‘Okay’ has been my weekend schedules for the last eighteen months. The deficiency of an alternative being the major reason but I’ve learnt to make do. The popular talk show by this guy who whose name has proved quite a task for this other guy with the ‘oh my’ on this other television station commences my Friday. Watching an action movie(totally not my idea) after the 9 0′ clock news then sluggishly off to bed a little after midnight. Amidst that chronology of events I’ll probably be on my phone sending emojies to any interested party.
Maandazis from the shop across my gate and two cups of tea Masala (I even go to three, I love chai) kicks off my Saturday.
Later, I’m outside my house bending over a basin almost to tears looking at the grotesque view below me. If I have a wish at that moment, I’d forget about my dream guy wish, I only want a washing machine to clear this mess my brothers call school uniform. Is half their time in school spent rolling in the dust, engaging in food fights or maybe both? I’ve wondered more often than not. It’s either a movie of my choice, this time because all the male domination(my brothers)is absent or a girlfie call to help me come up with a pass time activity for the afternoon. Gossiping the entire afternoon about her boyfriend and the indictments they’ve had the past week takes up the entire afternoon . Laughter,keen concentration and advice flows in.
Church starts off Sunday.This or that meeting after church (why does all this shit of chamas and organizing committees have to be handled on Sunday?) 6:00 finds me seated in the house glued to the television admiring gowns and covetously looking at grooms.The fantasy of walking down the aisle and crying as I say ‘I do’ I still hold dear. I’m laughing at 8:00 to 9:00 (that popular comedy show) then I’m on my phone again looking for someone to continue my laughing spree. My weekend is done!
While all my friends were at bae’s for the weekend. Taking selfies, laughing and clasping each others bodies watching ‘me before you’ I was home. I’m not about to begin with the expostulations ,but would you please keep the selfies to yourselves. Stop reminding people like me that we’re alone with no one to call us ‘my ride or die, my munchkin, in addition to all those inutile names they call each other. We know you’re happy and we’re happy for you.
This helplessness has not been a lifestyle though. Don’t start to think I’m one of those ladies who only need themselves. As a matter of fact I’ve been in the quest to find bae. But it’s been a dead end after another, from the frying pan to the fire.
I began with this blogger friend who I had met some time last year(way before you become my one loyal friend who I can share my frustrations and laugh with via this balcony we call WordPress). I was working as a hair dresser then and somewhat he liked my smile. He asked for my FB name (really dude, FB name), people ask for numbers! We became acquainted, I enjoyed his reads, he’s good. When I joined the train to blog land he said how intelligent I am (those were his words) and thought I’m quite attractive blah blah blah. I fell in, we had a thing going, blogger friends slash (I was almost saying stroke) lovers for a month. Pictures of his ‘friends’ beside his bed and those selfies I touched on earlier paved room for a hallway to singlehood. That’s the closest I’ve come to a relationship in a long time.
This one you’ll like. I met him through a friend. He’s everything you want in a guy. But he’s brown, quite peculiar because my dating history dictates I don’t get along with such. An exemption he was. We had a good thing going, he’d told me he has a daughter and more than okay I was. Not only because the kid is such a beautiful soul but also because somewhat I’d made up my mind it’s him. I enjoyed it while it lasted regardless of its so short life span. I’m chilling out in his balcony and the neighbor on the next floor sees me and immediately concludes I can’t be any other person than ‘Nadia’. Now do I need to tell you who this Nadia is,(I know you’ve guessed it)Nadia is the baby mamma. The same lady my dear brown guy let’s call him Myles, had articulately stated that even if she was the last woman on earth he’d have nothing to do with her. Turns out he has everything to do with her and guess what he told me when I asked, “it’s complicated”. I don’t know whats complicated about lying to me you don’t meet eye to eye with your baby mama, then next thing I know she spends the weekend at your place. One word bullshit!
This one made stupid a mild analogy. He knows me, loves my blogs loves my naughty brothers and even greets my mom on the road. He’s your typical ‘good guy’ or so he would want you to believe. We exchange a lot on messenger and in so many ways I’ve already said yes. He even has my number,but he’s the busy busy kind. No time for even just coffee, it’s probably the money so I understand. I play along,be nice, he’s nice everyone’s happy. Wednesday comes and he posts his ‘WCW, ride or die, empress’ and finishes by ‘love you boo’. I thought I was boo. Yes it was just a thought!
If I wasn’t despondent earlier, I have every reason to be now. Hiched is every single new crush and they’re all single before you know ‘boo’. They’ll all lead you along and the good times will be there. And the good times will last up until you come across a picture of bae somewhere or a lost forgotten brassier in the closet. You’ll seek an explanation you’ll hate to hear but nothing will matter really because you never had a place anyway.
Every young man who has met me,who will meet me,even you who will borrow my number. Should you notice that pulchritude smile ever plastered on my face, like my hair on a bad hair day or the way I walk(people fall in love in mysterious ways) please keep off my lanes. If and when you have a bae ,you got your own. Let me get my own.
:::::::::::::::© Credit goes to this pretty friend Joy Wainaina the only person I know with seven jobs btw :::::::::::::::