Two men, one woman; a question of balls
I think all human beings are naturally predisposed to dumb choices. Give a man a Keith Kilonzo and some dumb blonde somewhere with big ass an attitude that stinks from one end of Kenyatta Avenue to the other, and sure as hell he will go for the blonde. Brains are always secondary and so overrated. Equally present a woman with a relatively short man, with brains and character and another one who is a tall schmuck with the character of horny donkey, and sure as hell she will pick the schmuck.
On the subject of dumb choices, give Kenyans Peter Kenneth, Martha Karua and Ole Kiyiapi…see what we did there. And so, this developing story.
It is a Saturday evening. I am with Teddy Fischer, my retrosexual friend who gets a kick putting me down and Raul, a ninja the girl I am currently eying thinks is funny. Women are actually complex to understand. What she calls funny is what will make Larry Asego weep. Suffice to say Larry Asego is not even funny, just in case you get me wrong.
The mission of the night: My female pal Phanice (someone was given that name, I think out of parental neglect) wants me to go see her other close friend off to the airport so that we can go for drinks together afterwards. OK, Phanice gets what Phanice wants. Besides, she reassured me that my philandering friends might be luck and get some of her ‘fly’ friends.
The number of ‘single’ women who show up in parties ready to be shagged after a few shots of Tequila has been giving me sleepless nights lately. Just about any other party I have visited, a friend has been lucky with an extremely beautiful woman; married, sometimes; dating, often. My extremely efficient friends never waste a chance and before the lady knows what hit her or getting piquant into an imaginary relationship, she discovers that she doesn’t even have the number of the said man. Nevertheless, she will show up at a different party with the same expectations. And the cycle continues.
So we arrive in her big house in South C. What do they say about South C? It is the most confused and exploited estate in Nairobi. South C, even if the conductors decided that the fair is 200 bob they won’t complain. Let them try such a stunt at the Kayole stage or any Eastlands bound stage…South C gives us people like that lady of Tujuane. Just about the only good thing that ever came out South C is E-Sir(RIP).
There is a substantial crowd of seemingly mature fellows in the house in different stages of courtship and drunkenness. As usual, there is that one guy, probably broke or shy watching something on NatGeo. There are three young girls physically and aesthetically challenged trying to act normal. But it is the big-assed, ‘weaved’, with the bust pouring out of their chest who grabbed our attention.
Ordinarily, you would call them ratchets. My stupid judgmental self could not stand them. There is something eerily plastic, when a woman with a long hair, painted make-up, holding a HUUUGE smart phone shouts, MORE AMARULA!!!!. It has a way of getting to my nerves. Why do I hate women who pretend so much?
Anyway, as we took our shoes off, amidst the chatter and the shouting, all eyes were trained on Teddy. Many women have whispered to me, ‘he is quite a looker’ and many have kissed him in my presence, just for the thrill. I guess by the time he leaves Kenya, there will be enough ‘pointees’ to feel up Nyayo Stadium We took to our seats and we logged onto Twitter as we tried to acclimatize ourselves, waiting for the drinks to be served. Phanice knows that Gilbeys and Lime Juice is the best thing to happen to me since myself and that is it what she served as she distractedly told us to feel at home.
Phanice, if you will allow me is one of those women I have pending issues with. I want her. She wants me. But we know, if we dare cross the line, things will never be the same again. So we are friends but no one has been friendzoned. I sat there with Raul and we started gossiping about which chick could be laid on spot, which one will prove a challenge, so on, so forth. Across the room, Teddy was talking to the DJ, but I am sure he was eying the lady next to him and he had taken the long route, knowing, the chick will be curious and of course instantly be interested in him.
There was a gentleman, nay a schmuck, I took an instant dislike to. He was one of these guys with below average looks, averagely tall, but being a gym person, the muscles were pouring out of his shirt and he had been rightfully ignored by everyone. But what annoyed me most is that he was erotically eying Phanice, especially her behind. He seemed a man on a mission and instinctively I knew that he had his eyes trained on her. A sharp tingle of irritation pricked me. I should say that the word irritation and jealousy had the same meaning.
I had tried saying Hi to him and he didn’t even wait to get my name, though he had said his name as Janas. Or was it jAnus? The kid is probably hated by his parents. That name. Whether it was his nature to ignore people, or he hated the attention I was receiving is neither here nor there. So we agreed on spot that we can’t be friends.
I wanted to talk to Phanice and exit, when Teddy told me to get myself someone and get busy in order to stop my wet blanket’ tendencies. So I looked around, there wasn’t a chick I fancied. All I could see was plastic and polythene bags. Any woman who drinks something that costs half my rent is out of my league. It is all about lanes. Lanes.
Thankfully, Phanice realized that I was getting bored and she brought her tipsy self my way. She was playful and we had some nice banter. jAnus was watching and I could see he was not terribly impressed. Fuck jAnus!
To make him feel jealousy, I started getting touchy, touching her inappropriately just to make him angry. He was ticked off and I saw smoke come out of his nostrils and I thought I saw his middle finger up, but Phanice had given him her back. Life is not fair… As the times went by, time to leave to the airport was due and we all assembled in the parking and that is when jAnus pulled a shocker on me.
Given that, Phanice had to ensure that everyone was secure in the cars or taxis, it means, she almost missed out on a ride and jAnus came to her rescue and offered her a seat next to the driver’s seat. He was the one spinning. And he watched as we tucked ourselves into our rattletrap. He remembered to wink at me at having beaten me 5-0. ROUND ONE.
We got to the airport and it was drizzling. I offered Phanice my jacket, in front of jAnus. He actually had a nice feminine sweater on and he realized his blunder and bit his lower lip. I had given him 2-0. To that end, Phanice probably had not realized we were trying to kiss her ass. Or if she knew, she was going about it everything in a graceful way. Quiet and composed. Not to be outdone, jAnus (actually, the j is silent) proposed that they do coffee in their nearby lounge. He scored 3-0. I tried to be cool about it, but he seems driven to piss me off. And he was succeeding. And we don’t want that. When I am angry, someone’s life is always in danger. Off to coffee, they went.
But before they left, I called Phanice,
‘’Sweets, tomorrow, si you drop by for some storo.’ Maybe, she didn’t like the name Sweets. Maybe it is that sheng word Storo. For she didn’t say, ‘Yeah, get a Martini ready’. Rather she said, curtly, ‘Call me.’
When a chick tells you ‘call me’ curtly, you know she wanna feel important. OK, it was Phanice, so I didn’t mind too much, but I noticed a fatal crush developing on Lord jAnus. What is going on here. I will be snooping around her phone this coming weekend to see the kind of correspondence going on. Keep it here, if interested. …