AN EMBARRASSINGLY GOOD TIME.

Here is the thing. If I could, I would wake up, ideally, five years into a healthy relationship because to be honest, I find the whole courtship thing a little puerile. I’d wish to skip all the bullshit. The pain, the pretense, the silly fights-
Well, here is the story of my most embarrassing memorable heartbreak; Shirly Mutendei. I called her Tina. We’ll get more into that Tina thing later.

The year was 2016. I was young and very confused about my sexuality. I liked boys, but deep down I knew that I’d end up with a girl. It was also the year I met Tina. It was at a poetry event. I’ve got to hand it to you though, the art scene carries a lot of queerness. It’s kind of a safe space for us. Artists are an open-minded and accepting lot.
I was sitting at the far end corner of the room, alone as usual with my legs crossed, in my white shorts, a blue denim shirt and my red high-cut converse knockoff sneakers. And of course, with a book in my hands.
“What are you reading?” a voice asked.
I ignored at first. Then a kick on my sneaker followed. I finally looked up and my eyes met this beautiful woman standing infront of me. She rested her left arm on her waist and talked with her right.
“Owh! Men of the South by Zukiswa Wanner.” I’d say.
She stared at me for quite a bit and smiled.
“Sorry, am I making you uncomfortable?” she asked.
I feigned a smile. “no.”
“Hey, I’m pretty and you are cute. Together we’d be pretty cute.” she’d say.
Here is what I think. Pick-up lines are the lowest form of first impressions, unless you happen to be extremely attractive.
“I’m Shirly. Shirly Mutendei. Do you mind if I sit next to you?”
I go to events alone for a reason. I want to consume all the goodness that is art without any distraction but, “sure.” I said.
We didn’t talk the entire time. I appreciated that very much. After the show I said hello to a few of my favorite poets then I began to head out. Before I could reach the door I felt a tap on my shoulder. It was Shirly.
“Do you…want to go out for some drinks? That is if you don’t have any plans.”
I don’t have any plans. I never have plans. Also, it’s on a Tuesday. And I barely drink.
I didn’t say any of that shit. Instead, I just said yes.

Keep in in mind, I am still confused about my sexuality. I have kissed a girl before but I have never been with a girl. And this was a grown-ass woman asking me out.
We took an uber to her favorite local in Kikuyu. We got there and I ran straight for the washrooms. It was almost 10pm and I needed to call my mom and let her know that I was okay and I wasn’t coming home. I’m basically an infant, remember that too.
“Hi, are you okay?” Shirly asked.
“Yeah, I am. I just needed to call my mom and let her know where I am incase you drug and kidnap me.” I said as I pulled a chair.
“Haha! You are delightful.” she said and we both laughed. She ordered us some light beers.

One More Day by Diamond Rio. A stranger was singing this masterpiece in the background, terribly. It was Karaoke Night in this place.
“This song…you know, for a long time I thought that Diamond Rio is one person until last year. I found out that it is actually a band.” I said.
Shirly looked at me in disbelief.
“What? Did I say something wrong?” I asked.
She began, “earlier today, I thought the book was just a front but now I’m starting to think that it wasn’t. How old are you?”
“22.” I’d nervously say.
“You sure strike me as a child but not as an old soul.”
“I wonder what sold me out…” I said as I sipped my beer.

She was elegant and I dressed like a little boy. She was old, worldly and wise and I was young, naive and stupid. She was smart and intriguing and I was ignorant and boring. She was passionate about music, good music and I was passionate about books and we were both passionate about poetry and art in general. I’d say that we complemented each other.

“So, how old are you?” This question hang over my head for the last four dates we had been on. I finally got the chance to ask since this time round we were in somewhere quiet and private, her apartment. The decor. Nothing screamed “I am a thirty something year old lesbian!” but I’d later come to learn that she had recently come out of her long term relationship with her boyfriend and came out as gay.
“Ugh! I’m her training wheels in this gay world.”  I thought to myself. So was she mine too. But she didn’t have to know that.
We started doing sleepovers at her place and this is how the name Tina came about. She’d blast Tina Turner every morning and dance half naked in the living room. It was her ritual. Then one day I asked her about her obessession with Tina Turner and she said, “Anna Mae Bullock aka Tina Turner is one of the sensual female artists of all time. Her powerful vocals give me energy to go about my day. She also inspired me because she was an underdog as well.”
“WOW!” I was amazed by how passionately she spoke about her, her music and music in general. So I nicknamed her Tina. I know, it is a little on the nose, even for me but who cares. I was young and infatuated.

We spent practically every weekend together for three months. She was hot and successful and I was, you know, me. So I shouldn’t have been surprised. I mean, why would someone so extraordinary like her want to be with a loser child with zero prospects like me?
We started spending less time together. She started replying to my texts hours later then days later and naive me assumed that it was just work coz she told me so. I went crazy and obessessed over her but I couldn’t tell my mom because you know, she was older and a woman. I couldn’t also tell my then bestfriend because she’d try to pray the gay away. I suffered, alone. In seven months Tina and I had broken up five times but she always had these Jedi mind tricks that she’d play to get back with me and I fucking fell for them. The sixth time was the last straw and my wake up call.

This is how it went down.
I had been complaining of being and feeling neglected, (who hasn’t), so she cleared an entire weekend to make me feel loved again. “This is romantic as shit!” my little brain thought.
Before the “romantic” weekend came to an end, I let out an “I love you.” It was not returned. Dodgeball pro alert! Go big or go home (haha, get it?). I asked her to be my girlfriend, officially. It felt like the right moment. It was not the right moment. The dodgeball all over again. Well, we didn’t go big, so I went home.
Then Sunday morning, I woke up to Usher’s Let It Burn playing in the background. I could’nt hear the words, so I ignored it. Then Monday morning, I woke up to the song in full blast!
I had to go see someone.
“How many partners do you have?” the someone asked.
“Oh, shit!” I thought to myself. “Just one…” I said with a tremor in my voice.
“Well, it seems like you have an STD,” he told me.

LET. IT. BURN! Turns out Tina had so much love in her that she couldn’t help but spread it around.

ONE NIGHT STAND GONE GOOD?

“I loathe this city.” Talia said as she looked outside through Wachira’s apartment’s window with her arms crossed to her chest.
“Why? It’s your home.” Wachira said. He stood at the door with his hands on his waist.
“Okay, ‘loathe’ is a bit harsh. I do not like it much sometimes. I mean, I see the potential, the vibrancy, but mostly I see the decay, the adultery- like what we are about to do right now.” she turned around and feigned a smile.
“Well, that’s Nairobi city for you. I do not loathe it though. This is where I thrive.” Wachira chuckled as he walked towards her.

They had met earlier at a single’s bar, had a sexual vibe and went home together.

Wachira is a 42 year old man who looks 25. He is a local business entreprenuer from a wealthy family but he doesn’t like that part advertised. He says that his roots will rob him of his authenticity.
Talia is 26, very vibrant, a true Nairobian girl. She is currently doing her Software Engineering degree in Kenyatta University. She is not from a rich family, but she doesn’t show or let it affect her much. She is laser-focused on her future.

“So…what should we do?” Wachira wrapped his arms around Talia’s waist. She is very attractive. Great figure and a terrific ass. Wachira could swear that he gasped the moment he spotted her in the bar. The lights were dim but he could feel her energy on the dance floor. She seemed like one of those rare people who find happiness in the most mundane things and moments.

“I am too sober for this. I might need three to six shots of something before we do anything.” Talia would say.

Wachira started to his little liquor cabinet in the kitchen area. It was an open plan apartment. Talia’s eyes wandered around. There was nothing personal here. Nothing told you anything about the room’s inhabitant. The only thing that spoke ‘personality’ was that liquor cabinet they were about to raid. She wondered if this was where this sexy man lived or murdered people. “Most serial killers are very hot, right?” she thought to herself.

Her thoughts were disrupted.

“Hey, babe. Whiskey or gin?” Wachira shouted as he scavenged through the cabinet.
“Babe? You move too fast. Slow your roll champion. We haven’t even gotten to the first base yet.” Talia said sacarstically.
He turned while holding a bottle of Glenfiddich, 30 years old, on his left hand and two glasses on his right. Their eyes met. It was a little mortifying for him, but they laughed it off. “Well, I guess whiskey.” Talia said.

They both sat on the couch that was stationed in the middle of the room facing the tv.
“Should we do the 21 questions thing?”
“God, you are such a baby. People still do that?” Wachira asked.
Talia punched his arm and smiled. “Yes, we still do that,” she winked.

Wachira had been with so many young women before but there was something about this one. He couldn’t exactly pin it but he would by the end of the night. Usually, he’d pick up a woman from the bar, no conversation whatsover, straight to his bed but Talia was different. She was smart and funny. She had a natural lean towards the enthusiastic which brought out his fun and boy-ish side and he liked that about her a lot.

“What’s your guilty pleasure?” Talia asked him.
“Hallmark christmas movies?” he said with a corny smirk on his face.
“What? You don’t strike me as a hopeless romantic.” she was genuinely surprised.
“Guilty!” He shrugged.

“Tell me about your wife.” Talia said.
“Wooow! Going all in. I see.” Wachira fidgeted a little and turned to look at her. She turned to face him too. This time they were three shots in. They were counting. He took a really long hard look at her and wondered if this is how she usually is or it’s just the liquor working on her. Either way, he loved it. She was not afraid to speak her mind.
‘She is riveting.’ he thought. ‘Maybe I should marry her.’

“I’m not married.”
“Finally! He speaks. I was starting to get a little worried there.” Talia shouted then smiled.

Wachira had always disdained that old clichè about a smile lighting up a room, but Talia actually did that. Her smile was contagious. It altered everything in the room and his entire being.

“Why aren’t you married? I mean, you are old enough to have a family. What’s stopping you? Or are you a serial killer? Those love to be alone.” she gasped, held her mouth with her left hand and leaned back a little for a perfect performance.

Wachira saw this coming.

“How do I answer this? How do I answer this…?” he rubbed his palms on his thighs nervously. He was quiet for a bit. Then: “Well, to me, the notion of marriage has always been a chimeric dream. For me with every prospective mate I bring in this house brings me a this-could-be-the-one hopefulness but I must say, I have realized that this borders on the delusional.” he said, then laughed. But Talia could see the underlying sadness. She chose not to pry, so she laughed with him. He knew that she knew, considering how fast she changed the subject.

“Speaking of houses. Why is yours so dull?” Talia asked.
“Oh! I don’t live here. I have a home in Muthaiga. It is sacred that’s why I choose to bring my one night stands in this apartment that I rented and only invest in liquor.”
“I’m surprised by how nonchalant you are being about this. I’m scared for my life.” Talia said with a high pitched voice and a smile. He smiled back.

“Can I use your washroom?” Talia asked.
“Sure.”

Talia wore a black bodycon dress that brought out her figure perfectly. Wachira bit his lower lip as she walked away.

She finished her business and came back.
“It’s my turn to pose the questions. What is your guilty pleasure?” Wachira asked her.
“Singing naked in my house. Beyonce, who? I’m going to give this bitch a run for her money! Oh, I don’t have a roommate incase you are wondering.” they both laughed, very loudly. At this point they were starting to turn into some whiskey marinated head cases. They had already lost count of the shots.
“That’s not a bad one. Can you sing?”
“Oh God! No.”
“And why don’t you have a boyfriend? Or am I assuming that you don’t?” Wachira asked.
“Somebody said something about some things bordering on the delusional. I’m going to quote him on this one.”
“Ha ha, using my words against me. Smart.” they both laughed and leaned on each other’s heads.

It was almost six o’clock in the morning. This was supposed to be a one night stand but they forgot about the ‘sleeping with each other part.’ They thought liquor was supposed to activate horniness but instead they talked and talked and laughed until they passed out on the couch.

When Wachira woke up around eleven o’clock, Talia wasn’t there. He wished to see her again.

I’M NOT CRAZY. I’M NOT NORMAL EITHER.

“You love drama, don’t you? It’s what turns you on, yeah?” I asked.
We were having this conversation over some beer at his house.
“I mean, I don’t necessarily enjoy peace..I find happiness in chaos, you know.” he said this with a corny smile on his face.
“You are nasty. You like nasty. Aren’t you a little old for that?” I asked this in a sultry voice.
“Come on. Don’t ruin the evening before it even begins.” he answered.
We both laughed as we sipped our cold tusker.

See, there’s a quiet defiance to him. Not the loud in-your-face, rebel without a cause type, but the subtle confidence of a determined man,  comfortable in his own skin and with a mind of his own. I always figured, though I had never met him in person before. He’s quite old, his early 50s I presume, but he’s the one you would have a chat with as you would with a peer.

“So, how old are you? If you don’t mind. I never really got to ask you this.” he said.
“26.” I answered.
“Do you have a thing for older men?” he asked.
“Yes and no.” I answered. “Yes, meaning I do but not in the way that you are trying to insinuate. I just happen to love the wisdom that comes with older people in general but mostly the ease to converse with men compared to women and no, because I see how older men prey on pretty young ladies and it disgusts me. Also, my sexual preference is totally different.” I added.
He winked and smiled to acknowledge that he completely got me.

“Okay sir, we aren’t here to talk about me. Spill the tea already.”  I said.

He had been married for fifteen years, no kids but they divorced in their enterance to the sixteenth year of marriage.

“She was too cultured.” That’s how he’d put it.

By this he meant that she was a typical African or just any other normal woman, and he wasn’t normal. He doesn’t like normal.

“15 years and no kids?” I asked with a high pitched voice.

“Yeah. Kids are great but they are a lot. People think that they are a blessing but to me they are not. They take so much from someone. Talk about energy, space, and don’t forget how mean they can be. Those little fuckers are mean to the core! She wanted them. I didn’t. I mean, why can’t it just be us? Travel, fuck, repeat, till death do us part?”

“Right. But weren’t you scared?” I asked.

“Scared of what?” he asked.

“Of walking away. I mean, 15 years is quite a long time. Sounds like almost forever to me. Also, weren’t you scared of what people were going to say? A failed marriage and a bunch of other made up shit about you.” I’d say.

“Yeah. For a moment I was. Even depressed. I’ve had multiple failures but that was my ultimate failure in my life. Made me question a lot. Like why did I even get into it in the first place? But with time I outgrew everything.” he’d answer.

“Wow! That’s so messed up. Well, to me marriage is a shit show. I’ve heard of people who cheat like it’s the end of the world and call it a ‘slip up’, people who beat up their wives up in the name of ‘putting her in her place’-  and vice versa. What the F man? Did you know that 73% of marriages end up in divorce?” I say this with a heavy sigh. “It’s a show I don’t want to be in.”

“Are you checking up marriage statistics to see if you can be in one or not? Come on kid. It doesn’t work like that. If you keep doing that you’ll die alone. Look, love is a good thing. It’s actually a great thing and so is marriage. But it needs work, patience, sacrifice and a lot more of love. You’ve got to keep feeding it kid. Grab someone, give them your all and see how beautiful that shit can be.” he said.

“Okay. I hear you. Loud and clear. Now can we go back to talking about what actually brought me here? I didn’t come for a lecture on marriage.” I said this while opening my second beer.

“Erica. How did you two meet?” I asked.

“Quite a conversation starter. I see you kid.” Then he’d go ahead and tell the story.

“I was out for my normal bottle of beer, minding my business as usual then I hear noises from behind. Bottles were flying around so was fucks and blows. I couldn’t help but look. There she was. Sexy as hell. One titty out because you know, she was the one who initiated the fight. She fucking loves starting fights. I knew right there and then that this woman, this woman can never be a mom. She was the one. I was so amused. I watched the fight with a smile on my face until she was thrown to my side by the other woman she was fighting with.”

“Hold my bra.”

You can already guess who said this.

“I was excited and in shock at the same time. I wasn’t sure if to help the situation or not but I was sure I was falling in love.”

“Two weeks later we would go on our first date. I swear I had no problem starting conversations. She is smart and with a great sense of humour, a little bit of an asshole with anger and daddy issues too but I loved it. Sooner she’d become my girlfriend. Dodging plates and cups around the house would be my thing but I don’t complain. It’s part of my daily exercise, you know. Six months down the line and my love for this lunatic grows stonger. We live together now. I’m not crazy, kid. I’m not normal either” he’d conclude.

I wish you could see my face at this point.

He is a calm and collected man anyway. Makes rational decisions too. He does deserve a little crazy in his life to spice things up.

I would crack a couple of dry jokes about the situation and our laughter would sink into the darkness.

“Let’s do this again. Let’s hangout more.” he’d say.

BE KIND TO STRANGERS, ALWAYS.

I was busy on my phone texting my friend, not anything that mattered really. Mushene tu! This other guy, infront of me, in a queue at a supermarket happened to step on me. I overreacted. I threw way too many fucks at this stranger which I truly regreted later. Not that day though.
He was tall, 6’1 I guess. He was huge too. He seemed like a rugby player but to me he was just a douchebag who had stepped on me. I was so angry. Like how could he step on my new fake black and white vans? Bro, not cool.
He did not say a word. He just looked at me and my short ass looked like a baby throwing tantrums, infront of her dad, at a supermarket!
He got attended to and left.

After a few months, guess who I meet again? This motherfucker! This time it was in a talk show. To my shock, he was the guest speaker.
A lot ran through my mind at this point. “Who the fuck is this? Couldn’t they find someone else to come and speak? What is God trying to tell me?” Yeah, I thought about God too.
Happens, that time we met at the supermarket I did not take a keen look at him. I was too busy getting mad.
He had an amputated leg, you could see it. He was in shorts this time, and his talk was about giving hope to people. He had been battling bone cancer for years, major struggles with emotional traumas and depression, but he survived. The only thing that cancer could rob him was his leg. Not his big heart nor his humuor or wit. His story was pretty sad. I must admit though, he was very smooth with the jokes. I did enjoy.

After the show I was left figuring out what to say to him. I thought to myself, “he hasn’t seen me..I should run away. We are never meeting again, right?” See, I happen to have these two voices at times, especially when making decisions. One is loud and forceful, one is soft and firm. The soft one always makes wise moves but the loud one, eh! Ego and stupidity are his best friends. I almost chose to listen to the loud one but God whispered to me, “do not fuck this up.” Okay, it might not have been Him but whoever it was, he did me a solid.
You know those little talks people have with the speaker after the actual talk show? “Ooo..you have really inspired me today.” “Ooo..I would love to attend more of your talk shows.” That kind of bs was what was happening at this time. I managed to maneuver between people, also battle smelly sweats to get to him. He recognised me. “Oh, I remember you..” and everyone was looking at me like I’m the big dog. If only they knew!

“Can I have a minute?” I asked. “Sure.” he excused himself from everyone else. “Sorry I…didn’t catch your name last time.” he said. “Technically, we have never met. My name is Anita.” I said this extending my hand to him for a shake. I had not owned ‘Desai’ at the time. I would have flaunted that one. I love it when people question my nationality but you know, this wasn’t my big moment. It didn’t feel like it at all. I was legit acting like a highschool kid who had just been sermoned to the principal’s office. It was embarrassing, but I stood my ground, and all of a sudden my ‘fucks’ turned to ‘sorrys’.
He teased me, “what happened to the bold little fucker at the supermarket?” We both laughed, and there began our forever friendship.

The thing is, always be nice. Always be kind. Whenever someone does something to you, don’t be too quick to react. See I was worried about my new fake vans zenye sai zimechapa while he had a whole leg to worry about. Be kind to strangers, always.