Have you ever come across a woman who is so perfect
that you want to uncover something wrong with her, if only to make her seem
less perfect? Anything at all! foul breath. Teeth discolored by salty water of
Narok or Nakuru. Meru accent. A Facebook name like Shiks which is decidedly
uncool. Perhaps she has a child. or when she sees you, she burps. Sometimes she
sneezes so forcefully that snot flows from her nostrils and lands on the upper
corner of her lip. Because she is without a handkerchief, you will need to pass
her a serviette. Even better, she has to wipe it off with the inside of her
blouse if there isn't a serviette. Anything at all!
This previous Saturday, a woman of that kind was
seated across from me. It was a dream, so wonderful. No matter how corny the
screenplay is, you want to cast her in a movie that will go down as one of the
most unforgettable since the invention of fire.
She was without any makeup. natural air. Little light
skin than Olive Burrows, but with a slightly deeper skin tone. Her hair was
rolled back and coiffed to perfection. Her cheeks were proportional and had
just a hint of a dimple. Her eyes, which are significantly redder and darker,
make her extremely attractive. Her breasts glowed with sensual promise as they
pointed at me, despite the fact that her dress just reached her collarbones. A
stunning woman wearing a well-fitting crimson dress exudes a powerful aura.
Naturally, I thought of the typical dumb questions
that men ask; She is probably dealing with a bastard who waits three hours to
return her message or maybe someone bangs this raw. Who is her gynecologist?
Never mind; whether it's your bespectacled boss in a corner office or a matatu
tout, these are questions that men ask themselves all the time.
"Are the seats taken?" my boy Austin inquired.
With a smile that was half-inviting, half-human, and half Nairobian woman, the
stunning woman glanced up. She turned to face her pal, who paused a little
before saying, "We can take them."
She indulged in cock tail. If a lady is taking black ice or cock tail,
it's implies that she has some sort of class or that spirits has taught her
lessons. After I sat down across from her, we looked at each other for three
seconds. Nothing caught my attention.
I glanced at her friend. Tolerable, but not very lovely. She was pimply, that
means she had daddy issues. She was slightly overweight, that means she had an
attitude problem. She had not so becoming weave, which means
she was drinking Snapp. She was actually drinking Snapp. She wore specs, that
means she cut that inadvertent look of a snob that made her all the more spooky.
I took the seat directly opposite her and our eyes locked for three seconds.
Nothing registered.
Austin placed an order for a White Cap, the ridiculous
beer that became well-known because of the rumor that Kibaki once drank it.
Never before has a beverage been promoted on national television by an
unverified rumor about a haughty president who used to nickname a portion of
his supporters "chicken poop." Advertising White Cap has never been
necessary to EABL. This place is full of Kibaki wannabes, dude. Anything that
is overly or underly advertised has one thing in common: they are all tacky.
But Austin makes up for it by being a great wingman, regardless of how poor his
beer selection may be. You would characterize him as terrific.
I have several hats. I decided to try Tusker Lite this
evening. More emasculated men in this city than La Patrona's meaningless essays
was that one beer. Tusker Lite is probably taken by men who are attracted to La
Patrona. But I want to look like the cool guy this evening. I have my beard
neatly trimmed (lies), a fancy watch with a faux gold band, and my visiting
cousin lent me his iPhone for the evening. I feel like the average
"doing-well" guy that goes to clubs and attracts any woman. Plus, we
are very wealthy and it is mid month, when patrons of this well-liked location
on Kimathi Street are allowed to drink one beer per person and Del Montes. We order three drinks
apiece to impress, and we order two for the girls, who are hesitant but
eventually accept. After all, this is Nairobi, where ladies are always up for
free alcohol. We are aware of the rules.
The moment I pay for the beer, Paul's always-aware mind kicks in. First of all,
he is aware that I am not running for any office in this city. There are
therefore some conditions to my generosity. The gorgeous woman is what I want.
Paul needs to be my wingman in order to prevent the chubby friend from
cock-bombing me. That's what curvaceous girls with attractive friends always
do. That is their place in the human eco-system of nightclubs.
I was mentally practicing an opener pick up line while
the drinks were being set out on the table. Being Jeng, Paul was taught how to
woo women by his mother. I hear him saying how nice the wooden bracelet is that
Ms. Chubby has around her neck. With a deep bass line, he complimented her on
its sincerity and Afro-whateverness. It's just an inexpensive, basic bracelet.
Still, she puts on a nice, "thank you."
I was purposefully staring at the stunning woman across from me as she appeared
to be on her phone. She's probably giggling at some dumb joke that someone in
her dumb Whatsapp group posted. I
would consider my earthly mission accomplished if I could have my way with her,
she was so beautiful. When their more attractive girls are given the truth,
chubby females detest it. The same thing happens when a woman freely leans into
your ear and murmurs that your friend is funnier or more attractive. We detest
it.
She pulled something from her purse. It was made of leather and screamed
sophistication.
"Is that made of leather?" I posed a serious question.
Pure, she exclaimed, grinning. Ladies may be very conceited, and that indicated
to me that I might approach her with flattery. Well, you know what!
I remarked, "Looks like a good, pricey bag," in an attempt to get her
to engage with me. I don't tell a good bag from a terrible one, by the way. She
chuckled.
Could you please tell me where you purchased it so I can get my sister one?
"Dubai."
She got up to use the restroom, boy, what she was
perched on can’t be put in words. I'll talk about her bum instead of her curvy
hips because she has nothing on any wasp in the world. I could sell my
five-acre ancestral land and take a vacation to Mauritius. Even if I end up
living like a pauper, I would still have achieved everything in my life. Her
legs were as delicate and supple as the inner layers of a banana plant stalk,
and she stood at a height of around 5'6". You would believe her flowery
dress was custom-made for her, the way it drew in her posterior. It seemed to
me that she had stood especially to show me her treasures. Excellent work.
Her friend eyeballed me as I stood to let her go, so I
took a moment to look at her from behind. Austin didn't really pay attention,
but he had seen everything that needed to be seen, I promise. Her friend
casually said, "I'm badly behaved for openly gawking at her friend's
behind," which was an innocuous comment. As they focused their attention
on her, I saw that every man in the club was acting inappropriately. I promise
that if she decides to pursue a career in socializing, she will make Huddah, Corazon
and any other potential socialites irrelevant for the next ten years.
I got up to go to the restroom when I knew she was
returning so I could meet her there and give her a lot of praise. Things that I
was not allowed to say in front of her girl friend, who would secretly text her
and tell her she knows me from Kitale and that I gave her cousin gonorrhea back
in 2002, merely to put her off.
I flatter her as I ran into her.
"Why lie, you are the most beautiful thing I have
ever seen." I assure you. Your body can promote everything on the planet.
She politely waved her hand and grinned, more for the drinks I had purchased
than the corny remarks she gets all the time. I texted Austin to find out the
strategy after heading to the men's room. He had it all worked out, just like a
good wingman should.
Upon my return, I discover that he has persuaded them
to go fish at K’osewe and then return for our drinks. Now that we had taken
over their evening, I wonder why these two women are acting so carefree and
what they were doing in the club in the first place. We contacted our familiar
waitress and asked her to hold the unopened drinks for us while we went to grab
a quick bite. To go to Kosewe, we cross the street.
Ms Chubby placed a chicken order. Unfortunately, the
coconut fish that my queen had ordered was out of stock. She made due with a
simple fish stew. Paul chose to eat goat meat. I gave in and had roast fish.
After taking a seat along the wall, we received service. She chose White Ugali,
which means to me that she either has class or is not diabetic. Less mattered
to me what the others were eating. I saw that Austin was making eye contact
with Ms. Chubby, whose name, I later discovered, was Anita—one of the most
repulsive names a person has ever been given. My queen's name was equally
horrible. Have you heard of Julie, the stunning woman?
I flipped the fish over, sliced it open, and held it
up to her mouth. She took it with her little round mouth open.
"I wish I took the roast one."
"Kwani, how is yours?" She sliced a piece and gave it to me with
care.
Looking in my direction, Austine, who was now conversing with Anita about
insurance, inquired,
"Na mmefika aje part hiyo?"
"Eeish, you guys have moved so fast," chimed Anne
"We are meant for each other." With confidence, I spoke.
"Avoid getting ahead of yourself," she cautioned, sounding sincere.
I started munching on her piece of fish, and since fish tastes the same whether
it's boiled, raw, roasted, or fried, I had no idea what to say about it. It was
time to leave because the live band was starting to grow loud. I had the
opportunity to stroll beside her as we made our way back to the club, across
the street, to finish our drinks, and I made some nice remarks about how well
our heights matched.
Austo, I noted, was staying just far enough away to
allow me to throw in as many lines as possible. I had a fantastic audience in
her. We were seated in three rows back in the club, and I volunteered to stand.
The two women had relaxed after an hour. Veronica and Austo were having a great
time together on the dance floor, like if they had been dating for ages. It
turns out that Anita could dance well. Julie asked to dance with me. I can't
dance now. However, she drew me over to the narrow area between the chairs. I
attempted to dance, but she quickly recognized that she could teach me how to
make moves, but she could get a lawnmower to dance. She released me.
A young man was dancing close by. After he made a move
on her, I noticed the man's perverse intents, and within five minutes they were
dancing. At first, my lovely queen was a professional. However, following a
song by Nonini mtoto mzuri, she was massaging the boy's rear. It's as if she
hadn't taken my supper, two beers, and two shots of this creamy substance that
cost me an additional Sh 500. All of this was worth Sh 2000. "Unajua ni
mimi nimebuy huyu dame drinks," I growled in his ears as I dragged him
away and held his hand menacingly.
Austo gave me a glance. shook his head. came to tell
me, trying to figure out what the problem was. The child had urinated on
himself when I realized I was being a jerk, so I told him I was just playing a
practical joke on him. She turned to face me, wondering how long it had been
since she'd seen a not so handsome, clearly possessive man like me.
"Act appropriately; I can't be doing all of this
and you're not even pursuing that chick."
"Let's switch the club. We're leaving town,” I
proposed.
"How far along are you? We will be squandering more money if there is no
development, even if you went to the moon together without asking her out.
Recall that we are nearly Sh 6,000 poorer," Austin remarked, threatening
to kick me in the balls.
She was giving the man her number when I checked her
out. My mental state had collapsed. I hadn't precisely determined who she was,
by the way. But without a doubt, she was a student, or what? She didn't have a
pampered appearance. Despite her age, beauty, and status, she seemed
excessively carefree and carefree.
Anyway, I needed to get things done quickly because of Austine's sacrifice.
Indeed, Austo arrived with a strategy and inquired about the ideal location for
the girls' party. You can trust those who are impoverished or unable to pay for
a night out to choose the most prestigious location. They made due with a club
in Westlands, where they were asking for only 25 year olds. We set off, and
from then on I was more careful. I chose the most amusing remark to make her
laugh uncontrollably. I was moving forward.
Austo was delighted that Anita was going to be his wife. I heard them
discussing plans to purchase a home in Syokimau. Julie gave me all of her
attention and was acting appropriately now. She was being eyed by all the men
at the table, and I was sitting there sulking, praying that some Freddie would
not turn up. Suddenly, she gets up, gives me a hug, and tells me,
"My boyfriend, we need to leave."
I have personally experienced it. Not even once. Two times. However, I
discovered that in Nairobi, any girl is approachable with money.
To be continued.
Austine was excellent in his performance that night. I'll also tell you what
qualities make an excellent wingman in my upcoming piece.
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