Two very hostile female first year crowds and the fool
I shouldn’t have walked into the room. It was a stupid idea. A costly mis-calculation that you live to regret the rest of your life. When you are a bearded, tall, not so handsome guy in your middling 20s in the crowd of starry-eyed first years who have already formed nasty opinions about life, you better know how to behave.
I walked into the first year female hostel rather confidently expecting to meet the beautiful lass we had been in talking terms for now quite some time with only her friend, but it turned out to be quite an unforgiving crowd.
My object of obsession is a beautiful, tall, light-skinned lady with a pair of feet that is a sight for many a sore eyes. She possess the most scandalous sense of humour in Nairobi. C’mon, when was the last time you encountered an incredibly witty young girl who is original while at it…I had met under strange circumstances.
Let us get the story. We met over lunch at the Central Catering Unit. The following day I stumbled upon her in our stop over club, in the company of her friends having mad fun. I was drunken craze and stupid. I barely recognized her. When I did, I deliberately ignored her for the simple reason that I didn’t want to look stupid when I had plans. It was all in good faith.
In one of my visits to the loo to empty the ever surging bladder, My boy Flex had dragged one of her friends to the counter and was feeding her one of those drinks that at Kshs 200 and only sold from the counter. When I was passing, Flex called me over. No sooner I stood there, than the lass asked me a small favour. A wish, given the circumstances I could have granted her but the circumstances were the least giving.
Here was a close friend to the lady I wanted to take out tempting me and here was a brother buying her shots begging me not to ‘slice’ her. I had to heed my brother’s request as well make sure that I don’t jeopardize any slim chances of nabbing my object of desire. But it happened too fast that before I could tell what had hit me, I had managed some quick snog on the friend before finding my way back to the lounge. She was watching. She didn’t find it mildly funny.
I called the willing one the following day but she told me that I had lost my chance and she wanted to know what I had going on with the other lady…Predictably I said nothing…We were to meet later. We stumbled upon each other some place in campus. It was somewhat awkward on my part, but she seemed very unconcerned. She carried that look of…”dude we do that every f****ng Friday, c’mon wassup’’.
My further propositioning hit on a wall when she asked me about my object of desire. Well for the record, I never intended to play the two. That will be the most indiscreet thing to do in the history of indiscreet things. But there is something intriguing about a woman who asks to get your groove within two seconds of meeting. Something inquisitive. I wanted to find out what but her asking about the other girl put me off.
Then I dialed the one I was after and she confronted me with the indiscreet incident at the club upfront. I blabbered something to the effect that it wasn’t me, but she had seen me and the damage was done. I had to come out clean. I had to know which side of my bread is buttered and thus I settled for her and decided pronto to drop any further plans with the other. I deleted her number pronto. She did agree to meet me and we got along just fine. They also remained friends…
Then this fateful Thursday she was in town checking out on her fellow female freshaz in campus. She told me where she was and rather than calling her down, I decided to go up and see if I can humuor her friend before we could leave to whatever destination.
I knocked and there were a shrill “come in” from inside and I bounced in. To my detriment, there were four of them. The chick I had made out was seated the closest and she pulled one of those faces that communicate 877 negative things about the person they are directed to. The other two seemed innocently unconcerned but the tension in the small room was so palpable, I swear I touched it. My subject was tucked below the decked-bed, and I thought I saw a cheeky look about her after my first few introductory words with all of them…She was enjoying the awkwardness,,how mean?????
I occasionally meet the one I had made out and I tried dropping an honest line:
“Ooh Rozy, we do met every day, it is like we stalk each other,” I said, desperately trying to be humorous…It fell flat.
“Just because we met yesterday, doesn’t mean that we meet every day….”She said rather bored and not encouraging any further question/answer thing from me.
I tried knowing the other…
“I think I have not met you…I’m Silas”, I asked with some exaggerated concern.
“I’m Kimberley,” she tells me deeply absorbed in her flashy phone…
“You are not…you are…”my girl friend(notice the gap between girl and friend) told her point blank…it was increasingly becoming a farce.
The young lasses kept fondling their phones, comparing their flashiness and I was left out. I could read their minds…or was I insecure???
I’m sure one of them was thinking…he looks tall but doesn’t have swag…(pronounce it daent).
Another one was like…look at his phone…you mean he dares walk around with a kamlika mwizi…he sucks…
Another one didn’t see me at all. My girl friend(notice the ga again)…was equally absorbed in her phone and I was left suspended in the middle of the room…
So what do you do when you are in the company of four young very hostile lasses who are doing and talking their own things; parties…I had one state she would wish to attend a white party and such. I was lost. I was bored. I hated myself. I felt inadequate. I couldn’t muster any humuor. All my comments were ignored and I was seeking an exit strategy…(look I have the keys to the pool table, si let me take them then you can call me once you done )or something as believable as such…
Being young is a beautiful thing. And being a young woman can afford you all the biases. Women are normally honest with their emotions. If they are not up to you, it is all over their faces. I can’t state how many times I’m often forced to pretend to be liking someone’s company, male or female when I actually feel like sinking my fist into one of the cheeks of the offending subject.
I learnt my lessons. If you are in the company of tough talking young women, you either try to be humorous…at your own peril or feign humility..at least they will be less harsh on their judgment.
But if you try some impression and it turns out wrong…then expect some tongue lashing gossip bordering on the shape of your head to your outdated fashion sense. And boy, women can be brutally honest…
If you are not the flashy types, you will be presumed the least loaded and the young ones don’t take up such suckers. If you are the flashy, they will invariably try to establish your net worth, using such parameters like, your willingness to spend on them…consistenly. And if you drive, what make of a car….
I never thought that four first years could squeeze sweat out of my face the way they did. But my friend, a sharp lady she is did realize my unease and we excused our selves…To this, I owe her some drinks…she did save my skin…