So, the Simon happened in my early naive relationship years and after that I felt that I was grown up enough to face any male obstacle, grown enough to give these sons of Pharaoh a chance…again.
Let me tell you, it was one hilarious adventure. I met men I would be too embarrassed to tell my mum I even know, men who even the intervention of my ancestors could not save me from and even men I still call when my life is falling apart, since they are that solid.
Ooh and my almost sugar daddy landed at this point in my life. Wueh…..that man was such a creep in the most pure and unadulterated way!
Of all the sons of Pharaoh I met, we should really talk about my top two, not because they were the best, but because the experiences I had with them were so hilarious that I still crackle when I think of them.
But they were good shitty men who understood sacrifice is about heading in the middle of nowhere to see a girl you just met on Twitter.
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I do like to think that during those days of my youth I used to be a Twitter big wig *cue mega giggles*. We did not know the potential it had back then, but hey c’est la vie.
First guy, let’s call him Justice (son of Omukhulu) this man was smooth.
He used to be a journalist back in the day when dinosaurs roamed the earth. Now he is a dignified member of the society with club memberships and all.
We met through daily interactions on the hallowed streets of Twitter. He needed my help to get more followers and to get his message out there.
Being the kind soul that I am, I agreed to his request. We DM’ed back and forth for a while (cue more than a month but less than two).
He stayed far away from the capital city of Nairobi, so he invited me to his ushago home.
That time I had no idea what poverty looked like, so I took myself down there on the last Mbukinya bus, I guess you all already know where I was heading to in my determination.
I arrived pretty early in the morning and a motorbike was on standby for me. In my head, I am thinking how thoughtful is this son of Luhyaland.
His house was a pitiful sight but it was his and I liked him-ish, so I was okay with it, I think.
I assumed the role of a wife for all the 3 days I was there. Till today, we laugh about how I traveled all the way to the Uganda border for some D. The embarrassment I brought to my species can never be overstated, yet it was not even all that.
When I came back to Nairobi, he immediately pulled the ‘you are too good for me’ card and placed it bravely on the table.
“I can’t afford your lifestyle. I am just but a lowly paid journalist,” he said. I have nothing against journalists, but that one pulled my heart right out of them. I know not if my heart will someday return.
Anyway, we broke up before we even started dating. The ways of this world are unbeknown to man. To this day, he still calls and tell me I am the best part of him, since he still loves me as I was his first love. I have no clue what that man is talking about. I deny knowing it.
He said I was non-materialistic (he knows not my affinity to the finer things in life yet and the very expensive whiskey taste I have developed over the years). He wants to give me everything, now. Wow!
The son of Pharaoh got married and procured kids with the love of his life whom he remembered and ran back to just a few weeks after separation. Men are truly a special breed, I swear, but that is nothing to them.
Same man who could not spare fare for the student me during that era, now claims he wants to change my life and give me the life I deserve.
Here I am, minding my own business attempting to give myself that life (a master’s degree, good job and a sizeable debt later, but apparently the man feels he wants to change my life).
But not to worry, I unleashed my imaginary army boyfriend on him and, in as much as he still be sliding in my DMs, that’s the furthest he has the audacity to go.
Will I comfortable lie to you that after the embarrassment he gave me we never tumbled in the sheets again? No! But I, for sure, had learnt that the stick of a man was not mine for keeps.
We stupidly planned the future where he was a lawyer and I was the cultured lawyer’s wife, who played golf and hosted charities. Long shot, but the one month or two that we knew each other was enough to convince me that that was enough. I rushed back to reality.
After him, I met my Mt Kenya region lover. The one who told Justice to hold his drink because his wahala needed free hands and a naive soul. My Central Kenya lover, let’s call him CK, took my life by storm and spun it around and made Justice look like child’s play.
However, that’s a story we indulge in next week. Shall we?
