Trial & Error

So now I need to prove to Hans R that I’m single. I have uno toothbrush in my bathroom and 6 pillows on my bed .. does that work? I heard some guys on the radio describing multiple pillows on a bed as completing their view of hell – they felt it must be what is burnt to keep up the temperatures and complete the experience.

I’ll be honest though – I sorta-kinda-almost dated some fellow in my time away. A nice guy by all relevant standards, but the kind of relationship the universe rolls its eyes at while rapidly  gesticulating, as though to an Eminem song, while asking; “Haven’t you learnt a thing since you started dating?!” It was just never meant to be.

I believe women throw the men they meet into boxes within a couple of seconds of meeting. There’s the shagable carton, databale pine box, lovable coffer, and the husband shrine. Then of course there’s the ever-constant “friend zone”. I for one have a lot of male friends – but it’s all good. Some are married so can only be friends. Others I’ve known all my life and are really good friends – but friends who climbed into that unidirectional zone so long ago, it would take the Enterprise’ beam to get them out.

Anyhoo, this particular fellow was friended and I was quite happy with it. We’d hang out and chat and I’d politely push back his advances. But Ah! Chineke! For the life of me, I can’t tell you how he weaseled his way into other receptacles (that’s not at all what I meant! Refer to boxes above!). One minute we’re having lunch and the next I’m planning the wedding and wondering if I’m too old to pull off a white gown. And where would our children go to school?

I don’t know. I have no explanation. It wasn’t me!

Long story short, it didn’t work out, and as though that wasn’t bad enough, I was dumped to boot. The universe should use flashing neon signs instead of being “subtle” with its indications on chances of relationship success: “RUN! RUN! RUN!”

Is it the Way I talk?

Reminds me of the old song that tutted "if you wanna know, if he loves you so, it's in his kiss!"

I talk the way I write. A little colourful and punctuated with wit & humour. I have a heavy bag of sarcasm that I try to keep shut for the most part. So someone once told me that that doesn't work for men. That they don't know how to relate to me. That a simple conversation with me is a challenge since I used words like 'unbeknownst' and 'eerie'. Don't get me wrong; I know where to tone down the vocabulary. When buying milk I'd hardly quote 'Oliver Twist'. (Having said that, I once managed to embarass a poor soul at the market when I asked him to give me a generous portion of tomatoes. 'Generous' is a word he had never heard and when I left, he was questioning his counterparts on what the word meant. I felt bad. Not just for him, but for the state of the nation. Was the literacy level that low? And worse still, if he had gone to school, what kind of education are we spinning out if words like 'generous' are considered complex?) When buying milk, I'll tend to sheng which is the real national language.

So anyway, I was advised to tone down my language into a more pedestrian format. And at first I did. And my conversations became tiresomely banal. Flourish in speech entertains me. So instead of saying how I witnessed an accident where the car was wrapped so tightly around itself it was like a dog that actually manages to catch its tail I'd say "it was a bad accident". Bleh! Conversation became like black tea without the tea.

So I thought about it. First I have girlfriends. Although some struggle, they can (for the most part) figure out what I'm trying to say. And if I'm honest, I'll admit that at times I do tone it down. But then, assuming that this charming fellow walks into my life and becomes my lifetime companion (read husband) am I forever to hide behind the veil of simple speech? Won't that just be killing the person I really am? And really, do dudes go through a simpler education system? So I said fudge it! All I have is who I am. I guess I could change in time, but I put the real me on the table. Take it or leave it.

Before I close though, I have been entertained this week by this poor soul who may be trying to win my affections. We went out for a drink and I was describing the effects of what I had. I said "Wine is well mannered. Takes you by the hand, leads you to a chair & regals you with stories as you sip away. Hennessy is like those trucks on Mombasa Road overtaking on your lane and you have to scoot all the way over at the risk of toppling off the cliff!" He made no reply. Yeah well!

The ex-Factor

I tell everyone who will listen that I don't maintain friendships with my exes. But that's putting it mildly; I don't talk to my exes. At all. Not a "Hi, how've you been". Not a dinner to catch up. Not a "pass me the salt". Nothing. In fact I once became frantic at what I would do if I ever met my main ex (guy I was in a long term relationship with) in the streets of Nairobi. Since Nairobi is not that wide, we did eventually meet .. and other than being uncomfortable, it lead to conversation I just had to nip at the bud.

The truth of relationships is that seperation isn't generally a mutually arrived at decision .. You don't generally turn away from your reading (you of 'Eat, Pray, Love' and he of 'Peanuts') to look into each others eyes and therein read the confirmation that it's over. You don't then burst forth into song and dance to a quickly made up, yet rythmical beat titled "I love you no more". Each doesn't pick their favourite of the 2.5 kids and promise to write. No. Things don't work that way.

The truth is there's always the person who's left. It's in The Script: the heart don't Breakeven. The leftee might have had an inkling that things weren't good and even done all they could to hold on to the pieces. They may have been happy & whisteling away like a kid in a candy store oblivious to Chucky hanging out in the next room. All in all it hits them hard. Like an iron fist to the gut. Shifts their reality. Drains out some of life's technicolor. And it's not always easy being the one handing down the decision either. It can change you. It can break you.

So now you have these 2 people. Both hurting. Both yearning. Both purposed to survive. So they adopt the 'let's be frends' ideology. In 'being friends', they hang around each other and maintain civil conversation. To what end, I ask? What is the point? In the best case scenario, what would happen? It's uncomfortable at best. Stalking-ish at worst. One will eventually want to get back with the other. Always happens. And then what? A river of hurt is the only sensible answer.

Be smart. Just walk away and don't get turned into a pillar of salt.

Of Paths & River Bends

I came to the realization that it's terriby difficult to write about relationships when you're not in one ... and even more so, when the last time you were in a real  one is about the same time dinosaurs roamed the earth (free .. not in Jurassic Park). Anyhoo, coz I'm such a great sport (and love to talk) I shall soldier on. And maybe expand my space a little.

The other day I was talking to a guy. He's young and married with 2 kids .. OK, young is relative. He's 32 (and insists he's not that young as his birthday is in September when he'll be a grand 33 (which makes me think that it's only the really young who say that ... I haven't had that comparrison since I was 8 3/4 ...)). Anyhoo, he said he admired my 'freedom'. I really wondered what he meant and have been pondering it all week.

To better visualize, I put mysef in his shoes. I figure he got married at 28 (as his first child is 4). Assuming a younger wife, let's say she got married at 26. I think at 26, I was really just begining to figure out how to place my feet in the job market. Finish high school at 18, wait for the 2 years before getting into public Uni (20), do that for 4 years (24) do my attachment for a year (25) start really working (26). I was probably just a young ditzy girl. If I'd gotten married then, would I secretely be wishing for 'freedom'? Would I wonder what it feels like to spend a Saturday morning in PJ's watchng back episodes of Olivia Pope's Scandal? Would I never thereafter have left the bar at 6 in the morning? Would opening the fridge to nothing but cold water and food gone bad have never been exprienced? Would I have missed any of this? Would I have known enough to miss them?

I guess life takes us through the paths meant for us. Maybe if I'd gotten married young (and for those of you who keep shaking their heads, 26 in my opinion is really rather young) I would be the satisfied settled mother of 5 & happy like a pig in mud. Maybe I'd be the suicidal wife of a successful doctor who couldn't fathom why I felt that death was a better alternative than life with him, whose only fault was deseperatey loving me (a book I read .. a little morbid). Maybe I'd spend my life wondering about the road not travelled. There's a song in Pocahontas (the motion picture) that speaks of spending life wondering what's just around the river bend. Lucky for her, the script was crafted in such a way that she found out immediately after she finished singing the song. Real life doesn't generally work out that way .. not least because we don't generally spend our days singing with the spirits found in trees for inspiration (and instrumentation).

So here's my words of wisdom: life is what you make of it. And everday is a new day, with a new page to choose what the story of your future shall be. But the key is not to get stuck either looking at the past wondering what if you'd taken a different path or staring blankly ahead trying to figure out what will be coming along just around the river bend. Take a breath and live out the here and now. It's all any of us really ever have.

Hostilities on a Good Day

This Good Friday, I went for the Way of the Cross procession at my local church (you know .. where you see a usually small group of mismatched people walking slowly and blocking half the road for seemingly no apparent reason .. yeap that's us *blushes* (and that's the reason)). So anyhoo, they changed the book we'd be using without fore-warning so I was forced to peek over people's shoulders or just force my way by their side to keep up. It's not a big deal really .. or well, it shouldn't be. This is a church function for goodness sake so if you can't share on Good Friday, humanity may be in more trouble than we might think (sorry .. just got through an apocalyptic novel today).

Most people didn't mind sharing their books .. and those who did, I bullied into submission. Don't worry .. this is the part where we get to my story. I am totally unbiased in who I'll seek assistance from. It was like musical chairs. Where the music stopped (quite literally) I moved closer to whoever nearby had a book. So somewhere along the way, a man, maybe 10 years my senior, had a book and I moved closer. I immediately sensed unease. As I was not groping him in a dark alley, I figured it had nothing to do with me. Then a lady who had stopped slightly ahead suddenly leaned heavily (and unnecessarily) on him. The declaration of territory. She quickly scanned my hands for a ring, and seeing none, somewhat glared at me. I saw no reason why all three of us couldn't read from the same page and just be friends .. It's the Holy Week for crying out loud! I became acutely aware of the man's discomfort and wondered at my lot. All this took place in the span of 5 minutes or less, but in that period, I had to ask myself when I'd became such a social pariah .. The Single Women: Snatcher of Husbands even in church! Nkt!

In her defence, maybe her man has a wandering eye, but that really has nothing to do with me. If your man is a strayer, he will stray even if you shoot and kill all the women you see him with. From the stories I've heard from my male pals, they've become rather clever about hiding their indiscretions & they're never with the people you expect. Spare the new young & perky secretary in his office some slack and give a closer look at your best maid ...

The Teachings of 2013

Apologies are over-done .. let's just get on with it, shall we?

I've been thinking that I should put down tales of my misses from last year .. you know, the type of things that could only happen to me ..

1. The West African

Do you remember the photo guy? That happened in Nigeria. True to form, I was in Ghana at same point last year for work and was once again put up in a hotel. I got in on a Sunday afternoon and managed to do a little sight-seeing while gorging myself with snacks. I chose to skip supper because:

a)      I would be up by Nairobi time which would be 3 hours before everyone else.

b)      I was enjoying a sugar high from the junk I’d eaten so didn’t need to eat.

c)      Last and probably most honest, I figured that I could save some money in the knowledge that breakfast there comprises full meals of chicken, rice and beef.

As expected, I got up rather early (maybe 4am Accra time) and got some work done while waiting for breakfast time which started at 6am. By 6am, I was all showered and famished. I bound my way down to the restaurant almost skipping to a tune in my mind and picked a table. I started off with some fruits and sat myself down, happy with myself. Now, totally unexpected and out of the blue, a well clad, nice smelling and relatively handsome Ghanaian man chose to come join me at my table. I didn’t really mind and welcomed the chatter that ensued. He also started his meal off with fruits. 

As one would expect, we both moved to the 2^nd part of our meal at the same time. I went about picking my chicken, rice, veggies, sausages, and God only knows what else. I got back to the table first and happily tucked in. By now, I’m guessing you already know where this story is headed. Mr. Super-Health-Consciousness came back with a small portion of baked beans and a sausage … How now! Needless to say, he polished off his entire meal before I’d finished tackling my chicken and was off to a (possibly fictitious) meeting he had to attend.

*sigh*

2. The Cheap Guy

I chanced upon some fellow one drunken night out and we got into entertaining conversation including our announcing to everyone that we had been married for 7 years and were the perfect couple (blame it on the a-a-a-a-a-alcohol ..). So anyway, before we parted ways that night while exchanging numbers I noticed that he was driving a slick navy blue Mercedes Benz coupe. I’m not one to base friendship on such flimsy things as cars driven, but it must be said, I noticed it.

Next time we met, he showed up in a sleek metallic grey BMW 1 Series which is a car I really like. Next time after that, he was in a beat up Subaru that had been in more than its fair share of accidents. After that? You guessed it! He was on foot! Something about his car being in the shop .. As I like to think of myself as a level headed woman who doesn’t care about material things, I didn’t make too much of it all.Of course I did wonder if he were a driver, poor man, beggar man or thief (seeing as rich man was off the table).

What tipped the balance is when he took me out for dinner. You need to understand .. he booked me in advance for this .. We met up (obviously I was now the one driving) and he gave me directions .. To a bar! And ordered chips & sausage. Even a Thirty-something-year-old has her limits! Things didn’t last too long after that.

*sigh*

3. The Psycho

This was a friend of mine with whom things took that turn. I won’t say it’s never a good idea to fall for a friend but in this case, it didn’t work out for me. We loved each other’s company and were always laughing so those who heard of the shift in gear in the nature of our relationship were not too surprised and were happy for us. I won’t bore you with the fluffy happiness of the initial part of the story but will go straight to the point.

One fine evening while at his place, he took a hold of my arm and casually mentioned how easy it would be for him to break it. No .. you don’t have to go back re-read it .. that’s what he actually said. Soon thereafter there was a question that made my blood run cold: “Does anyone know you’re here?” Wa! Wa! Wa! How now! Can you say Psycho! I’d like to report that I gathered myself up in a huff while shouting at him “Get away from me you Hannibal Lecter!” but alas .. I was too happy to be in the rise of potential love that I gave all this a blind eye. It all ended not too long thereafter due to other reasons, but with hindsight I thank God dearly .. perhaps my body would now be lying in an unmarked grave in his backyard while he tends to the blossoming roses above my head …

*shudder*

The teachings of 2013 to me were that being single is not all bad! 

Have an optimistic week ahead!

Finding Love Online

I've discovered internet dating!

It's actually not the end of the world; it's something people apparently do. If this month's True Love is to be believed, there's this lady who found her love online. At the age of 34, she had never been in a relationship (never had a boyfriend) and moved half way across the world to the US to be with her intended who she found on the web. They've had 2 weddings (to each other) and now have a son. I give it a dry twist, but it is a cool story. And the man in question is rather fetching if photoshop was not employed. So why not? I must wonder though at how one goes through 34 years without ever having been in a relationship. Isn't that super tough? I expect that the reasons we have exes is to learn about the other sex and improve our relationship skills. And I don't mean in bed, I mean just.Men and women are so desperately different, you need training wheels before marriage.

So far, my attempts have not been very successful. I'm yet to meet any of the people I've chatted with. Quite frankly, there's only 1 I'd be interested in meeting, but let's see how that pans out. If the blog changes name to 30-Something Wife, you'll know things went well :-) But I have had interesting conversations and that's not always easy to come by, much less with strangers.

It's a little funny that I'm not embarrassed by my attempts to find love online. I figured that I would be all hush hush about it and that if anything worked out with a loose Tom, we'd have to come up with a fake story of how we met for family, friends and children's benefit. Asking the web had in my mind been a sure sign of failure. Now I don't really care. Maybe the sense of impropriety fades with age ..

What the?!

I've been a terrible blogger. If there's e-confession for things like that, I'll sign me up!

So there's this strange guy who's been darting me. Strange, you ask? We start with the part where he's Congolese and married with kids. In our first conversation, he did little to hide the fact that he likes chicks and tries to get around as much as he can while he's away from the wife. I made the ill advised decision to share my contact details with him (I know..) and what do you know? I'm being quasi stalked. He has been calling near tears saying he doesn't understand why I'm being so cold to him. When I stopped answering his calls, he resorted to WhatsApp. The oddest thing? His WhatsApp picture is of his wife! In her wedding gown!!!

I've honestly been beginning to wonder what happened while I was looking in the opposite direction. In 1 week I met 2 guys separately in casual settings who went about emphasizing their view that I'd better pounce (on them) because they're rare and I'd be liable to miss out. Really?

If you've been reading this and wondering what I'm on about, being a single girl above 30 isn't the same as being a leper in the olden days. We're not craving for what scrap of attention we can get from the table of your masculinity. We will not suddenly drop dead if you or one of your ilk don't offer us casual sex. (For crying out loud we're women ... we can get sex at the drop of a hat!) We don't necessarily like being single but it's a lot friendlier than being saddled up with such conversation.

And yes since the point has moved in that direction, I believe that all women can get sex whenever they want it, although not necessarily from the people they'd primarily want it from. I said it.

Man from Above

So now the other day I came to the office whistling a light tune and at peace with the universe. Then the most unexpected thing happened.I got to the door fumbling with my bags and trying to fish out my access card from those creases it hides in every day when lo & behold I had a vision. The single most beautiful man I had ever seen. He looked like he'd been carefully & meticulously chiseled out of tall dark smooth stone by the gods of good looks who took their time with the task. He just stood there all nonchalant deep in conversation with someone my mind didn't register ... I was in a daze. Then he turns his gaze to me. And I quickly curse the fact that I didn't have the foresight to come to work in a dinner dress. Eyes lock. I'm enchanted. Just can't look away. Or do anything else for that mantter. A gentle smile. I could have fallen to the ground. Then idiot work mates come in behind me and break the moment (which in all fairness couldn't have lasted for more than a couple of seconds). I'm forced to gather my wits from all across the floor and go to my desk.

And as fate would have it, he was attending a meeting in a room not too far from where I sit. He had the voice of Angels singing to inform the shepherds of the birth in Bethlehem. But as fate would have it, I had a full day meeting booked off-site. Which was probably a good thing for my employer as I would never have gotten any work done otherwise.

I never saw him again and have no idea who he was.

That was the best work-morning I've ever had ...

Society's Unforgiving View of Singles

I've generally been settled if not a little apprehensive about my singly status, but all has generally been ok. I don't know if it's me, but of late I've been feeling the societal push on my back. Every where I go, it's this and that about marriage, couples, babies ... To be quite frank I'm getting a little sick of it all. To give you an example so you know I'm not just being a disgruntled single woman, let me walk you through a couple of instances in my weekend:

I was buying shoes and while negotiating price (I told him I didn't have the amount he'd quoted), the guy tells me na si I just call 'mzee' for m-pesa. And he goes on to give me a couple of choice tidbits about his own marriage and his wife's charming shenanigans. I smile politely and participate in the conversation, coz after all, who's not in a relationship? Right?!

I was drinking with some married guys and the conversation moved to something or other to do with family and when my opinion was sought a guy promptly chimed in "She wouldn't know; she's not a mother". I felt suitably slapped, took a deep breath and had a swallow. I know some may not understand why I was miffed, so I explain: unless we're talking about labour pains, I can have a comment on things parenthood as I live in society and pick things up. It's a bit like giving your opinion about paraplegics; you don't have to be one to have an opinion!

I went for a movie and the guy checking tickets at the door didn't quite hide his surprise as he looked around me and asked "1 only?" subtext: "You're alone???!!!??!! The horror!!"

The examples are many. And that's just this weekend! Point is, I have a hard enough time being single without having it rubbed in my face every step of the way. But I guess that's societies way of pushing for a balanced fully paired society!

Three is Company too

While I was away I learnt 3 things:

1. Love sucks
2. Always be your own Number 1
3. Pray

I was in an almost relationship that didn't work out and that, together with love, sucks. One can always seek consolation in the knowledge that there are so many relationships out there that are so fundamentally shot to hell that at times being alone sounds like a full fledged party.

Anyhoo, to lighter notes, a chick once grabbed my ass at a bar. No, she did not lightly brush against me, she was not passing in the opposite direction and accidentally graze by and she was not seeking out my wallet (seeing as I'm a girl who carries a purse). We were on a dance floor and the woman grabbed my butt! I was shocked beyond measure! Cannot begin to explain what went though my head. My reaction was I gathered my wits and avoided her like the plague seeing as she was eager to make many a pass near my rear!

So the question of the day (give me my 15 minutes of talk show hosting please) is this: what's all this about bi-curious women in Nairobi? Myth or reality? And 3-somes?

On my part, I've never been in a 3-some and was meant to experience it vicariously through a male pal who was promised a chick sandwich (though it turned out to be a hoax). What if you end up being .. you know .. a third wheel (think Ross Geller & his lesbian wife). Isn't that like the worst possible thing that could happen to your ego? And being chicks, will you spend half the time comparing your ass to hers?!

Life must be hard enough without certain other complications!

Gentlemen of Jazz - Sierra Lounge

The Sierra Platinum Lounge pulled a novel one on the Kenyan scene and held a Jazz night this past Saturday. The Gentlemen part of it sounded spectacularly interesting so I though why not? A couple of girlfriends and I made it a plan.

I'm not much of a socialite but the idea of an evening jazz event complete with dinner struck me as a non-jeans event. So I went out of my way and picked out a dress (I never wear dresses other than at weddings and even then it's with effort) for the evening. As I was feeling very un-me-ish (what with the dress and all) I got there on time. 7:30pm sharp which was the time the event was slotted to begin.

My first impression of the venue was disappointing. The chairs had been arranged  the way they would be at a press conference; lined up facing the stage. I'd expected table seating. Then the venue is filled with pillars that seemingly erect themselves when your not looking blocking the view of the stage.

With my initial frown out of the way, I sat me down next to my pals and ordered up a drink. Being your average Kenyan I was very watchful of how the drinks were being dispensed. You see the admittance promised dinner and drinks so I wasn't sure if it was 1, 2 or 3 per person. Again as an average Kenyan, you can imagine the pulse of joy that hit me when I realized it was an open bar. They could belt out all the crap they wanted in the name of jazz but I'd still be happy.

It quickly became apparent that a jazz event is not the venue to snag yourself a man in this country. Absolutely all men present (save perhaps for the waiters) were accounted for. The one guy who seemed to be staring inquisitively at a far away spot in the horizon thus garnering himself an air of sophisticated mystery was probably just short sighted and trying to make out the band. And besides, his chick turned up before long.

So the first guy on stage was Anto Neo Soul. He has a good voice and sings well. For me, this was overshadowed by the way he went ahead to lecture us a number of times. First he called out the guys for not making an effort to dress up. Then he called all of us out for daring to speak in a pedestrian manner while attending a jazz event .. He called for more sophistication from his audience. Then he told us he was famous coz he's in Shugga ... Ita waaaaiter!!!

Next up was "The Itch". These guys blew my mind! I'd seen the main singing guy (who's name I can't recall or find online) walking around the lounge and had thought that he looked familiar in a commonplace manner. Kind of like that face that's always there at some music event or other. When he stepped up to the mic I realized that he was very far from the boy-next-door. And the way he carried those notes with eyes shut and head thrown back in total engrossment, made him very sexy indeed with his small shirt, fitting jeans and loose dreadlocks (Spinster focus!). I was happy. There's him but there's also the band. The way those guys played made it clear that they had a very personal relationship with their instruments and their fond interaction had payed off. I'm a rock fan myself and what those guys did on stage satiated my rock loving soul.

Maqbul was host and that was a good thing as he has an easy sense of humour and a great deep voice. So he informs us that Change Quartet (which had been my star attraction to the event) had changed its name to something that sounded like Gabon (maybe Cabon? Quoi bonne?) So seems they lost one of their number being the sax guy. And seems said sax guy pulled a dramatic move little before they were to get on stage. The show must go on. That being said they were OK. Couldn't help feeling a little sorry for them. Especially since they were playing immediately after such an itchingly brilliant performance.

For the Kenyans I must explain this. Dinner was made up of an array of bitings. I know that when I say this, what comes to mind are fish fingers, chicken wings and prawns. No. I think that what they served draws from the very etymology of the word - a bite. You'd get those Chinese ceramic soup spoons with a carefully measured cube of say pork on it. Then there was the fishy thing I came to learn was lobster. The oily thing I came to learn was lamb & rice. And a wonderful soup. To my great chagrin, these small servings filled me up. And besides, as a kawaida Kenyan, drinks through an open bar are far more impressive than food.

All in all I'd say it was a worthwhile evening.

Settling

I find that a lot of my friends have gotten themselves into relationships. Contrary to what I may have expected of myself, I'm not actually jealous. It's sad being left behind in the "not-picked pile". Sort of makes me think of that movie that would always come around Christmas time about a train that carried orphans across the US in the hope that they would find families to adopt them. I think everyone gets taken in the end, but I always think how awful for them as they go along and contemplate their fate! What if they're never picked? Anyhoo, back to the line of thought, I find that a number of my friends seem to have settled. They didn't find the man/woman they would have wanted, so are making do with the ones they're with. (Of course some are ecstatically happy with partners presented to them by cupid himself .. (*curses under breath*))

I find this so very sad. I know I'm probably a hopeless romantic but, No! People shouldn't settle for anyone else than their hearts desire, should they? My pal recently told me he's aging (he's in his early 30's) and his Mama is convenient. He doesn't have the energy or the time to go around searching for a soulmate, so he's settling. We'll be taking mbuzi's soon. Another lady I know says she's now looking to be kept by an older married man. At 40, she doesn't still harbour dreams of finding her own man.

How do these relationships progress? Does say the Mama in my pal's case know that she was just at the right place at the right time? If she does, does she care? Is she just so glad to have a man that she let's this slide? Does this come to affect their sex lives with each partner seeking fulfillment elsewhere? Is this the phenomena that keeps Jimmie Gathu gainfully employed in his'Fikiria' campaigns? Again for the other lady, is there a shelf life? A sell-by date? What is one to do if they find themselves rapidly approaching it?

In a slightly related story, apparently women in the southern part of this continent find women like me (and as such most women in Kenya I guess) very selfish. How dare you declare you want a man all to yourself? What about your fellow sisters? Have you no concern for them & society as a whole? There are not enough good men to go round! Mscheeeew!!!

I say live & let live!

The Gym

I recently went back to the gym to try and get rid of Pot. Yes Pot is described as a proper noun as it's the one companion (second to God) who I can confirm has been a real presence with and (in profile) by me for the better part of my life. And the thing with Pot is that at any given time he always seems larger than he was before. So my friend's advice was to befriend Pot as he shall certainly always be there.

Anyhoo, I went back to the gym and was immediately struck by the culture shock that always gets me there. You see I went to the kind of high school that enshrined privacy. Our showers were closed stalls with 3 walls and a door and we had doors to our loos. The only person who ever saw your boobies was the school nurse when doing her intrusive kneading & pinching in the name of a pregnancy scan. Because of this background, you’ll never find a picture of me jumping over a barrier without my undies like a certain ex-tabasamu celebrity who will remain unnamed (reason being we don’t know said name). The point here isn't so much chastity as it is propriety.

In the gym, I will not be the one prancing from the steam room in nothing but the skin on my back and sitting around chatting idly with the rest as I wait to cool down. Yet this is exactly what happens. Women of absolutely all shapes and sizes throw self-consciousness to the wind and bear it all, all the while conducting conversations on the latest political intrigues! Aaaahg! I don’t care to see your backside or so much skin in one room! I’m happy to sweat it out in the aerobics class followed by a non-traumatizing shower!

What I’ve come to do is block it out. I try very hard not to look at people in the nude. I’m a little anti-social in the gym I guess as in the process of avoiding eye-contact, I keep my eyes firmly on my gym shoes (which have a stain at the bottom right corner). How do I change in & out of my gear? I actually seek out a stall to change inners as necessary. I’m the one who carries a few items of clothing to the shower to change once done (and thus spends more time in there than is strictly appropriate). I’ve noticed a few hostile looks (“Kwani anadhani ana nini hatujaona?”) but let me be me and I shall let you be.