In simple terms there is someone from everybody, there is an Eve to that Adam with the dyed hair and piercings all over that plus route 58 as a tout on the ‘nganyas’ there's a Romeo to that Juliet who works at the salon next to Mcfrys on Mfangano street, there is the occasional flashy and colorfully dressed Mark with his loud Subaru STI that always seems to be eyeing Marto the movie guy at my estate.
Marto apparently thinks the ‘smokie pasua’ and meatballs he brings him every other evening is a sign of appreciation, tell me how someone cruising in a guzzler would need to buy single episodes of Game of Thrones Season 7 for 3 weeks. Well, in all these I am simply the only one who seems to have no luck with women, I have tried to a point I have decided I would date any! Moving object of the opposite sex. Tell me how it is that a friend who managed to get out of a 5 year relationship right into another regardless of the fact that he doesn't even reside in the CBD.
A dude from Dala straight up went and hooked up with a 8.5 girl from my hood in a week and left me still the Dull young man I currently am.
I am at a point that even the lady neighbor from the estate, while collecting water to try beat the current water insufficiency mentioned to me how I should call my girlfriend over to clean some of my not so flashy khaki pants and tees. Surely ‘mathe’ ,what girlfriend?
Last time I had a lady over Uhuru and the hustler Ruto were still fighting Hague cases. Unga was still ksh.90 and I was still trying to define what photography is. Just last week on my random beck and call with a friend at the famed Kenya National Theater I did get an experience worth forgetting. There she was seated, 5ft4, beautiful, smartly dressed swear you would mistake her for a church girl from the dress she wore (what lady still swears knee length dresses in this Nairobi?)
Quite petite she was with her glasses on oh how I love them blind sometimes (well not literally) .Her name was Candy, and no I am not making this up, Candy, the fine lass from Strathmore University, oh how I could use myself some candy right about then. Who would blame me, the wells have dried up and some of us are indeed going through some spells that involve no wet substance.
For a moment there she actually managed to forget what year in campus she was, damn Ochola you really had her awe struck, or so I thought. I made her laugh, I made her smile , she made me dream again, I saw the wedding reception, I heard the wedding bells. She also happened to be a blogger, oh destiny could be far off now could it?
Then something out of the odd happened on guy from the band I was out to listen came and stood next to her beckoning "we have to leave, it’s getting late!" ‘Mnasemanga dunia isimame nishuke right?’ That was quite heart breaking, demeaning indeed, enyewe Nairobi tulikuja ujenzi and there's no one for Muganda. The saddest thing to cap it all was when I tried getting her phone contact but she ended up referring me to the email address on her blog.
The gods really aren't on my side one bit. How do I go from dream make out sessions with Candy all the way to an IP address? Indeed there will be no candy for me anytime soon to feed on.