you Lawrence…you are amazing…you have all these great qualities that I always wanted to have in my man…we have a lot of fun together…but…can we just take this a little slower?…”

Then she pulls one of those girlish ‘woiiishee’ smiles that she knows drives me crazy.

I’m not sure what to say to her. So I just sit there, feign an its-ok smile, tell her I understand, and keep stroking her stubborn hair strand.

Truth is, I don’t understand a thing!

We had been seeing each other quite regularly for almost 2 months. Lunch/Coffee/Juice Dates, Ice Cream Marathons (we both loved those) and lots of evening walks across the city (its beautiful at night in Nairobi).

In vintage Lawrence style I had pulled a couple of surprises on her that simply blew her friends’ minds off. She also loved them, told me no guy had ever done those to her before. She called me crazy a number of times, and I told her she inspired madness in me because of how I felt about her.

As far as I was concerned, I was simply doing what any man who truly was attracted to a girl that he didn’t encounter on a daily basis would do, in an attempt to get her into the proverbial box.

Daisy was and still is everything I would ever want in a wife-material Girlfriend. Simple, down-to-earth, really funny, beautifully weird and a practicing Roman Catholic (I am too). Her soft chocolate skin, a bewitching smile and a mysteriously shapely figure despite her obsession with anything sugary, were all huge contributing factors to my infatuation with her.

It seemed totally natural for me to tell her how I felt and treat her like the queen I believed she was. Nothing would make me happier than to be her Man, and I made this quite clear to her.

“Have I done anything to pressure you? Coz I really didn’t intend to do that…”

“No no no, you have been incredible Lawrence. It’s just that…oh God…aronnooo…I’m really scared I guess”

Let me get this clear. I have been great. Something about God. She doesn’t know. She guesses that she is scared.

Could it get any clearer than that? Probably not. So I try to maintain my its-ok smile.

“I mean…” Oh she has noticed how lost I am (did I mention she is also quite intelligent?)

“Aaaaa…I really cherish my heart Lawrence…and before I give it to someone…uhm…I have to be really sure…It’s harder in your case because…coz…I have a feeling this will be really big for me…and that scares me”

I see.

I am faced with two options here. Either launch into a speech about how I will never break her heart, how she is my one and only, how I want to spend the rest of my life with her blah blah blah. But I am certainly sure she has heard this same tale before.

So I go for option two.

“I’m guessing you’ve had your heart broken before huh?”

“Yea.” Oh boy, there goes the smile again.

“Hmmm. How long had you guys been going out?”

“Around two years.”

Now my mind is racing. Two Years!!? I have never been committed to anything (human or otherwise) for longer than six months. Two Years????!!! What could that bastard possibly have done to mess her heart up like that? Something tells me I shouldn’t ask that question.

“Look Daisy, I have never before, ever, let anyone get this close to my heart. For me relationships have always been a social hobby where I get in, have my fun, and if at one point it doesn’t work out, well, I walk out.”

“I don’t know much about heart breaks, but I have seen my friends going through them and it freaks the s#$& out of me to even think of me in such a situation.”

“But you, I don’t know how or why, but you have made me throw all caution to the wind. If this doesn’t work out, then trust me, you are going to have a very virgin heart to crush”

She gives me this intense look, then breaks into a smile, and blushes like I have never seen her do before.

“Oh God Lawrence!” She whispers, but audibly enough.

“But hey, if you need time, I will do my best to give you that. I also promise to slow down the best way I can.”

“Thanks.” And there goes the smile again. I smile back.

All I am thinking at that point is, ‘One of my girl friends had better know what this god dammed slowing down business is all about’. Or better yet, if you know what “slowing down” means do share in the comments.

Other articles in this series
Of Men vs Women [Part 1]
Of Men vs Women [Part 2]
Of Men vs Women [Part 3]
Of Men vs Women [Part 4]

When the honeymoon phase is over

bailey — Wed, 07 Apr 2010 06:14:42 +0000

So there you were, the two inseparable lovebirds, cooing at each other, stealing glances, barely keeping your hands off each other. You called each other 10 times a day “just because”. The sweet little gifts were exchanged and the sweet nothings whispered in each other’s ears.

Everyone around you was jealous and sick at the same time.

But, though you barely noticed it, it’s gone now. You can’t even remember the last time you missed him/her.

Or you met a kindred spirit. This girl understood you and finished your sentences. You had the same taste in clothing, movies, shoes, food. You knew who to call when you needed a shopping buddy or just to vent. You knew who to call when you both had no dates Friday night coz you could just hang out and have fun together.

So when did she start getting on your nerves? How come you never noticed how annoying she can be sometimes? How come you avoid hanging out with her nowadays and seek out other friends? What happened?

How about the girls from work? You carpool some evenings and sometimes go for drinks together after work. You catch up on office gossip and laugh at Bill from Accounting who hits on every creature in a skirt. You evaluate your monthly earnings and strategize on how you’re going to ask for a raise. You give each other tips on surviving office politics. You have intelligent conversations together. You’ve found other friends who you can relate to at work.

How then, did you start being jealous of each other? Why did you start noticing how Jenny is too close to her boss? When did you start turning on each other as if you’re all competing for the same prize?

There’s a phrase for this condition (coined, partly, by me): The End of the Honeymoon Phase.

The Honeymoon Phase IS where everything looks rosy and beautiful. Everything is alright with the world. You’ve never felt happier, more understood, or fit in better. It’s a great feeling.

But then the beauty starts to wear off. Reality starts to set in.

I guess in that phase you don’t really see things as they are. They’re obscured somewhat, I don’t know by what….denial perhaps? Hope?

I dislike the End of the Honeymoon Phase. I guess I dislike reality because it’s cold and hard. I like the warm fuzziness of the Honeymoon Phase.

How to deal with it?

I have a few theories:

1. Accept it. It was bound to happen anyway. It’s life, and we all know it’s NOT perfect.

2. Embrace it. Yes, so you learnt your partner is not such a good listener after all. He merely stares as his mind wanders and you yap away. You can use that to ask him for all the things you want and then use it against him because he was just nodding senselessly. See? You both win. He didn’t have to hear all your drivel and you get what you wanted. It’s win-win if you ask me.

3. Learn from it. So the girls from work aren’t really going to be your BFFs. That’s OK, you have other friends, right? Guess it’ll just make you appreciate the true friends you have more.

Now, to go follow my own advice.

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When we stare [Part 2]

lawrence — Mon, 29 Mar 2010 07:57:46 +0000

Christine was…well…different. As I discovered later, she wasn’t really in what you would consider the top cream of her class – if by class you meant from an academic perspective. She derived her reputation from ‘leading men astray’ as my priest would put it. I found her particularly skinny but she spared no efforts at squeezing her body into the skimpiest of school skirts, often to the administration’s chagrin.

I briskly followed Jack who appeared to be in a peculiar hurry to get things over with. Our short trip led us to a darker section of the block corridor where Christine’s slim image was partially hidden from the teacher on duty’s roving eye. Jack made quick introductions and even before I acknowledged Christine’s presence, he was gone.

So there I stood, heart pounding, feet barely supporting my lanky frame and on the verge of a massive sweating attack. Christine, in stark contrast, seemed perfectly composed, and at ease with this whole eerie situation.

“So, you are the famous Lawrence, huh?” she asked, eying me head to toe as if evaluating a new army recruit.

“Uhm, I’m not r-r-really famous as such” I replied, still wondering why I was doing this.

“Oooh, how humble of you. That’s so sweet!” and finally she offered an inviting smile.

This awkward exchange continued for a while. Christine was no novice at all, and in no time had managed to make me feel totally at home in that dark corner.

Our little introductory meeting was not to last long though before we heard the TOD’s (Teacher on Duty) lazy footsteps approaching from the only exit out of that hideout. In a quick swift move that still baffles me to date, Christine got hold of my arm, pulled me close to her and gestured me to keep it still and quiet.

The footsteps approached, closer, and closer, slowing down with each step. Christine held me tighter, murmuring what I presumed to be ‘don’t even twitch!’. The footsteps finally came to a halt, and all was silent for what felt like an eternity. The thoughts of what my dad would do to me if I ended up suspended due to this stupidity was enough to get me really close to peeing my pants. My sweat attack finally caught up with me and if anything would have given us away, it would have been my throbbing heart beat. But something else, a deep silent voice in the deep recesses of my mind, kept reminding me that I had my body pressed really close to Christine’s. This was new. This was different from the hugs my mum gave me whenever she visited. This was close to what Jack had been trying too hard to explain to me, only really uncomfortable and increasingly painful.

“I think he is gone!” she hissed as she eased her grip on my now numb mid section.

Quick peck on my cheek, an ill-see-you-soon mumbled into my ear, and off she was gone, leaving me still trying to reconstruct the events of the past ten or so minutes. The TOD’s voice bellowing in the distance brought me back to reality and I quickly dashed back to class, just in time to avoid having to face my dad about this prohibited escapade.

“So how was it?” Jack couldn’t contain his excitement.

“Hey, let me catch up on class work first, then we can talk afterwards”.

“Come on big man! Share the juice!” One of Jack’s cronies chipped in.

“I said afterwards!!” The recently crowned big man had spoken.

They finally gave up on me. For two hours I stared at the same page on my Biology book, not really making any significant progress. With no TOD standing two meters away from me, I could finally rewind my mental clock and appreciate what it really felt like to be in Christine’s arms like that. It felt good, and I couldn’t wait to meet her again.

It took a while before Jack was able to plan logistics for another meeting, thanks to the arrival of our new omnipresent deputy head teacher. My staring got worse, this time more informed thanks to Christine. How would it feel like to be held by that one? No, the one next to her is bigger, it should be more comfortable with her. Oh, look at that other one, now that is a good one…

Months passed by, I met Christine several more times before I realized that I wasn’t getting a very fair deal. My confidence levels went up, I learnt a few tricks and soon I was able to go after my own Christines. With every new conquest, new challenges presented themselves, my standards rose and once a while even Jack would pick up a thing or two from my experiences, while proclaiming that he had taught me well.
One valuable lesson I learnt from Jack was that staring was not an end in itself but a means to an end.

The art of staring is derived from the power of observation which has been the source of all the greatest inventions of mankind and the resultant scientific and technological developments. The intrinsic elements of staring, including what to look at, how to not get caught, how to judge response when caught and how to interpret the findings from a staring activity were all imparted into me in excruciating detail by my erstwhile mentor. I still think Jack would have made a great lecturer if only he had lasted through High School.

Over the years I have learnt to put the skills I acquired to much better use. How to stare beyond a lady’s physical attributes, to include her demeanor and chivalry for instance has proven quite helpful in my recent exploits at romance. My beloved Daisy is a fruit of this age old art.

So what’s the moral of my story? Well, next time you catch a semi-skilled brother staring, please cut him some slack and try to support his efforts. He could be your next Romeo trying to get his Juliet.

PS: Staring is different from Ogling. If he is ogling, you have every right to kick him where you think it hurts most

When we stare [Part 1]

Commitment or not

quill — Wed, 24 Mar 2010 06:00:10 +0000

She sat at the far end of the corner feeling so down and wondering how come Jake had become so distant with her. They had gone out and I mean she had done everything by the book but still it was not working out. Her calculations in her head were so many that she decided it was better to let it go.

However what we don’t realize is that just because a man has refused to commit to us (women in general) is that he is not interested or assume that he is afraid of commitment. Of course understanding the male species is not an expertise or a craft to be learned; somehow we say use your gut feeling and sometimes it may just work. Yeah they give mixed signals but the truth of the matter is that each man has a relationship timeline thus the term we use that so many men are so unavailable, that’s a whole load of crap.

This may look selfish in some way but my assumption is that not all men want a serious relationship until he sorts out his “issues” and tries to re-align his life and know whether he is in for a serious committed relationship or not. I know you are wondering whether as a woman you should wait for him to collect himself together, and some are wondering “is it all about him”, or “do I have to wait around for him to get his act together so that he may have a serious relationship with me?” Absolutely not.

As women we want to have a committed relationship and that’s our nature but I believe that men have their own tempo in the time that they want to have a commitment with a woman. Just because you have gone out for over six months this in a man’s world does not mean that he is ready to have a committed relationship with you. That’s one thing that women do not understand. On most occasions we (women) find ourselves being the instigators of wanting the relationship to go to the next level, pushing for something that we deem fit sometimes for our own selfish reasons but in so doing the man falls into withdrawal symptoms that ends up in “issues” and drama that is constant.

As the man falls in this symptom he finds himself wondering whether this was what he really bargained for and it ends up being a hard task or a hardship opportunity and all he wants to do is bolt and up and leave. This makes us feel so unloved but in the real essence we really are the cause of the problem in the first place.

But to really avoid this if you have spent some time with a man and you are growing closer and closer by the day, then let things be as they are, don’t try to shape your relationship into something that you want it to be, it really ends up in a very ugly, gruesome way that you never wished for. Commitment for a man is not done in mere words or a conversation, it just happens and at the long run it’s a feeling he gets for himself that is rather satisfactory and then it really happens.

When we stare… A true story [Part 1]

lawrence — Fri, 26 Feb 2010 06:15:59 +0000

If you had the option of choosing what precise moment you prefer to die, what would your choice be? Most of us would probably say just after going for confession. Let’s face it; none of us likes the idea of paying for our sins, right? Sins by definition are everything your mama and your pastor or priest have told you not to do, but which for some obscure reason appear infinitely more appealing than the good deeds. But what to do? It is what it is, right? Ok, enough of that.

One of the Sins I was repeatedly admonished against as I grew up was ‘Girls’. I’m serious. My list of the top ten sins to avoid had ‘Girls’ leading at first position by a colossal margin. Precisely put, I remember such assertions as ‘Achana na hawa wasichana’, ‘Wasichana watakuharibia maisha’, and my favourite one, frantically delivered just before I left for campus, ‘Ukiwaona, toka mbio!’.

It came as a complete surprise to me when my Paps raised this issue for the first time, during one of our scant-but-still-scary father-son bonding sessions. Turns out ‘Girls’ wasn’t a sin; and that’s how ‘Girls’ lost the singles quotes. “Girls are good”, he said. “But not now”, he concluded with finality. According to Paps, I had to finish my schooling first before I earned any rights to Girls. Girls would distract me from achieving his dream of fathering the first ‘A’ material in our village. Nothing was going to come between me and his social bragging rights, nothing!!

In the face of this maze of declarations regarding this mysterious opposite sex, who would blame me for being increasingly curious? Thus I began staring.

At first it was an innocent question of why not? What made them so evil? Why was I to stay away from them? Were my sisters different from them? If so, how? The only tangible difference between us was that they wore dresses (that was long ago) and didn’t seem to break their voices while ours rapidly did. They seemed perfectly harmless to me. I sincerely couldn’t place my deeply-Christian-teenage finger around it.

This was of course before I had ‘the Talk’ with Jack.

Jack was the mister-know-it-all giant of our class. Every new term, he would show up with a new wave of disturbing intelligence, gathered during the holidays from unverified sources at his uncle’s local pub. Oh, you should have attended one of his ‘Sermons’. They were deeply compelling in the least, and most of us innocent underlings hang onto his every word. He was Jack after all. If only he had applied his out-of-class studiousness in class, where it actually mattered, I’m sure he’d be way better off now.

The editor allowing, I will share with you some of Jack’s theories in another article.

So one day Jack caught me staring.

Actually, at that time I wasn’t staring at a Girl, not at all. I vividly remember that my thoughts lingered around our new Biology teacher, who seemed determined to lure me to sleep every time she opened her orifice to teach. Painfully boring doesn’t begin to explain her teaching methods. I was simply worried about my grades, and while staring at oblivion, I wondered how I would make it through her classes and grasp something, anything.

“You like her?” asked Jack, patting me hard on my feeble back.

“What!?” I asked, startled out of my one person silent crisis meeting.

“Christine!” he barked back.

“Who’s Christine?”

“The Girl you were staring at Silly!” this guy had little if any courtesy in his veins.

“I wasn’t staring at any girl!” I protested.

“Yeah right!! I saw the way you were looking at her melons” he barked again amid mock laughter.

“Melons!?” I genuinely didn’t know what that meant.

To this day I still think that conversation went on for longer than it should have, with the absolute wrong person.

Jack gave me the first real biology lesson of my life, and promised me a practical session at a later date, when he felt I was ready. I couldn’t look at Girls the same way again after that conversation. The next day, madam sleepy-slipperson taught us about the reproductive system and it felt like revision to me.

Jack changed my life. From that day onwards, the staring moved to a whole new level. It wasn’t about why not any more. According to Jack, behind those innocent curtains lay the single best gift a man could ever receive. This realization made me feel different every time I stared. And I liked the feeling. So I kept staring, day in day out, wondering when I would finally behold this mysterious jewel that the Girls oh so hid from us.

I got caught many times thereafter, often by the object of my stare. Some gave me a sneering look and walked away; some smiled shyly and still walked away; and some simply scanned me from head to toe, probably decided I held no detriment, and continued minding their business. So I kept staring.

Eventually, Jack, who by now was a close ill-advisor of mine, had found me the perfect specimen for our first practical session. He, and his cohorts who were also closely monitoring my progress, showed up in class one day and whisked me out of my religiously strict study session. I didn’t take that kindly. He told me it was worth it, and once again, against my better judgment, I acquiesced to Jack’s lessons of life.

That’s when I met Christine, in person. And that’s when Girls lost the capital G.

To be continued…

Arranged Marriages

admin — Fri, 19 Feb 2010 07:35:42 +0000

I am Muslim (I love how that sounds so scary, BAM!), and never knew how funny muslim mothers could get. A few days ago, i was at a friends’ house,who had invited us, with another couple of families (yes, we do big like that) for dinner. There was my family, a French one, and another Pakistani one.

At first the dinner thing appeared to be really nice and empty of any weird thoughts (wait for it..), until I got up to get more cups from the kitchen and that our host followed me to gossip a bit. She by the way slipped in a couple of words about the Pakistani mother who was looking for a bride to her son, and joked about how she had lied to the woman who had asked her if she knew someone, while she actually knew me! This last part of the statement made me laugh, briefly, and then got me thinking of the expectations of a young Muslim girl’s family, still traditional even in our era.

Back to dinner, I had previously made the mistake of sitting next to the Pakistani mother; She asked about my studies, and I thought she was just interested in what a young girl could be doing with her life, and I was proud to let her know about it..She had a totally different perspective apparently; later on, i learned that the two and a half years that were left for me to graduate, were a bit too much for her and her son to wait.

Meanwhile, my mother also managed to explain to me that all the story telling and question asking from the Pakistani mother, was in the purpose of getting to know me, because she had a “fiancé” for me. My mom was quite thrilled, although you could tell she was fighting it and trying to hide it-it did not work. I could tell, because all of a sudden, she had forgotten about the serious talk that we were supposed to have when we get back home.

So in brief, Pakistani mother, in less than two hours, decides that I could be wife-material for her beloved son who works in Dubai, only if I was a year older. In less than two hours, I had a spot on her option list, then I got ditched, due to age reasons. To my mother, I had become a pride material. Suddenly, I was in the center of all the discussions (my mom studied communication..), a talented, well behaved young girl, ready to marry mommy’s son.

It all made me laugh-think, how both women made assumptions, conclusions and plans for two people who haven’t seen each other before, and who will probably never do so. It made me think that women at heir age begin to live in a dream land; not the Cinderella kind of dreamland, but more like a place where they could make all the decisions, and realize all their fantasies with no limits. The sad part about it is that I thought that my mom, as a highly educated woman, had other perspectives on marriage; I was wrong, she thought exactly like the sixty year old Pakistani woman who did an arranged marriage.

I must say that I am really lucky, because eventhough my mom is traditional (I never knew about it until yesterday!! it’s about time..), I know her and my father will still let me choose when it comes to that kind of matters, but I do worry about all the other girls out there, who do not have a say in their own lives. I don’t think I could become a feminist-activist, but I do think that girls should become their own activists, say no when they need to, without fearing the results, and falling for their families’ threats to a life in hell and eternal punishment from god. Total BS.

Author: LaLoca Coca
Bio: I am an International Relations student at USIU, I like to write about relationships, fashion and politics. I like the freedom that writing gives me to be able to criticize, analyze and share situations and stories from different fields of life.

Chivalry AWOL

emanon1 — Tue, 16 Feb 2010 06:20:47 +0000

I have endeavored to keep account mainly about child upbringing and single parenthood to date. However, today I will digress and talk about men and the current lack of chivalry among them.

So much is being said about us women having become so easy to get, loose, immoral etc. However, for every action, there is a reaction. Men today have no qualms about lamenting on and on about how women have worn trousers and taken up their roles.

Harken men! This is a sign that you have so failed to do your bit, that woman- the ever efficient multitasking person- has decided to also do your share of the work; in order to keep the race moving at the rate it should. Surely I imagine, if we women did not take up some of our male roles, earning, child upbringing, decision making, paid manual labor etc, our species would be underdeveloped and maybe under fear of being overtaken by aliens or wild animals. Just my two cents.

Traditionally, men were supposed to hunt, gather food, protect, instruct and guide the woman in family matters. Tradition flew out the window, when men replaced brains with brawn.

All a woman does better than a man, is to think while multitasking. In fact, thinking or wisdom is the basis by which superiority is gained. Thinking and improvising how to keep ourselves and a family, fed, housed, clothed, protected, educated…you get the drift. Just how many able men today, cater for any more than themselves? Women so perfected this takeover role,that many elderly women going back up to two generations, are tending for themselves, and children and grandchildren- to death. Not to add just how many are leaving behind legacies of inheritance, empathy and good morals to their surviving families.

Majority of my assumptions and facts are based on actual situations both here at home and in greater Africa. Similarly I also expect the same applies to other third world countries.

Chivalry. It all boils down to this. According to Thesaurus the synonyms of Chivalry are: gallant, courtly, brave, valiant, loyal, magnanimous, noble, courteous, polite, mannerly, well-mannered, gracious, attentive, considerate. The opposite or anonym is: cowardly and discourteous. I remember in the seventies before I became a teen, I assumed that all men were hard working, well meaning, tough, money bearing and disciplined home leaders. That was a loooong long time ago. Fast forward to 2010. I look around and see so many of my male age mates, with kids dotted along the way. Some looking after none, others some. Many have married only in the past five or so years. A whole many more, are just cohabiting and sleeping with whomever they wish, whenever, and at whatever cost to their lives and those of their families. And, to add insult to injury, no one is batting an eyelid.

We women meet and moan about it, shout out, leave temporarily, invoke family intervention, claw mistresses, and eventually relent to norms of a society going absolutely immoral. Many relent to staying on with eyes shut and hearts shattered. It is not to say that a man who is chivalrous, would not cease to stray or misbehave. It is only human to err. But the few men worth all our attention in families, society and corporations, employ these virtue in their everyday life. This means that in wooing a woman, caring for one’s home, dealing with in-laws, handling official matters and so much more, one behaves in a good manner. It easy to be well mannered.

The saying that ‘empty debes make much noise” is so true. Many men have turned themselves into drunkards, unthinking selfish people with little of no care for themselves, let alone others. Take Reuben, who is forty five and has been cohabiting with a woman for twelve years. They have three children, and he, two outside this relationship. They rent despite his ability to have taken a mortgage twelve years ago. He is a total embarrassment to his family and a disgrace to hers. They live from hand to mouth. He is known as the estate ram. Any woman – vendor, other’s wife, housemaid, neighbors’ daughter -is game to him. They only need step in to his local beer den when he is present. His children are fine, thanks to his wife’s ability to trade in wares within the hood, and her micro finance savings in local women’s groups. His compatriots are little better. Yes they may have a bit more stashed up and be more organized, but spending time with family is deemed sissy. Every day without fail, they are at the bar. Many are home only Sundays, to kill a hangover.

I do agree that there are many men out there doing a marvelous job at parenting and organizing their lives and those of their families, but they are the minority. The general acceptance of negative behavior in our lives is eating this society. It makes it that much for easier for youth to succumb to negative vices. Is it a wonder our sons are losing lives and hope at earlier ages? Where are the men to stand up in estates and come up with projects to do general trash collection, weed and drainage clearance and pruning of trees and shrubs; who will lead our sons to repair all fences in one street per weekend in an estate until all are done? Where are the fathers to ensure each local primary school is taught societal etiquette, first aid, or proper virtues, rules and disciplines? Where our male volunteers to ensure those young hot blooded youth are are stopped from wooing maids when parents are away?

Wanaume! Stand up and get counted. Let us see who gets home before his children are asleep at least three days every week. Who goes out with his woman at least once a month, how many have volunteered at the local school or church to train/ advice youth; anyone who has personally taken up the task of thorough cleaning his home as a gift to a tired girlfriend or wife…recently given your woman a total makeover (salon, dresses, shoes, handbags, manicure, pedicure) as a gift? Is this asking too much? do you imagine insisting on everybody in your house saying prayers before a meal, or eating together, or saying thank you to whoever cooked and doing your own share of housework to give your woman(and housemaid) a total day or rest , is asking for too much? Think Again.

We have all been to houses that are literally falling apart because of lack of repairs. Minor repairs. Many men, will afford to spend thousands on personal fun activities, but will fail to buy a tin of paint worth hundreds only, for their houses. It is so cheap to engage a few volunteers, for the price of a meal, to help one clean up his house and surrounding. Three men getting together and a couple of hundred shillings, can clear a lot of sewerage blockages I have seen. I haven’t come across men more hardworking, ingenious and determined like a Kenyan man with a mission. Ok, Americans are quite something else, but Kenyan men still take the cup for ingenuity.

However, because of lack of chivalry, we are making a name as a nation of lazy bozos, inhumane souls and plundering goons. (Note: I am trying to be civil here…..) It is sad how lack of one virtue can cause so much malaise in a society. Heaven’s first law is order- and as sure as we are made in the image of God, we are not going to go anywhere good, without order. Good virtues dictate an orderly manner of living. I am of the old school, which believes that the man’s position is head of house. The reason God forgives us, is so that we in turn may keep forgiving one another. There is still opportunity for positive change. I wish to see my sons grow up to have chivalry as a habit. It’s getting that harder for me to guide them this way, because there are that fewer examples to show them.
I look forward to the day when I can go out on a first date without fear of a man groping at me or asking for sex. A day when I can go for a girl’s day out and majority of what I hear are praises about the men who are seeing and living with my friends. A time when I will keep get positively surprised at a clear drainage, not necessarily done by “kazi kwa vijana” troops. Will it be possible that a day will come when any slum will have a toilet for every single block of shacks? Surely I cannot be dreaming, to imagine that some day soon, my brothers might be known to physically haul out our underage sons from brothels and bars, purely out of desire to maintain order in society? I have a dream that all this will come to be. For the sake of a better tomorrow for my three beloved, I will dare to dream.

Having growing sons myself makes me see a lot of boyishness in all these grown men. They are all so good and hopeful within. Their dreams are currently tethered by frustrations, stress, shattered ambitions and bad habits. Nothing frees a body and mind like some “kazi kwa bidii” (good hard work).It is the magic that keeps women going strong and able to multitask. When a body is busy at work, there is little room for negative thoughts, and a lot of room is created for opportunity to do something more challenging and accomplish it.

Someone stand up for me?

Scratch Mine, I’ll Scratch Yours

lawrence — Fri, 12 Feb 2010 06:20:40 +0000

The season of giving is finally here! Well, at least for me. A time to sow what I shall hopefully reap before Christmas comes around. Boy, do I dread Valentine’s Day.

I’m not much of a genius when it comes to relationships and romance. This probably explains why I have never in my dating life, celebrated two consecutive Valentines with the same love bird. Of course when my friends inquire about this statistic, I proudly declare that there are too many bird species in the wild for me to hold on to one for too long. I then boastfully add that if not for the stringent rules governing the Guinness book of World Records, I should have already broken some record related to the most number of women dated in a year. Then I order another round of drinks to that effect.

Truth is, I sincerely would want to last a couple of years in one relationship, if only to quell the curiosity that has built up inside me over the years. How is it? How do they handle the fights? How to they deal with the boredom? Don’t they run out of stories to tell? After the initial excitement run’s out, how do they keep the fire burning? If only there was a manual for this romance thing.

Daisy and I, we are doing great. It’s been six months, so as you can imagine, my fingers are really crossed right now.

Last year, I started off with a resolution to be truthful, sincere and natural. I know that’s mostly repetition but I really was committed to the cause. One of my girl friends had fed me some garbage about how being sincere was the key to lasting relationships. I trusted her.

So on Valentine’s day, sitting under the moonlight at a weekend getaway with my special one at the time, cuddling while admiring the stars, she brought up this crazy idea about us telling each other one thing about the other, that we had never mentioned before. Sincerity Lawrence, I reminded myself.

Well, she went first of course, saying something about my never staring at her chest region even when she has put some extra effort at parading her goodies. I couldn’t help but laugh heartily at her sheepish sincerity. I then told her that unlike many in my species, I had mastered the art of ogling without being caught, which is true.

Then it was my turn.

Since my potential future lover is probably reading this, I will not display my utter stupidity before I even meet her. So sorry to disappoint you. All I can share with you dear reader is that, looking at it in retrospect, I should never have listened to that girl friend of mine’s gibberish about being truthful in a relationship. I got dumped for a sincere comment.

This year, my resolution was to only sustain relationships, romantic or otherwise, that are mutually beneficial. Another girl friend of mine told me that a better way to a lasting relationship is if both parties realize that romance is a two way street. You scratch mine, I scratch yours, she said. I decided to give it a go.

Frankly, I like it so far. A give and take relationship, with no obligation to sincerity. Daisy says she has a surprise for me this Valentine’s. I told her I have a surprise too, but I still have no clue what to do or get for her. Should it be simple? Should it be a Grand gesture of Love? What if she gets me something awesome and all I have is something nice? What if I get her something totally stupid? And get my a** dumped again on Valentine’s? Seriously, is there a manual out there for this romance thing? I’ll give anything for it, even half my kingdom.

I wish all men all the luck this Valentine’s day.

Women and relationship self help books

admin — Mon, 01 Feb 2010 07:21:59 +0000

Do your bookshelves heave with self-help books or do you prefer the trial and error approach to love and relationships?

With over two thousand self help books being published around the world every year, there is a plethora of books available for women needing relationship advice. Some of them are fabulous, some are indifferent and others are positively harmful.

The titles of some of the very popular books range from blunt ones like ‘Catch him and Keep him’, and ‘What every woman must know about her man’ to more subtle titles like ‘Capturing the heart of Mr. Right’, and ‘The good wife’s guide’.

Each of these books promise you tips on how to have your man eating off your palm, how to get him to sign on the dotted line …and the list goes on. And if you have been ruined by all the self help books you have read before, the next one promises to change that by offering you ‘tried and tested success tips’.

But as you begin to read on, the self proclaimed relationship gurus fill your head with an array of ideas and soon you are throwing out your cook-books because you are learning that apparently, unlike what our mothers had us believe, the way to a man’s heart has nothing to do with his stomach.

That simple rule that had promised you the gate pass to a happily-ever- after with your mister right in exchange for your steaming home cooked meals, is quickly nullified and in its place you are left with thousands of do’s and don’ts to master.

But how do you master all these relationship rules and regulations and simultaneously pay attention to your relationship?

It pains me even more to realize that there aren’t as many books for men, teaching them about women, as there are for women teaching us about men. Either our brothers have already figured out what we want and how to give it to us (or how to and get away with not giving it to us) or they know better than to look for pointers from ‘experts’ who get served with divorce papers as soon as their books hit the bookstores.

The truth is; many things come with a user’s guides but relationships are not one of them. That’s probably because we do not need the user’s guides to help us understand and co-exist with our male counterparts.

Unlike what the self proclaimed relationship gurus may like to have you believe, men are not from mars and women are not from Venus. We are all from earth and we can figure each other out so deal with it.

Another fact is that all men are not the same, and coming up with one manual that fits all is overwhelmingly unrealistic.

Every relationship is unique and has its unique circumstances. The trick is to understand your partner and know what makes him tick, and the real fun in any relationship is in figuring that out. So do not let the relationship ‘experts’ take the fun away by mapping out your relationship for you and telling you what turn to take at every single crossroad.

Trying to manipulate your partner using time tested theories and ideologies is a perfect recipe for disaster. Instead, spend time with your partner and get to know each other. Explore your partner’s personality and find out what upsets him and what cheers him up. And when the tough times come- and they definitely will- figure out a solution together.

Remember that no amount of third party assistance will fix your relationship. The marriage counselors and the relationship experts were not there when your man was tuning you. Only the two of you know how it all begun and only the two of you can figure out what works best for you.

Of Men vs Women [Part 2]

lawrence — Thu, 21 Jan 2010 06:00:02 +0000

Kamau is attracted to a woman named Diana. He asks her out to a movie; she accepts; they have a pretty good time. A few nights later he asks her out to dinner, and again they enjoy themselves. They continue to see each other regularly, and after a while neither one of them is seeing anybody else.

And then, one evening when they’re driving home, a thought occurs to Diana, and, without really thinking, she says it aloud: “Do you realize that, as of tonight, we’ve been seeing each other for exactly six months?”

“Really!?” exclaims Kamau.

And then there is silence in the car. To Diana, it seems like a very loud silence. She thinks to herself: “I wonder if it bothers him that I said that. Maybe he thinks I’m trying to push him into some kind of obligation that he isn’t ready for, or isn’t sure of yet.”

And Kamau is thinking: “Gosh. Six months!”

And Diana is thinking: “But, hey, I’m not so sure what kind of relationship this is, either. Sometimes I wish I had a little more space, so I’d have time to think about whether I really want us to keep going the way we are, moving steadily toward . . . I mean, where are we going? Are we just going to keep seeing each other at this level of intimacy? Are we heading toward marriage? Toward children? Toward a lifetime together? Am I ready for that level of commitment? Do I really even know Kamau that well?”

And Kamau is thinking: . . . “so that means it was . . . let’s see . …February when we started going out, which was right after I had the car at the dealer’s, which means . . . let me check the odometer . . .Whoa! I am way overdue for an oil change here!”

And Diana is thinking: “He’s upset. I can see it on his face. Hold on, maybe I’m reading this completely wrong. Maybe he wants more from our relationship, more intimacy, more commitment; maybe he has sensed — even before I sensed it — that I was feeling some reservations. Yes, I bet that’s it. That’s why he’s so reluctant to say anything about his own feelings. He’s afraid of being rejected.”

And Kamau is thinking: “And I’ll have them look at the transmission again. I don’t care what those morons say, it’s still not changing gear right. And they better not try to blame it on the rains this time. What rain? This thing is changing like a damn rubbish truck, and I paid those incompetent thieves 40,000 bob!”

And Diana is thinking: “He’s angry. And I don’t blame him. I’d be angry, too. God, I feel so guilty, putting him on the spot like this, but I can’t help the way I feel. I’m just not sure.”

And Kamau is thinking: “They’ll probably say it’s only a 90-day warranty. That’s exactly what they’ll say, the scum balls!!”

And Diana is thinking: “Maybe I’m just too idealistic, waiting for a knight to come riding up on his white horse, when I’m sitting right next to a perfectly good person, a person I enjoy being with, a person I truly do care about, a person who seems to truly care about me. “

And Kamau is thinking: “Warranty? They want a warranty? I’ll give them a damn warranty. I’ll take their warranty and stick it right up their……”

“Kamau, Kama, …..Kamau!” Diana says aloud after several attempts.

“What!? Sorry, I was uhm…” says Kamau, startled.

“Please don’t torture yourself. Im sorry I said that.” she says, her eyes vaguely misty. “Maybe I should never have … Oh God, I feel so ….” She sighs, on the verge of sobbing.

“What?” says Kamau, utterly confused.

“I’m such a fool,” Diana says. “I mean, I don’t expect you to be a knight … I know there’s no knight. I really know that. It’s silly. There’s no knight, and there’s no horse, right?”

“There’s no horse!?” says Kamau, now more lost than ever.

“You think I’m a fool, don’t you?” Diana says.

“No!” says Kamau, glad to finally know the correct answer.

“It’s just that . . . It’s that I . . . I need some time,” Diana says.

(There is a 15-second pause while Kamau, thinking as fast as he can, tries to come up with a safe response. Finally he comes up with one that he thinks might work.)

“Yes,” he says.

(Diana, deeply moved, touches his hand.)

“Oh, Kama, do you really feel that way?” she says.

“What way?” asks Kamau.

“That way about time,” says Diana.

“Oh,” says Kamau. “Yes.”

(Diana turns to face him and gazes deeply into his eyes, causing him to become very nervous about what she might say next, especially if it involves a horse. At last she speaks.)

“Thank you dear,” she says.

“Uhm…You are welcome” says Kamau.

Then he drops her home.

She lies on her bed, a conflicted, tortured soul, whereas when Kamau gets back to his place, he opens a bag of chips, turns on the TV, and immediately becomes deeply engrossed in a late night thriller movie.

A tiny voice in the far recesses of his mind tells him that something major was going on back there in the car, but he doesn’t understand what, and so he figures it’s better if he doesn’t think about it.

The next day Diana will call her closest friend, or perhaps two of them, and they will talk about this situation for six straight hours. In painstaking detail, they will analyze everything she said and everything he said, going over it time and time again, exploring every word, expression, and gesture for nuances of meaning, considering every possible ramification. They will continue to discuss this subject, off and on, for weeks, never reaching any definite conclusions, but never getting bored with it, either.

Meanwhile, Kamau, while in the Gym one day with a mutual friend of his and Diana’s, will pause just before lifting his dumbbells, frown, and say: “Peter, did Diana ever own a horse?’

Happy 2010!

Other articles in this series
Of Men vs Women [Part 1]
Of Men vs Women [Part 2]
Of Men vs Women [Part 3]
Of Men vs Women [Part 4]

Men are hunters and women are…gatherers

crystal — Mon, 04 Jan 2010 06:00:01 +0000

I heard that quote on Isidingo, and it got me thinking. At the end of the day, despite feminism, liberalism, and all the other -isms, the average man still prefers to catch his own meat. Never mind that once they catch it, they take a bite, get bored, and look for new prey. As one man said on Nini’s show, “It’s like a dog chasing a cat. What does it do with it once it catches it?”

The thrill, apparently, is in the chase. So, logically, if you want to keep enjoying the attention, chocolate, late night calls and general adoration, well girls, don’t get caught. Which goes back to playing hard to get. This is a classic case of FCT – Fox Chasing Tail.

Now mind you, here I refer to the average man. There are a few men out there who don’t mind having girls chase them. And there a lots of above-average women who are actually willing to chase! But until we can consistently get these exceptional people in the same time frame, we have to play by everyone else’s (average) rules. Guys chase, gilrs run, guys catch girls, guys get bored and chase other girls.

Unless of course we 21st century girls can pull a rabbit out of our hats. Theoretically, if we can find a way to chase without chasing, we’re set. What if a girl can get a guy to ask her out without him knowing it’s her idea? Theoretically sound, but how? And I don’t mean the dropping handkerchiefs – licking lips – casual conversation routine. It has to be subtle. He shouldn’t recognize what you’re doing.

There’s a movie with Mandy Moore (I forget the name) where a guy says
“When I ask you out, you’ll think you’re asking me out.”
“You want to go out with me?”
“See, what did I tell you?”

I want to meet the guy who wrote that script. But seriously ladies, if we could just figure out how to pull that on guys, we’re one step closer to the prize. If any of you figures out how, help me!!

The “Church Girl, Church Guy” Phenomenon

bailey — Thu, 24 Dec 2009 06:00:33 +0000

A phenomenon that I have always heard about recently came knocking at my door. I never used to believe the “rumors” that guys go to church to look for nice Christian girls to marry or date or whatever, well, that was until it happened to me.

See, I am your average church girl. I grew up in church, I go to church, I am involved in church, I talk about church…really, I am a church girl.

This is not necessarily a good thing, according to some. Family members and random acquaintances used to warn me…as much as you go to church, watch out for those church men.

Huh?

Why?

I have never dated one and the guys I have dated or “dated” have never been church guys. And granted, they were nothing to write home about, many hurt me and with many I found out we had nothing in common and nothing worth building a future on, after all the pixie dust and starry eyes had worn off and grown dim.

So what could be worse, church guys? I think not!

Anyway, so I met a church guy. Boy, was I excited! Finally I get to meet someone who speaks my language!

NOT!

Suffice it to say I learnt that not all church guys are really there for church. Some are there to score. Period.

My dear fellow church girls, watch out.

I have even heard crazy stories of guys who, once they have their eyes set on a particular focused, church-going, devout mamasita, go on to volunteer for the worship team, intercessors fellowship and Bible study ministry.

I once heard of a guy who borrowed his girl’s Bible once and proceeded to highlight all her favorite verses that she had highlighted in his own Bible. So the next time they met and the girl happened to look at the guy’s Bible, she was more than overjoyed to find that they shared a love for the exact same Bible verses. It must have been fate, nay, divine intervention!

Yeah right.

I’m not saying all church guys are fake. Some are really devout and serious. Sadly, those ones are either married or engaged.

I’m just saying, the myth that there are girls who are dated and those who get married is not a myth. It’s a cold truth. That’s why strange guys are “converting” and flocking in churches nowadays.

Somewhere along the way, all we can do is hope that somehow God transforms them, even in their deception.

Meanwhile, church girls, watch and pray!

A Bigger Hug

emanon1 — Fri, 18 Dec 2009 06:32:39 +0000

Sometime back, Churchill King’ang’i and Maina wa Kageni were on about whether or not single women above thirty “kidu”-something- get miserably lonely and need to have a man. As usual I was listening to the first part of this twosome breakfast show, while in the bus on my way to work. King’ang’i was having a good time rubbishing all those single ladies calling in to claim their long and/or new found joyous loneliness, and Maina as usual was adding “kudos’” to those same sisters.

Things got heated when the talk got to “pia those over 40”. That King’ang’i …..I have given him a wanted. Churchill, stand warned. Utapatikana. Eeniwe, this here me girl, is forty something. Granted, I could do well with having a good, well mannered, rich, mature, respectable, church going, God Fearing, sober, non-smoking, well spoken and extremely well educated, jocular and hard working man. Actually if I dare say so, so could well, all of my girlfriends who are my age mates. Why not? Majority of us “forty Kidus” have children. None of these are from a holy conception.

Just for one small issue. Where is this man? Please, please, note that I did not describe a perfect man. Note that I did not ask that he can be tall, handsome, or the most wonderful surrogate or adopted “Baby daddy” of my three loves- Miss D, Sonny and my baby. Neither did I state that he be able to help in housework, or cook for us, or pick and arrange his socks and what nots. Neither too is there mention or hope for kind, understanding, helpful, considerate and non interfering “horrors-in-law”. I will take them as they come-mad, nosey pokey, irritating habits and all. Not all relatives can be as perfect as ours (snigger).

In the TV show, “How to get rich” they have an opener…”Show me the money!”

Listen up you all… “Show me the man!” It’s amazing. Of course man and woman are made to be together. None more in youth than in older age. It is just that marriage is so hard in these times. My regret is that impunity has crept into all aspects of our lives. Men cheat on wives and girlfriends with impunity. What are our sons to learn from all this? It is no wonder that son’s born and/or bred in single parent homes, especially with or by their mothers, whether for part or all their lives, are increasingly becoming the preferred, more sought after and better behaved men.

There is, in my opinion, no argument about whether or not women need men. We do. So, so much. However, and we must thank God‘s gracious mercy upon humankind for this; a woman will need a man only so long as their togetherness, is not portended or seen to be dangerous to the survival and progress of herself and that of family- namely, their/ her children. Therein lies the crux of the matter. Most men-read African- have absolutely no scruples about suddenly and without provocation or warning, endangering themselves, their woman and anybody else, in pursuit of carnal pleasure and drink. Yes, again my two cents, and in that order of preference by majority. Oh how rich Africa would be, if these vile deeds were substituted with Endeavour of happiness and development!

Enter Africa’s woman. Empowered with a hard working demeanor, sometimes an education, principles of societal well being and good housekeeping instilled in her. Brought up to offer respect and subservience to her man, in return for a good standing in society, tender care and a life of stability and protection from her man and his family. All things considered, the African woman is as ready, willing and capable to strive and help her man in shared responsibility, as long as he cares, is tender and protects her TOGETHER with his family. African man my brother, I bow down to you, if you have done this to and for your woman. I also stand firm in my two cent assertion, that if your African woman has shown you disrespect, you have failed to do only one of the few things mentioned above.

The entire hullabaloo I hear about me and my sisters being single “*&^ %( **s”, is just all that – hullabaloo. The impunity with which our men have stood us up and their/our children to boot, is despicable. Again, you must thank God for us-The African woman. We, who have elected to ignore that insult and injury, and still go ahead, take care of our loves -through thick and thin- and dare to hope again for love and respect, and tender care, and a life of………..etc
Miss D is now only eighteen, and has already been initiated to the woes of an African woman courtesy of this impunity of our men. It serves a lesson to Sonny, whose allegiance is to his sister. Sonny clearly knows that any show of such impunity in our home, would be met with…..no understanding. My baby, who will soon get to puberty, is watching too. Constantly re-evaluating his opinion and habit, to best suit and please that of his mother and sister. Life is teaching us all. The common way is not the good way. I must stay positive. I constantly hug my baby. Big boy that he is now. I love my three loves. It doesn’t stop me wishing I had a bigger hug. Someone to tell my problems and get not only a listening ear, but also a solution. A man to help me father my three loves, to share in our joys, to give us new joys. Someone whom we will so gladly show off to our myriad of friends and family, whom we will cheer up too. I need all this and more. I and as many of my sisters in similar situation in Africa, need a man. What is there to argue about this?

But…..Lord have mercy upon any man , who dare come in like a wolf in sheep’s clothing, to lay bare for slaughter, all this .Out of acts of impunity, a man will throw all this to disarray. We are not mad. No matter how bizarre a woman’s behavior may seem to the onlookers upon dejection or rejection by a man, on closer scrutiny, you may be shocked at what has befallen her. This is why we African women will “go wild” even insane in talk, behavior and other reaction, after a breakup; only to sober and cool off later. It is the shock of realization that beats us. I cannot even begin to say to what levels some men risk our lives and those of their/our children and families, our happiness, our ability to progress or even barely survive, in exchange of often temporary satisfactions and joys.

Mercifully, love truly is the greatest of all. Love still manges to creep in past all the hurt and wronging and bitterness, to again bring hope and happiness. For the sake of my three loves, I look forward to getting a bigger hug sometime soon.

Photo by Pulse Magazine

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The Big O

missdharma — Tue, 15 Dec 2009 06:00:55 +0000

So Lady Love has been quiet for some time but guess what I must say that it is for the better. This is because it has been a time for me to read research and practice, practice, practice.

I feel obliged to ask this question. Knowing well that sex education is important in our society following that teens are doing what has forever been our “adults only “indulgence. My question is, do fireworks go off when you have your big O? Or can we comfortably say that something just a little tingly feeling happens when you have an orgasm or just a new feeling of enthusiasm nothing big or major. Whichever category you fall in, you are perfectly normal.

As I said I have been away doing a little discovering, thanks to Google and my ob-gyn,I learnt a couple of secrets that I would really like to share with you. At this point I would like to issue a disclaimer that you must must must add a personal element or a touch of your own personality.

1. HIT IT
We all know that where there is a lot of friction, a fire may ignite. This is the same thing that happens when it comes to sex. Friction ultimately leads to the ultimate sin.

TIP: Get on top. It is easier to direct your partner to your g-spot.

2. TALK THE TALK
Whoever said men are dogs was not so wrong. No offence to our brothers, but men sure can take direction. So please do not shy away in telling him where you want him to touch you and when it feels good please give the champ a Scooby snack and tell him he has just won gold in the sexathon.

TIP: Be real. In fact be as real as you can. If it feels good, say it! Say it nicely, softly and excitedly.

3. DELAY THE PLEASURE
It’s true that the longer the buildup, the bigger the explosion, ask sexologist Getrude Mungai. Work yourselves as close to an orgasm as you can and then, believe it or not, slow it down to a simmer.

TIP: Breathe. Both of you. Breathe deep and from the bottom of your belly. This way you get to use as little energy thus helping you save up on the energy you will need to finish the race.

4. GET CREATIVE
Make foreplay as interesting and unconventional as you can. Try different things. Let your man know that one hour of begging is not foreplay…I read this from a note in face book.

TIP: Use sex foods such as chocolate or oysters to build up your sex hormones.

5. RELAX
According to health magazine, a study carried out in France that included 500 French women established that 70% of women confessed that work related stress compromised their sex drive. As you may know, when your libido is low, chances of you getting an orgasm are reduced.

TIP: Leave you stresses at the office. Talk only about the good things that happened in your day.

Once again my dear readers, that’s all I have. Feel free to add on your experiences and tips and yeah…your experiences. I said that twice!

For richer or for poorer

wacumureithi — Fri, 04 Dec 2009 06:00:16 +0000

Whoever came up with the marital vows must have been a very ignorant person. He must have been so absolutely oblivious of the entire world, including the person he must have written them for, to come up with such stark nonsense.

I admit, the words could get to you, if you’re twelve and you don’t know anything about what the world is about. A poet like me could appreciate them too I suppose…but am not that blind. There must be meaning in my poetry, life experience so to speak. Write what I know is the one motto I follow to this day.

From the beginning of time, well at least after the first family (Eve, Adam and their twin sons), it is a well known fact that marriages were about money. Your clan could only betroth you to someone who brought something to the family, be it money or a good name. So who the hell was this bugger pretending to be self righteous enough to come up with those words? My only other conclusion could be that he was a big fat liar. That poor girl being lied to!! I feel sorry for her when I think of it.

My sister came up with this theory, if you marry a Kikuyu woman; at least you know what the terms of the contract will be to the end. She will never leave you of her own volition unless you go broke. The sort of broke that makes it impossible for her to keep up with the lifestyle she was used to while you had buck. It doesn’t matter that she came from nothing herself.

With a Kikuyu woman there won’t be any of that breaking a man’s spirit down that we hear so very often on morning radio of women making their men wash the house with a duster. She will just up and leave you. No stories! No lies! Sweetie you’re a broke ass- I have got to leave your ass honesty!

The funny part about her however, she will get married to the guy next door, or at least have an affair with him. Literally!! That guy you play golf with, the one you down your tuskers with at the local. Yeah that one!! He wouldn’t be rolling with you if he didn’t have as much money as you. It’s a fact. It’s only rational that’s where she will start from.

I am a Kikuyu mind you. And as much as this trashes me, I think it might be a good thing!! I am not keeping up with no broke man for nothing. I have a lifestyle to live up to, kids to take care of. If I have enough money to go it alone, what am I doing paying for your alcohol? Imagine me opening my handbag in the morning to give you some cash to fuel your car. It’s preposterous!! If I were you I would rather walk everywhere I go.

I saw this in a movie once, a couple was having dinner at a restaurant and the guy wanted to pay with a credit card. All his cards were rejected! So he asks his date to get the bill this one time. He was actually a really rich guy mind you. His accounts had just been frozen for some reason I won’t get into. The moment he utters those words, the chick started to laugh. Then she said, “Seriously! You want me to pay for dinner?” She just took her bag and walked out laughing.

It‘s brutal and would be funny if you’re watching it in real life. But ladies take a note of this, THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT YOU SHOULD DO IF IT WERE YOU. Not in that same scenario, you’re bright people you know what I mean.

The second part of my sister’s theory is that other women from other tribes, especially when they’re not Bantus. They lie to you from day one. You have no idea how she will react when you suddenly go broke. Maybe she will run off with the kids. Maybe she will make you wash the house with an old t-shirt. Maybe she will kill you! Maybe she will humiliate you in front of all your friends…There are so many possibilities.

As a kikuyu woman, I have this to end with …for richer or for poorer…isn’t ever going to come out of my mouth when I marry anyone. We will probably have to write our own vows if the priest doesn’t let me sever that part from the vows. That’s just how I see it.

My boyfriend said something to me a while back, its something to the effect- “Sweetie, if you ever cheat on me, let it not be with college boys! I would feel insulted that you had sex with someone who gives you nothing but a toss in the hay. If you ever do let it be someone who by rank is above me. Otherwise I will break his neck.” I live by his words. They keep me quite honest. The only person I can cheat on him with in effect is probably just the president himself! No, he is not an MP!! He is someone way above them in the diplomatic world.

The kind of men we women want

missdharma — Mon, 23 Nov 2009 06:00:01 +0000

A lot has been said about finding the ideal mate and yet many of my girlfriends including me, always complain about the men or man in our lives. So what kind of homosapien are we really looking to find or even better hoping to spend eternity with?

CONFIDENT
In the book Act like a lady, think like a man, Steve Harvey says that men look for a woman who will hold his hand tighter when usher passes by all sexy and sweaty with money dropping from his pockets and still say,”baby, You are the man!!” the same way we want a man who knows that he is all that and a bag of chips but is subtle in showing it. Yes a confident man will always get the vote even if he is good-looking from far or far from good looking. So we can all agree that confidence is a priority in our list.

IN CONTROL-BUT NOT A CONTROL FREAK
My life is not your remote control. Period. Control freaks, are just that freaks. As much as being a man makes you the head of the relationship, this does not mean that the lady beside you ceases to exist. I enjoy it when my man picks out what I should wear for our special day out, but can you imagine if he chose to pick out my entire wardrobe? I must say that there is a very thin line between being in control and being a control freak because overdoing an act simply tips you over to the weirdo side we do not want to date.

UNPREDICTABLE
If you were able to know what you will be doing ten years from today or even what God has in store for you for the rest of your life, would there be any thrill about being alive? The same way I wouldn’t want to pick up my phone, with my well manicured finger on the receive button each and every hour knowing that you are going to call. Jamie Foxx sings about being unpredictable. Ladies, if your man is the opposite, please get him get him the song. I like when a man lets my mind wander as to what he is going to do next, even the next minute after hearing from him is a complete surprise. This not only keeps the flame burning but ensures that the excitement never dies.

REALISTIC
Sweetheart, be as real as you can. You must first of all understand the kind of woman you are dating. This helps you know where you are. Ladies, you must also understand the kind of man you are dating, if he is broke kick his ass to the curb, if you know you are high maintenance. Otherwise you will have problems that only exist in Mexican telenovelas. My friend was telling me a story about how this guy took her out to a super expensive restaurant, and bought her a super delicious-burn-out-your-wallet-diner only for him to order a glass of water for himself!! She is wise never went out with his sorry-hungry self again. The little things make the biggest impact. A take out joint in the city center that smells of a concoction of oil and fried chicken can just turn out to be Zen Garden as long as you both know that is what works out for you.

A BAD BOY
This is not your mungiki type of man, but a man who wears the sign, I am a man baby!! This is the kind of guy who will tell me my ass looks super fine in my work uniform, or send me a text saying what he would like to do after I get off work or school. I am not talking the lovey-dovey stuff like” I will rub your toes” but more like “I will kiss you till your toes curl” a bad nasty faithful guy will never miss out on the cookie if you know what I mean.

So I left the other blanks for all you gorgeous lily women to fill and tell us more in the comments about the kind of men you want. He may just be reading!!

The A Word

bailey — Mon, 16 Nov 2009 06:21:33 +0000

Adultery.

We judge and sneer at those who indulge in it, but we haven’t been there…at least those of us who aren’t married. I watched (well, not the whole of it but nearly half of) a movie called Derailed starring Jennifer Aniston and Clive Owen and I saw the reality of cheating. It’s so easy to look elsewhere when home is no longer a peaceful place to be and your spouse no longer the angel you married. People have problems….sick children who drain every ounce of energy from their parents making it nearly impossible for them to have any alone time together causing their marriage to suffer. Or when one spouse is always away working. Or for whatever reason because marriage is hard work.

So you meet someone, a chance meeting even. You click, he/she gets you. She/he likes the annoying music your spouse doesn’t like. He/she gets your sense of humour that your spouse has never appreciated. He/she is a breath of fresh air; a haven amidst all the drama in your life and family.

So, as a human being, what do you do?

You pursue happiness. You want more than you can have.

And so you keep meeting this “breath-of-fresh-air” more and more. You “work late” more and more. And the guilt increases but you’re in deep.

And the rest as we know is history.

Don’t get me wrong, I am not advocating for cheating. I get stark raving mad when I even hear a boyfriend cheated on his girlfriend, so leave alone a spouse.

I’m just saying it can happen to any and the best of us. We are just weak and human like that. Forbidden fruit tastes sweetest.

But using the example of Adam and Eve and the forbidden fruit, what did God say to them? He told them there was a tree in the centre of the Garden of Eden and not to eat from it. He did not point at it and say “see that lovely tree over there? The one with the enticing, succulent fruit? Those fruits that look so deliciously mouth-watering? Don’t eat those.”

No.

I’m guessing they had never even seen the tree.

He just warned them not to eat from it.

So, I’m thinking, don’t go there. If it’s drama at home, get away…alone, if you must. Don’t look around for better because, if all the stories I’ve heard and all the couples I have seen are anything to go by, adultery is never worth it.

It may be delicious at first, an adventure with all the thrill of not-getting-caught, but soon the truth all comes out and you ruin everyone’s life involved forever.

And the forbidden fruit does taste sweetest, but no one mentions the bitter aftertaste left in your mouth.

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