How and where you meet vis-à-vis relationship sustainability


Greetings class.

Today we are going to have a very important lesson on one of the commonest problems facing modern dating. The lesson should have come earlier, but it is never too late. We will be discussing the ever relevant question of whether how and where you meet your partner can determine how far the two of you go.

Your parents met in church, at the work place, grew or probably stayed in the same neighbourhood. This made it quite easier for them to run some little background check on each other. The woman could learn if the man has been the village Casanova and the man could get the sexual background of the woman rather easily. This meant that before moving in together, the two parties knew each other only too well.

Unlike your parents, you now have new avenues of meeting and forging relationships ranging from one night stands to no strings attached flings and sometimes dating seriously. These avenues include the internet, night clubs and the many colleges springing up everywhere. This means that the opportunities for interactions have gone higher exponentially and the consequences can no longer be down played.

Today, we will be discussing the internet and the night clubs as the odd avenues of meeting and trying to forge a serious relationship. The internet has more than ten utilities that encourage strangers to date but we shall limit ourselves to Facebook.

Facebook. Facebook came and the younger generation threw away privacy. Facebook is all about vanity. Facebook has given the lonely hearts an opportunity to meet other lonely hearts without necessarily paying some agency or the newspapers’ lonely heart columns.

Facebook has also introduced experimentation in relationship with total strangers. In this era of GEK (Google Enabled Knowledge ) where accessing witty quotes and posting them can make even the slowest pass for the wittiest, it is amazing how trusting the younger generation can be.

There are many people among you who have at least experimented with a Facebook relationship. I bet it was disastrous. In this age of Photoshop, you discover that she is no as hot as she looked on that raunchy photo. The pimples were not visible. The woman soon discovers, the gentleman mien on his posts don’t at all reflect his personality. He looks a pervert in every bit. Too bad that you cannot Photoshop one’s personality. I can say with certainty that very few, near nonexistent relationships that can be forged out of a Facebook interactions. Those that go on to work are the exception rather than the norm.

The reasons are obvious. Facebook interactions are based on unadulterated lies. You lie about your physical looks. The less confident about their looks can use the photo of their favourite pop star, cartoon or celebrity. Some can Photoshop and others can clip their best body parts. In terms of character, it is her word against yours and vice-versa. There is no one who can tell you that the man on the other end was responsible for the burning of schools a couple of years ago. There is no one to tell that the woman on the other end changed at least six high schools and not for religious reasons.

Once you meet and the initial shock is gone, the real characters often emerge and you soon discover that you are not compatible at all. Before you can say Facebook, it is over and you go back to search on Facebook for another gullible character. Besides, there is a rule that if someone shops at Facebook, he or she does it with long list of other people.

Let us talk about night clubs briefly. People, go to nigh clubs to drink, dance and party. But with the modernised version of one night stands that you now call chips funga, we are witnessing unlikely liaisons. It seems that you prefer experimenting with trouble. Let me make it clear…It is possible to make our politicians think and act wisely than to meet your future spouse in a club.

Many men know that women who will become good wives are not the clubbing types. It is a fact of life. It is an open secret among men that a woman you are interested in keeping should be taken to coffee joints and other places where chances of bending over are limited. They now play very bad music and the dancing in clubs is getting out of hand. If you develop an habit of taking your wife to clubs, when you settle down, she will definitely know what you will be doing or hanging out, especially when she is pregnant.

The same is true is for women. If your man is a party animal and you met in a club, be sure he has met many women in a club and definitely dated them to varied extents. You are not the luckiest. The clubbing types are adventurous. Too audacious. When a man takes your number in a club, he is 99% interested in sex. Period. By giving your number, it is partial conceding. It is a mutual unwritten rule. If a man is quick enough he can get done with you and dispense with you quicker before you know what hit you.

I must wrap up by telling you that it is important to know someone’s background, character, and sexual background in order to map out if you are compatible. If it is a relationship you are looking for, do not let desperation drive to search for a partner in the wrong place. The club and the internet only serve our spontaneous sexually gratifying desires. Nothing else. Count yourself absolutely lucky if it works.

Class dismissed.




Of screamers and SEXILES

Warning: This blog contains highly sexual content that might border on pornography. The reader’s discretion is highly encouraged if you have to read on. But out of curiosity, I know you will certainly read, anyway. No offence intended. This is a dedication to all those women who put in an effort to teach men a thing or two where it matters.Rating:PG

“Utaeza ogeza mbao nipige nduru wadhani wewe ni jogoo kamiri,”(spoken in a nice Kiuk accent:No Stereotyping or offense intended), a prostitute offers in a sexual bargaining exercise down in Koinange or elsewhere men pick.


If there are women who fully understand the sexual psychology of men, then it must be prostitutes. Even though, your typical 21 year old girl in Nairobi can astound or even scare you out of bed, the prostitute still do it better. I must put it clear from the get-go that I have never picked and I don’t intend but at my age, I’m sufficiently informed at the happenings down K-street. With that weak excuse we can get on.


At some point in his life, a man needs that wild, exhaustive sex. Just as there are very few men who can make women discover the much overrated big O, there are very few women with the requisite experience to give a man that unforgettable experience. All the men I know always cherish that one act. That one act that got them singing, begging for more. We learn to regard such women quite highly in the sexual gossip circles and secretly plan to have our fifteen seconds with her…often it ends at that wishful stage.


Most women around are masquerades. I’m far from being the SEXPERT(sic) on these matters, my dawg Machiaveli(figure him out) knows better. But I know most of the women sometimes try to recreate pornography in the bedroom,  sometimes to disastrous levels. When not reliving B-rated pornography, they are enacting the girl gossip, often to calamitous levels. And those advanced sometimes get their tips from the glossy magazines, obviously to catastrophic levels. Girls what works for Natasha, cannot necessarily work for you.


And with that we delve into one of the sectors that they keep on getting it all wrong: SCREAMING AND MOANING.

Screaming and moaning
Let us just agree that nothing augments a sexual experience like some nice, real and natural moaning in the background. It fires the man’s energy, flatters his ego and is the only possible way a woman can appreciate accordingly to the man’s thrusts. But not all the moaning is true, real or desirable.


Just like a sound track to a movie, there are certain special  effects some good moaning can bring to the bedroom. If the soundtrack is boring, it can affect the quality of the movie. I don’t know where the women in Nairobi picked this habit of deceptive moaning but it is serving men pretty wrongly.
So let us examine the reasons women moan and really scream…

1. It is good
Any woman can moan to variable degrees depending on how the man is unlocking all the pleasure points in her body. It is an art that a man has to learn. For the well hung men, the sheer size is enough to get her screaming,  awaking the whole neighbourhood. Women like size. And if size meets style, she will definitely moan accordingly and this is the sole reason some women opt to stick with some men even when the men are abusive and very unfaithful. Any woman honest to herself knows that there are certain things you cannot buy in a shop or replace easily.
Resultantly, she will constantly moan in a feeling way as only as natural as she can.
2. It is bad


Sometimes sex can be painful. It happens if the man is well hung but never went to a class of style. It happens when she runs out of lubrication. Thank goodness that the brave ones come with their own lubrication and those scented condoms…mayo! When it dries down there, it stops being funny and she can scream if the man is insistent. It is important if the man can terminate the act and invest in some exciting foreplay but most men, especially from Western Kenya don’t have that patience and can penetrate hurtfully making her scream and groan. You know, those strangulated grunts. They should not be mistaken for heroic exploits.


3. Trying to impress the man
One of the best qualities that women possess is their ability to understand the inadequacy of men and flatter our egos,  nonetheless. See, without this moaning, a man might not know exactly  how he is fairing unless he is shown some direction. When a woman moans, even if faking it, it builds a man’s confidence and he can struggle to remain atop of his game.


97% (the statistics here are pedestrian and cannot be used anywhere in class) of the women have confessed to have faked orgasms in order to impress the man.


4. To impress the man that she is feeling it too
Sometimes women know it is important to make a man feel like she is a part of the game. So she will scream just but to put the point across that she is enjoying too, not necessarily to impress the man. This more has to do with the chick feeling good even when the man is off the route completely.


All the above reasons demand that she screams. But most of the time they get it horribly wrong. Any man old enough can tell when she is faking it and it sucks. It irritates. It annoys.

Speaking of size, many men have encountered women who are well favoured down there that they can take in anything, yet they scream the most. Nothing puts off little John faster than moaning, screaming and calling names of sexual gods and demi-gods, when for all a man cares, he could be painting.


My roommate and his girlfriends
I once had this roommate. He could have been Turkana, Teso or Saboat. All I know, he was Nilotic and loved his sex. He had two girlfriends. One was white and the other from the village. It always behooved where he got the white chick. The white chick was quite shouty, take my word for it.


Often I had the feeling that she used to moan purposely to arouse me, but I have never been put off sexually than the way she used to do. Back then I was living in a semi-partitioned room in college. They used to assume that the walls were sound proof, much to my detriment.


Boy, either the man was a donkey down South, or the chick had watched too much porn. I have never witnessed live porn in my life. Her moaning was the irritating type, that most of the time I found myself seeking exile or SEXILE (to put it more appropriately) elsewhere. The fact that we never spoke with my roommate, I found him quite vain and we were never in the same intellectual sphere, didn’t help much. But that was the most punitive semester I ever underwent. The roommate left the country to a nondescript country in Europe, and most likely he is giving the whites the true African experience.


His chick from shags used to scream in mother tongue and I will save you the details, at least this blog is yet to sink that low.

Why women should not scream, unless…
Moaning ought to be real and natural. If you must, it is important to moderate and strangulate the voice as much as possible. Some shouting can scare a man into slumber. While we appreciate the efforts of massaging our egos, I take this opportunity to request that you remain real. It is not too much to ask.


PS:A much dirtier version of this piece by Machiavelli will be run in a different blog…check it out, if you feel like getting it juicier…


Is true love really possible in Campus?

Today is Valentine and I don’t expect many red dresses around. Not in the least in this campus environment where everyone has a questionable opinion on matters love. A good number of the ladies are booked for dinner and rapturous sex afterwards, I know. For some broke lads, they are busy making debts to impress their objects of desire, but predictably, some disappointment will be registered. If they won’t do it quick enough, some else will do it.


But for more than 80%, today is just Monday the 14th, Period. Some broke up recently and some are just not hitched. Those old enough and mature will regret a little but will be busy to notice the showy mannerisms that will wreck the day for obvious reasons. For the lucky few we wish you well. For the unlucky, let us take comfort in numbers. Tuko wengi.  Many men will not be fretting much.


So let us discuss love in campus for the umpteenth time, shall we?


Love. There is a quick painful ring to the word. An obvious reaction in both sexes. Something repulsive. A woman tells a man that she loves him, the man either feels cheated, trapped or suffocated, depending on the emotional character of the woman. You tell a woman that you love her, she runs a historical background to ascertain if you do not have a history of mental instability. Women hate it. In general terms, both sexes, now loathe the term.


Shall we then propose to the lexicographers (makers of dictionaries) to appropriately assign a good indicator to the word as either archaic, offensive or something like that? I digress.


I recently bumped into my ex in a night club and it was a sobering moment. Since we broke up, we had never exchanged even pleasantries for more than a minute. This night presented unique challenges. She walked in with another friend of hers and they nearly went back but I convinced them to stay. Grudgingly, they obeyed. But it meant, we had to thrive cautiously. I couldn’t ogle the raunchy dancing going on and she couldn’t dance in my presence.


I was with my close friend, Charles who was visiting and I was showing him the wild side of Nairobi. Amidst the boredom, I pulled a cigarette and started puffing. I do it every once in a while when I’m extremely bored or annoyed at something. She hated it. She hated me.


“You never even once told me that you smoke, much less drink in the entire period we dated,”
she asked me, really pissed off at my smoking.


“Well, stuff change. People change,” I said in the most philosophical and monosyllabic manner. She looked unconvinced.


We changed venue when the DJ started entertaining himself and settled in an abandoned corner in another club at the heart of the city. She was a little tipsy and within my touching distance. Interesting thoughts were fertile in my imagination, but her future boyfriend is good and close buddy. Besides I believe in integrity. But she opened up and we shared a lot. Nothing beats alcohol honesty. She poured her heart to me and explained why she had to leave. Besides my being too busy for her, she said,
“You never even once said that you love me,” She told me, sobbing….
Oooh, kumbe it was all about the four letter word…


I am an incurable cynic when it comes to love, relationships and such stuff. I can’t stand a nagging woman and sometimes the female demands outstrip my sexual needs by far. I know many men who subscribe to my school of thought. It makes much logical, fiscal, economical, psychological sense picking up a prostitute and paying her than dating an average Nairobian woman. This we shall address in the subsequent blogs.


Jane if we can call her so, wanted love. I could not give it to her. She went on searching. From her explanation she was not getting as much. There are so many Janes in campus that we are going to discuss here today.


One more anecdote:Auma.


Auma is the girl I have been asking out in the recent times. She is a young, reasonably beautiful and the posses the most proportionate hips I have seen in a long time. The subtlety of it all adds some sexual aura to the game and her girliness brings a rare youthfulness. She is not strikingly beautiful from the outset, but it takes no more than two minutes of her walking besides you, talking to you before you start undressing her mentally.


It is unfair talking about her…Even disrespectful. At least I should spare you the details, but this is between me and you… trust me, she won’t access this. By the time she does, I would have pulled of this particular post off.


There is something instructive about this relationship that I want to use to in order to expose the psycho-sexual relationships of young men and women in campus.


Ideally, Auma is my perfect match. A woman I can groom to be my future long-time girlfriend or wife if all goes well. She is two years younger than me, two classes behind. She carries herself with grace and dignity that she got  me using the word lady after I think three years.


But no sooner I started dating her than I discovered a fatal flaw in her that can be hard for me to stand: She is possessive. She is petty. Typical of a nagging wife. For instance on Saturday, it was football madness. Nine hours of pure, unadulterated soccer. Rooney scored the best goal of my life time, Van Persie taught Manchester what to do with Wolves, Asamoah Gyian scored a nice opener in the Sunderland match and my best current player, David Villa(pronounced as Viya) looped another creative goal..So how was I to miss this in the name of love…She has not stopped talking about it. I can’t even hug or call my numerous girl friends without her asking me who is that and why the pleasantries.


Well going by the nature of my trade, I have numerous female friends. Some beautiful, some not so pretty. Some friendly, some more than friends. We do a lot of crazy stuff together but there are clearly marked boundaries, but she will have none of it. If I allow her to posses me, I will definitely ruin my career, yet I need to put food on the table.


So, what does a man need in a woman? Well, she must meet a certain physical criterion that revolves around a nice shape, most prefer some sizable, spankable bum, and reasonable beauty. This is as far as the sexual expectations go. Beyond the sexual, if there is need for a relationship, a woman must be femininely emotional and exude a certain amount of vulnerability, not naiveté. She must also be witty and intelligent. This criterion is scientific and tangible.


What do women want? Nowadays, some physical criterion where Tyrese is a the benchmark has become too common place. At least seven women have cited him to me within the last five months. We have hit the gym for that. Nairobian women get what Nairobian women want. A man can be witty, loaded or whatever but it seems the emotional and mental content of the man is not a big deal, granted he packs a good punch in the bedroom and leashes out gifts and favours like that. And women have been shifting goal posts ever since until nowadays, they have taken them off altogether that it is impossible for men to score.


I’m talking about the younger generation in 20-26. Most of us happen to be in campus. Talking of University of Nairobi, it is a different story altogether. Being located at the heart of the city presents unique challenges.


It means our women are over-exposed. They must be treated in the city centre. Not many men in campus have sufficient disposable income to throw around. But there are ex-UoNers who are a pain in the butt of many men around. With their cheap Toyotas and Kshs 60,000 monthly salary, they park their cars outside the female halls of residence and this has created a really bad culture. Sort of a vicious cycle that even us are looking forward to perpetuate.


Nairobi University teaches women bad mannerisms and is responsible for the surging numbers of single women in Nairobi. Women teach men the hard way and nearly all my friends will leave campus with hardened hearts and will never ever treat  women any better. Women snob men. Women ridicule men and they make being a man between 20-24 such a pain.


Why do they do that? Well, there expectations are a higher and the men in campus cannot fulfill them at all. They need beautiful hairstyles. They need proper shopping. They need to explore. They are the formative stage of sexual maturity. The initial learning of the tidbits of love and romance. They are searching for the elusive big O. They want that tall, dark and handsome man. Listening to their expectations is an exercise in humour.


Quite frankly, not many men can meet their demands, hence their shopping outside. At least working men are experienced in all aspects than the broke asses in campus. They can conveniently date in campus, have occasional sexual encounters in the hostels but it stops being funny at some point and they become outward looking.


For the saved type, the church is a source of many things including a boyfriend. But who said there are no disappointments in church? Even my in  naturally conservative religious order (read Adventist) I have witnessed some of the worst heartbreaks. And men no longer trust women in the church as much as women no longer do. I know of a Margret who got dumped after four years of dating. She is the sweetest thing I know to date. We were in the same primary school, went to the same church. I used to envy her relationship but the sour ending was an eye opener.


Men in campus with time learn to distrusts women. They learn to loathe their untrustworthiness. They hate how quick women degenerate and how callous women can be. How women are able to move on after a nasty breakup with another man within the same geographical space keeps on eluding many men.


It is a crazy world. Very few men dog around. Out of ten, only three men have the sexual, psychological and financial capacity to cheat around. They give the rest a bad name. Out of ten women, six are unfaithful, materialistic and plain irritating.


To me love in campus is impossible. Only 1% percent can date until marriage. 5% can have a lengthy relationship up to until one year. But semesterial relationships are common place. Up to 10%. Flings are pegged at about 20% while dating outside is at 40%. Some never date until they finish.


To me love is impossible in campus. Having a successful relationship in campus is the exception rather than the norm.


And to think, we had so many expectations when we came in. Phew!!!!!

Clubbing is not for the faint hearted


Shit can happen in those wild night outs, your girl might kiss some not so fly guy to your tremendous trepidation
Margret @ Club Soundd; the classy and elegant
The most beautiful Kenyan woman I have ever met was Margret. It was in at Club Sound at the heart of the city. Boy, I could lick a kilogram of salt just to have her by me. Save for the weave, she had was flawlessly beautiful and a body full of maternal promise. She had this light chocolaty complexion and a smile that could excite all the erotic cells in any man. Her dress drew her appropriately putting everything in proper context. When she stood I could see the outline of two bums, and her cleavage should be the SI unit of what good cleavages should be and every woman short of it is better of saving us eyesores.

I made a move after summoning some alcohol courage and approached her in the dance floor. Since I can’t dance to save my life (and this is proving costly as you will some paragraphs down), I struck up a conversation. She was dancing slowly and careful, so much for the inhibiting dress.

“Without flattery, you are the thing here tonight,” She blushed in a familiar way, “Shall we talk?” I asked her.
She gave me a disproving look, but thought better of it and put on that seductively wicked smile that we are now getting used to with female drivers when they are borrowing a line in Nairobi’s maddening traffic.
“You want to talk to me?” She asked me. “Yes I do.”I eagerly replied.
“Well, get off those women our seats, they look sinister,”I did that by putting on my best military look and I sent the seat stealers to the dance floor.

OK. She had chosen to trust me. I noticed,  like most outrageously beautiful women, she was insecure and was hyper cautious with whom she danced or spoke to. In fact she hardly danced with any man. She danced to particular songs. Lemme remember…Think Natasha Bedingfield, Cassie’s Me & U and some Pussy Cat Dolls. For the slow, those are the songs for the upper middle-class.
Unmistakably classy. Add to this that when Bendover was played for umpteenth time she went back to sit, expressing disgust. She had passed that’s simple test.

They were drinking from the funnel-shaped glasses, a drink that I don’t know, but I remember a slice of lemon attached to the glass. They were three and had the mature confidence of the starter independent woman. Buying their own drinks and speaking only impeccable English. The golden rule of approaching such women is that you don at least one designer wear, a genuine gold or silver  watch and a nice pair of shoes. This I passed. Secondly, you must be driving a ride costing at least Kshs 800,000. Then you will be game. I faked confidence as her colleagues were busy dancing.

After talking a little, I established she is in Strath(she said with all the energy, as if in Strath, they don’t go long calls). And unfortunately, she didn’t sound intelligent. She was too absorbed with her beauty. She offered me her number and they left to Rafikiz-Lang’ata Road. I called her afterwards, she picked my call twice or thrice and dismissed me then afterwards. It was heart breaking. Margret, I can give ANYTHING TO SEE YOU AGAIN…

Of Chips Fungas and phone number exchanges

In this PAP era, so many bad things can happen. Along with my friends we often get numbers from pretty unaccompanied women in a club. After some dark incident that a skull of one of our friends was nearly opened for talking to a beautiful lass in the company of some Kisii bully, we pretty much avoid chicks in the company of man. They could be soldiers. And part of their training is to extract the reasoning part of their brains in the boot camps. If you doubt, try reasoning with a soldier.
If a man flirts with a woman in a club, yet he is in the company one, blatantly disregarding her, it can heartbreaking. May be women are not as jealousy or can withstand the sight of another woman grinding to their man as the he gets his groins excited, sometimes to orgasmic levels.

If a woman gives you a number yet she is in the company of a man without bothering to introduce him, it means, either the man is her brother, relative or fellow church member. Or if he is the boyfriend, she doesn’t regard him so much and for all she cares, you can drive home together. If she proceeds to bend over or dance sexually as the man watches, it could be they have an understanding between themselves. If not, then it is plain urban defiance that now defines many women in Nairobi.

Many a time, dancing is the first step of getting a one night stand. For some men whom my clique of friends call pussy robbers, all they need is simple audience and they can chips funga anything…believe you me. Steve, you there? Exchanging a number means, she prospectively would wish to experiment with you. For a man, the intentions of taking a number in a club are crystal clear: Sex. I don’t know about women. No man shops for a girlfriend in a club. Any man worth his salt knows that, any chick in a club is public property, if she is not in the company of a clingy man.

For women, it could be sex too, or some adventure. The idea of having sex with a stranger is the third female fantasy. So as a man, you could be led to a bed to stud and be left. Don’t know which one is worse; a woman using a man to achieve her sexual end or a man using a woman to achieve her sexual end. Women used to be guilty long time ago, or just about 2000. But it seems alcohol took that away.

Now you can chips funga the daughter of a Minister, a University student, and any other unthinkable woman. And to think, they laughed so much at prostitutes…

Lex, Jessica and I
“Let us go you do me,” Jessica told me. I thought, I didn’t get her right.
“Let’s go you lay me now,” I was totally inebriated but I sobered up. Jessica is one of those above average beauties that a man can’t mind for that random sexual act. My mind was in the overdrive.

But there was a problem, Jessica had just been bought some shots over the counter with my boy Lex. Lex had just been left with his girlfriend of 6 years and he was going through a patchy phase. I had just stopped to say hi. Lex is short and as he vibed Jessica, the Sambuca shots or whatever she was taking were turning her erotic nerves on. When I showed up with towering height, salvation was here for her.

I was drunkenly conscious (another one to your list of oxymorons). I did the most unmanly, unthinkable thing. I became empathetic of my Lex for his trouble and I walked on. I kept asking what Lex could have felt if I had sliced her that chick. Could he stand it as a man, or he could have come out fighting. His genetical make up is suicidal.

He could have lost faith in women completely. Jessica and his company are a group of young women whose idea of clubbing include going to bed with anyone. Protection was never an issue, as long as the morning after pills are stocked. AIDS went with Leprosy.

Show me your friends and I will tell you your character. Or as my old man could put it, an apple does not fall far away from the tree.

Angela@ Riviera

She had criss-crossed our table a record 237( I was counting) times to nowhere in particular. She had big, inquisitive and sneaky eyes. She was pretty and the word chips funga sprung to any man’s  mind in the club. She was dancy-dancy this particular Saturday night. She danced with everyone. She was free spirit. She looked wild and untamable. I developed something for. There was something just too lovely about her.

I was with my friends, PO, Jowizy and my Cousin Patrick doing Del Monte at Riviera while catching up some late night soccer. The problem with bossy, teetotalers is that they assume that everyone likes juice, and sometimes it is impossible to take alcohol in their presence. That is Jowizy for you.An old boy of Nakuru High together with Patrick they were doing a lot of catch up, having not seen each other for eons. It was a rare meeting.

On the next lounge chair, sat me with PO analyzing stuff on different tables as we followed the boring soccer on the big screen. But this chick was becoming too much. We decided to attack her. I didn’t take my eyes off her. She spotted me but her eyes were too shifty for us to lock.

Jowizy took to the dance floor and after exactly 73 seconds, she had walked into his trap. As soon as she turned her ass to his groin as they do it in Nairobi, Jowizy pointed my direction and told her that I had a thing for her.
She stopped and looked my direction for 13 seconds and there was a magic alchemy, and we both wanted each other so much.


She walked to my table and asked me,

“You, what is it,” She asked me with the sexiest and seductive smile possible.
I put mine on, “You”. I said. She laughed. Then my cousin Pato, who can be decidedly perveted, pinched her bum really hard, to which she screamed hard but excited altogether. I asked her if we could out kidogo, she agreed.

She went back to her table to sip her drink. She was in the company of two old men, mostly in their early thirties and she looked anything 22-24. The men were giving those menacing looks that I don’t really give a damn about. But I kept wondering what were they feeling like. That they walked in with this girl who simply could not sit with them must be the height the height of a frustrating evening.

Down stairs, it went on very fast. I got her number. There was an inexplicable urgency between us. It was like we had met and we were meant to be. I was getting an elaborate hug when one of the men showed up and came to me to give me his piece of mind. He held my hand firmly and whispered to my ear,

“Wachana na bibi ya mwenyewe, tuheshimiane,”. I was not intimidated. I released myself and told him that he could not bully me, besides he should pull up his socks…He gave one more menacing look and I clenched my fist ready for a fight. She was visibly shaken. The man could have made me butter that instant but he thought better and walked back with her.

A few days later, I  met Angie, as she calls herself and we had a lengthy chat. I had only told her that I’m at UoN. She rapped her college education and her wish to join campus. She is a trained hotelier. She works at the front office (Euphemism for receptionist) in one of the restaurants in town frequented by foreigners, particularly Nigerians and Sudanese nationals.
At the time, I remember Pato joking,” boy in that restaurant, she has seen dick, black, brown, big, small, straight, crooked, twisted, round, thin, long short, name it”

Well, we did go out. She had aspirations. She had plans. She hated men who are ever preoccupied with sex and had just broken her virginity. She cannot stand the foreigners and dating an old man was a definite NO. She really marketed herself for the nights she happened at my place. I nearly believed her. As a matter of fact she was playing so hard to get that I nearly reinforced my chase…
Until I ran into her in Club Spree this Friday(hence this long whiny blog), giving someone a terrific lap dance. Oh, by the gods, it lap dances don’t come out raunchier.

The man wore that satisfactory sexual look of a guaranteed lay at the end of the night. I couldn’t believe it. She was extracting the pleasures unbidden. When she saw me she turned black but I ignored her. I kept wondering  whether the man was really into her or she was another random girl…was the man emotionally inclined or not. Because it was too much for me. Sad. Or heartbreaking.

My worst fear of clubbing

My worst fear every time I walk into a night club is stumbling upon my ex or someone dear to me giving some dirty, burley, stupid, mongoose of a man who farts in his sleep a raunchy lap dance. It can be affecting. Especially if she seems unaffected and least of all worried about the world and the misgivings around.

I was once doing our mid-week booze down at Bettys with my dog, Bon-I when his girlfriend walked in with some short man with  a stag in his ear, chewing gum. I saw Bon-I twitch, hurting. Although, he claimed it wasn’t a big deal, I knew he was tryina be a man. He had been looking for the flimsiest reason to dump her and the reason couldn’t have come sooner. Luckily the man was her cousin.

I was once in some joint outside town trying to seal a deal when I spotted Brenda. Brenda is the ex of my boy Plato. She was in the company an old man laughing at his jokes…he didn’t seem mildly funny. 13 minutes later Immaculate, walked in. Immaculate is the current girlfriend of Plato. I hate coincidences. I’m a bit superstitious.

It means, I might have to call off clubbing, get me an inward-going woman.

Moral of the story

Don’t ever take a woman you intend to marry out. Insist on coffee dates or anywhere formal. In future, she will know exactly whereyou are doing it and can be a source of problems.

Secondly bumping into your ex with another man can take the taste out of liquor.

Thirdly, if you go out with your chick and you end losing her or she ends up bending over to someone, it is time you know the league you play in her life…


Splitting the date bill; The consequences

Every so often, Kenyan men lament on how our women are a selfish lot, especially with their money. Be it in marriage or in dating, most women invariably demonstrate a certain level of hesitation wherever time calls for them to reach to their purses and help settle the bill together. It is one accusation that women have done little to prove men wrong. As the cliché goes, a woman’s money is hers and a man’s money is theirs.

In the recent past, there has been a clamour from male quarters that women should step in to split the bill, even if occasionally. It is hard to come by a woman ready to go the Dutch way. The men demanding women to help in settling the bill of course are informed by such facts as women now earning as much as men, driving good cars, paying their rent and can take care of their salon charges. Add to this their discouraging independence of buying their own drinks in a night clubs and preferring female company out, what they call girls.

Women in urban centres are also accused of their exquisite tastes, especially if the bill is someone else’s business. This now is a stale argument. Women can actually buy themselves anything considered expensive by the often prejudiced male lot. But what has remained astonishingly consistent is our women’s limited grasp of equality. Wherever it serves them right, they rightfully raise their voices. But whenever some sensibility is called upon in other equally important aspects of life, they turn curiously silent or ignorant.

But a good number of women are now offering to split the bill or settle it altogether. Of course more men still take the lion share of the costs of any given date, it is positive that there women who at least can even merely suggest to settle to take care of the bill. The days when they leaned back and watched as the man flinch settling the bill could well be over by the end of this decade.

Although, it is a welcome aspect of dating, I suppose men are ill-prepared for the price they are going to pay if we readily accept the arrangement. As the old proverb goes, whoever who pays the piper calls for the tune. In the past, men took care of everything and for their trouble had their carnal expectations fulfilled without much fuss. Whoever who takes care of the bill has the silent unquestionable advantage of taking the other partner home.

And I’m reasonably worried that, immediately women pick up the deal, they will soon demand that they call the tune too. And here it stops being funny. I have observed that women who consistently offer to settle the bill have an air of independence about them that can be irritating. It reduces an honest game of dating game into a power contest.

Whenever a woman offers to chip in, it means that a man loses all the advantage he had over her. We must admit that part of being man is paying the bills. We must also acknowledge the times have changed and be ready to move with the tide.

There is something disempowering once a woman you are out to impress offers to deflate your chances of shining on her. This is especially to those men who have nothing to bring but their cash and flashy things. It empowers the woman and calls for the man to be much more creative in his bid. That route of dishing out cash no longer works as more and more men are learning. The younger generation of women wants more than your car, your wit, or money. Especially, if you are dating from among your peers.

Splitting the bill has the terrible effect of watering down the man’s efforts to appease the woman. It is emasculating in a way that a man has no upper hand. Not many brothers are gifted verbally and that is why we need many compensatory items; the car, the good house, nice bodies that we must work hard towards obtaining in order to get and keep a woman.

So when a woman offers to let the man lean back as she examines the bill, she is on the verge of either turning down any sexual request or demanding it on her terms.

So just as men clamour for the days when the women will eventually grasp this one important aspect of equality, they must be ready to cede some of the powers they used to have as women too, call for their favourite tunes, which might not be necessarily danceable with men. It could be payback time, since many of them have had to give in to the demands of men even when they were not up to it. Simply because he paid the bill.