My love life is chaotic. It is like a cluttered kitchen sink full of dishes piled up, all the way to the lowest staircase of heaven. It is like tea made of ginger, sugar, salt, milk and pepper. The only thing keeping me sane is the simple fact that I’m in campus anyway, no one should be totally okay while in campus.
Here in campus, everything could be going wrong for you starting with dwindling GPA, to kungunis feeding on you, to you being hopelessly broke, to your crush referring to you as Small Sis and despite all this, God will still look down from the heavens and call you Child. Crazy, right? Yet all this happens on God’s green earth.
My love life is just that, a love life. Nothing is normal about it. I have tried every decent relationship on earth (not true). We have tried distance relationships and they backfired terribly on us. That dates back to early first year. I still laugh to date when I think that I even wasted a year crossing oceans for people who could not jump even a puddle for me. Nowadays if I have to do a distance relationship, that guy better be in Khartoum, Madagascar or beyond. Where is Khartoum, again?
Word of caution, if you have a weak stomach, do not try distance relationships. These people can pull the carpet right from under your feet and you go tumbling faster than a drunk man in Mukuru kwa Njenga.
We have also dated the godly men. Hallelujah Saints kind of men. I mean, who doesn’t want a husband who can speak in tongues? Actually, the right question is, who wants a husband who can speak in tongues? I have had guys who can call God by all His 8 names, Jireh, Rafa, bla bla within one short prayer. They always find a way of biblisizing everything. (This grammar is horrible btw). They could even pick a random verse from the book of Joel or Philemon or Revelation and use it to describe your beauty. By the time they are done, you are not sure whether to smile or to just run away before it is all too late.
And so they will torment you in the name of dating you by constantly complaining about the length of your skirts and sleeves of your blouses. They will admonish you in the name of the trinity if you skive one religious meeting among other things. I could go on and on about kina Bartholomew and Nebuchadnezzar but then again, there is more to my love life than these brethren.
I have also met these guys who meet you today and they feel like they should marry you like yesterday. Look bro, I aint marrying you until I know the shoe size of all your ancestors and the number of teeth they had in their mid life. So for these guys I had to make up a story about my dad owning 10 ferocious black dogs and we can guess how that story ended. Look, I am just but a broke and emotionally drained undergraduate whose degree doesn’t look like it is coming to completion anytime soon, so folks, we could go slow on this marriage thing.
Then there was this category of men who the word ‘bro’ was written all over them. They are kind and sweet beings, yes, but everything about them just makes you want to say amen or lol. Starting with the way they articulate their words to the way they speak fondly about their grandmother’s maize farm. They are bonafide bros and are never coming out of that zone, ever. So, God bless their souls.
I am not immune to crushes as I always claim to be. Surely four years was long enough a time for me to notice some fine gentlemen along the way. Some crushes made sense. The kind which I still look at, years later and proudly mumble, ‘best husbands I will never have’.
There are also those other crushes I developed maybe while I was high on Coca cola or some cheap liquor. I look at them months later and wonder what I saw. Then, there are those crushes fro movies. Sigh. God did create some fine men, didn’t he? Let’s agree on that. And He made sure to create them in the morning just after having breakfast worthy of a King.
There is this day we were watching a movie with nanii and he asked ‘do you think that guy is cute?’ And my guardian angel whispered to me, ‘my sister, say NO. And say it loudly. It is a trap.’ Good people, mtu asikudanganye, honesty isn’t needed in some instances.
You are probably wondering if am actually involved with someone and how he puts up with me considering the fact that sometimes I can sound like a bitter, 37-year old spinster with 3 cats. First, I am a normal human with a beaten yet poorly stitched heart, so a little bitterness is an indulgence I can afford. Some say that I am too sarcastic for a girl, they could be right. Sarcasm is life anyway. Nanii (acha tumuite hivi) thinks I am a super beautiful mess and insists that I am perfect. (Surely Neon, why do you lie in broad daylight when we all know that I am fifty shades of imperfect?)
I should tell you that we have also dated the category which does not recognize that Colgate Company is God’s gift to mankind? I still cringe when I remember how loud they speak and in very close proximity despite the stench emanating from their chambers. However, there are some categories we do not venture into even if they look like James Bond or William Levy. First, there are these people who eat like there is a grinder in their mouth and chew like a fat bull ploughing through some bush in Mariakani. How can I forget this breed of men who keep dming you ati ‘nitakuja kwako lini unipikie?’ Ama’ nitakuja kwako lini kukutembelea?’ I don’t know what went wrong during their upbringing, but this is no way to woo a girl. Nah. Ask a girl out properly. Hizi maneno za ‘utakuja kwangu lini’ aiii nooo.
Lastly, my dear men, it pays to be intelligent. Or to sound intelligent, in the least. And tall too. The Clint’n Nyamongo type of tall. His height keeps restoring my faith in the human race every time I am almost giving up. (In between 2016 and 2017 the O in his name became silent, hence the apostrophe. Check out his blog too. This learned friend writes English that was brewed inside the water pot of a curvy African girl.