By November 15, 2016 October 2nd, 2017 Societal concerns

Loneliness; it is a Goliath; you could kill it with a staff, sling and stones. It has now become your designated companion; not even the funny whatsapp videos can steal it. It makes you cry, big fat tears that smear your heavy makeup. Jesus, even God saw that Adam was lonely and got him Eve; this thing is prohibited. It makes you acquire an inside job at Instagram Ltd for the position of a certified couple admirer, and that drains your okoa bundles as you admire photos of girls being proposed to under the moon and the stars, then hubbies kissing baby bumps, couples raising designer babies, couples in their 27th honeymoon. This rubs you with a cocktail of feelings that lead you to start questioning God like a 4-year old; why me? For how long will I be a `waiter’? nilikosea nani? Was I cursed? Is it because I cheated once? It then rings that He is a Supreme Being and you go down on your knees, look up, and repent half-neck. Welcome to the life of a 27year old single lady. I would call her phenomenal, woman of substance, proverbial 31, daughter of Zion, miss independent, but when you are officially, dramatically and emotionally single, you are a huntress. No bargain.


You saw him and your mind went on a trip. Your crush. He is the reason you keep your data on day and night because his texts take your inner being to a whole new world; a world of tension, happiness, infatuation, and imagination. It is his texts you anticipate more than Mpesa messages (that is a disorder in this economy) and when he finally texts, it doesn’t matter whether you processed the particulars, you reply in 2seconds. According to the unwritten rules of dating; quick replies is a sign that you’re not too busy for him and that, that is an added bonga to be redeemed in the aisle.

He went silent just when you were enjoying the hang of attachment. He began blue-ticking your messages, and just like that, you were drained again. Back to the square of loneliness. The last time you texted this is how the conversation went:

You: Hey there. How are you doing?

Expectation: Very good. I’ve missed you dear. (God knows you were already typing `I have missed you like crazy, our late night dirty talks, everything’).

Crush: Hey, good. You?

You: I’m great. Just checking on you.

Crush: Ooh, thanks, Niko poa.

You then realized that the conversation was going to the drainage and cooked something up; I’m off to bed, goodnight. He replied 8hours later at 4am. This was the genesis of the silence. You searched your soul for answers of why he muted. You even started apologizing for things you thought you did.

You: `I’m sorry for that Friday night I called you an asshole; I was just pulling your leg.’

(You drink blue ticks)

You: (2minutes later) Hi, are you there. Did you get mad because I brought up my ex, it will never happen again, I swear.

(Online: you drink blueticks)

You: (a minute later) Please talk. A problem talked is a problem solved.

(Online: you drink blueticks)

You: (5minutes later) Say something when you see this.

(Online: you drink blueticks)

You: (30minutes later) Sleep well when your bedtime comes.

(Online: you drink and eat blueticks)

You are back to the drawing board. YET AGAIN. More doomed this time. You want to scream and surrender at the same time then you remember Baba Lee, the father and ray of hope. He said that these young men are drivel; they will play with your feelings and leave your heart in pieces. When you left him, he stated that you would still go back to him and this means re-subscribing to the sponsorship program. He was amusing, you cannot rebuff that, well, except that his game (down there) was not A-game, he is better skilled in treating a woman skillfully. With him, you felt complete (somehow), especially because getting broke was never a disease. But then you hark back to that dreadful day when you received a call from a female with a heavy Meru accent. She used all sorts of threats on you before branding you a home breaker and all its substitutes. She said that if you want to taste war, shame, and reputation damage at the same time, you should get near his hubby or even dare to call him. You believed her; her words carried sincerity, determination, and hostility. Baba Lee is an option but after that Kitonga-JacobJuma affair, you cannot risk being a starring at Jicho Pevu. Certainly not; not that road.

Most of your girlfriends have now graduated to dating thanks to dating sites. You sign up at tinder and afro introduction; contact a professional to do a titillating bio, and put up your sexiest photo because men are attracted by what they see. Your profile must have lots of views that translate to emails; dozens of emails from tinder. That is a healthy ego booster; dating sites come with anticipation. You’re complimentary to many; you are something. You check through the profiles of all those interested and settle on three favorites. One foreign jamaa, and two local ones. You exchange contacts and keep in touch with the foreign one via 21st-century platforms. Once in a while, he will sambaza chocolates in monetary terms. He is generous yet you’ve have not met yet. You like him. But his plans for coming to Kenya? August 2018. If only your body and emotions could wait that long.

You arrange to meet the other two face-to-face and your girls advise that first impressions are everything, and you should dress to kill and portray a personality to die for. You buy new clothes, undo your hair and visit your salonist for the best hairstyle. She does not disappoint. You call uber and you’re dropped at that laid-back hotel. You arrive before him because he is stuck in jam; it’s the coolest lie for any Nairobi dweller even when the background suggests that he/she is in the house. He finally comes one hour later and does not leave the apologies behind. He does them in deep Sheng and that alone is a turn off because you had practiced English; proper English the entire night. It will sound odd when he speaks his sheng and you reply with English of the nose. You thus allow him to do more of the talking. He orders stoney, and you had already ordered milkshake. He asks you if you’ll have anything else and you decline because in-between the apologies he had mentioned that he had forgotten his wallet and had trouble paying the matatu. It’s a wasted day; you wasted your attire, money, and only go home with a milkshake filled stomach. Milkshake that you paid because he delayed and in there, you pay on delivery. You block him.

The next guy invites you to a relaxing hotel you have to consult Google map a million times to get the location right. This time, you don’t use uber. You both arrive in time and he even pulls the chair for you; you feel heavenly. He tells you to order anything. When you go to such hotels, your goal is to eat what you will never find at home or at your local. You see `broccoli mon’. You’ve never heard of it and since it is on the snack’s side, you’re safe. It turns out to be the worst thing you’ve ever eaten but since you don’t want him to realize it’s your first time, you do 68% of the meal. Again, clearing the plate 100% is prohibited by the unwritten rules of a date; it dictates that a classy lady must leave some food regardless of the state of hunger. You start getting to know each other and realize he is a 39-year-old divorcee. That is the genesis of your hate for dating sites.

You’ve done everything men; everything even seating next to cute men in matatus, and when they don’t talk and you are ¾ the journey, you ask `hey, utaniambia tukifika stage ya kwa chief?’. This could lead to other questions like `wewe ni mgeni nini nini and he may ask for your number to confirm you reached safely. This could then be a happy ever after. These cute men hardly come through and when they do, it’s in a three-seater and they have company, female company.

You have gone to clubs alone with the dream of being approached. You order a glass of wine because you want to smell class. You are confident that someone will notice you, join your table and offer to top up then again you end up drinking that glass of wine for 2hours sipping after every 20minutes. I hear love comes when it’s least expected.

One day it will happen. Something magical will happen. You will fall in love and he will fall for you even more. That day is just not today, it was not yesterday either.

The Unique Mumbi

About The Unique Mumbi

I smile a lot; let’s just say I am a smiling machine. I have never felt how it feels to have an English name; in that case, you can call me unique. Writing became part of me after my first and best heartbreak ever. Wasn’t this man an angel? Slow internet makes me want to scream, and cashew nuts love me too.

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