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…


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