Let me tell you about that one time my drink was spiked

Ogopa wanaume!

Wine (Courtesy)

When they say that men are trash, believe every word of it.

Let me tell you about this one time some nigga tried to spike my drink. Wait, why I’m I over here saying tried to when he actually spiked it? You know, I never understand men and their nyeges. Like…like…how hard is it to ask for sex? “Iz how babe, kuna vile leo nadai ikus.” Well, yeah, that’s a bit gross but I have much more respect for that kind of a man than one who is such a coward, so much so that he has to slip something in your drink to get some pussy. Can’t you beat your own meat and sleep? Urgh, I’m getting angry and that’s not the point of the story. So anyway, I was selling some things online and you know how that goes – you post something on Facebook, sponsor it and boom, your DM is full of potential customers and rapists ay! This one guy, let’s call him John, wanted what I was selling and asked when I can deliver. I asked him when he was available and we agreed on a time and date. Since I left my naivety all the way naukoo in my early 20s, I decided to stalk this guy’s profile and lucky for me, he was unfamiliar with Facebook settings so I was able to take a peek into his life. John seemed like a decent dude. According to FB, he was working for some NGO and was a well-traveled, average looking African man seemingly in his mid to late 30s.

I was like ah pesa iko, this is a potential customer that will buy my shit without asking for discounts and all those other broke-Nairobian-excuses to spend less.

On the day of delivery, I messaged him on the DM and asked if we were still on and we agreed to meet after work at a mall in the vicinity. On my way to the mall, he messaged and told me to wait for him at a coffee shop in the mall as he was running slightly late, instead of waiting for him at the entrance, which was the initial plan. I agreed after all, free tea. With this Ouru government, having a cuppa tea in the mall has become a luxury many of us cannot afford. I sat, ordered some chai and told him where I was seated and what I was wearing. I had no jitters, after all, I was meeting this person in a public space, he was simply buying from me, giving me the money and that was it! Ain’t no harm in that right? John arrived shortly after, said hi, had a seat and immediately asked for the item I was selling to have a look first. I thought to myself oh wow straight to the point…many people should be more like John, skip the pleasantries and get to the damn point. He liked the item and paid me my money then asked if I had ordered for anything.

“Just tea? C’mon! Eat, order for anything…I’ll pay, don’t worry” he gloated while receiving a call on his iPhone Xs. The hungry hustler in me called the waiter and asked for food and John started talking to me after his call. “So, tell me more about yourself. Is this your hustle? Ama uko na job ingine?” He started. “How old are you? You look very young…are you single?...how’s a beautiful girl like you single?” The never-ending questions started flowing. To be quite honest, he seemed like a wealthy man and my gold digger sensors were on like a motherfucker! I did not mind making an acquaintance, no harm, right? John also ordered his meal and we ate as we chatted. I was enjoying my time, sweet sweet John even offered to help me get my new passport chap chap cause he knew a mkubwa huko Nyayo House. All this time, I was thinking to myself, wueh, sema kuangukia?!

At this point, we exchanged numbers and the date was going on great. He offered me to go for a drink at his house since he lived near the mall. Guess what I did? You guessed right. Bruh, I freaking said yes. Just one glass of wine and I go home…what’s the worst that could happen? Well, my stupid ass was about to learn. Don’t judge me, it’s not like you haven’t done some stupid shit either.

We walked to his modern ground floor apartment, he ushered me in and told me to make myself comfortable and as I was removing my shoes, he poured me some wine – quite a generous amount. To be quite honest, as much as I thought we had a bit of chemistry and all, I was still quite skeptical and felt a bit scared but I quickly reminded myself that it was just a glass of wine, I knew his name, his house, I had his phone number and the gate man had seen me go in. I mean…what could go wrong?

I grabbed the wine glass, sat on his recliner sofa, and kept myself busy watching the TV as he made himself some green tea - he had mentioned earlier that he was trying to lose weight. Guys, dare I tell you that on the second sip of that wine, I started feeling stars!

Nie reke guere!

See, I’m a serial wine drinker and I know the amount of wine that gets me to a level of being super tipsy and boy, I'm sure as hell it's not two sips of wine - especially when I have had a proper meal. I shrugged the feeling away but, in a few seconds, my heart rate shot up, I started feeling dizzy, so much that I could not even see my phone screen well. At that point, it dawned on me that I had been drugged. I was a virgin (at being spiked of course) and I knew that I had to immediately get the hell out of there. I rushed to door, my heart still beating, stepped on my shoes and opened the door, telling him that I had to rush as an emergency had come up. In that moment, I thought he would come from the kitchen and quickly grab me away from the door, you know, like in the movies. But he simply asked “How fast? Ata umeita Uber kweli?” Bro I didn’t care. I just wanted to be out of that house! I went to the gate and ordered a cab then went home which wasn’t so far from this rapist’s house (we are free to call him that right?). In the cab, I was still feeling very light-headed, very scared, my heart rate was still very high. On arrival, I could barely pay via Mpesa as I couldn’t see properly but I managed (strength of a woman). I got out of the cab, ran to my house and immediately forced myself to throw up. It was hard, I had just eaten not so long ago. Nothing was coming out, so I drank gallons and gallons of water.

I wondered if I needed to go to hospital. I was scared, would I wake up the net day? What the hell was in my system? Would I die? Why did two sips of the satanic wine get me drowsy? What if I had drank more? What if? Just what if? Was John’s intention to rape me? I had a million questions. I decided not to panic, drink my water and sleep and hope for the best in the morning. Luckily, I woke up in one piece, no headache, no nothing. And guess what? John had the freaking audacity to text me “Please tell me you got home safe?” guess what I did? Blocked his ass ASAP. When they tell you that men are trash, best believe every word of it!

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