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‘’By the way if you think this is a date where I pay for your food, you are wrong. But if you came with that idea tell me early enough so that I can go the M-pesa.’’ I almost bit my tongue the moment he spat those words. I found myself saying nothing and knowing the type of person I am, you know that was weird of me. I couldn’t believe it; I thought I was speaking to a different person. ‘Brian?’’ he was walking too fast I couldn’t keep up imagining we were in Tom Mboya street at Embassava Sacco. There is always that fear that those illiterate buffoons will undress you.

I met Brian on a bus from kawangware. I was on my way to Nairobi from an interview, a successful one, only we were never called for the actual job. Welcome to Nairobi. I was quite broke and hungry so I decided to buy some sugarcane. It was only 20/-. I figured I could walk home. So I got in the bus and sat next to this guy and grumbled my sugarcane. He was obviously irritated but who cared anyway. I could see him from the corner of my left eye watching me like, ‘’jeez, this girl.’’ Thank God for my dreads, they make me seem arrogant. So after I was full I sighed with relief then, ‘’hi, am Vanessa.’’
That’s how it’s started. We talked a lot for  persons who had just met but that’s me, I do that a lot. He was also from an interview and was looking for something to do with his life. Huh? Isn’t that familiar? He was quite open minded on issues about life and we found ourselves talking on a broad range of issues from family matters, politics, history etc. He was fun to talk to and he didn’t demand my presence. I could reply his text after three days and vice versa and none of us would complain. I thought this was heading to a good place though he was an atheist and I am fairly religious. I believe everything in this world is controlled by God.
Obviously after months of chatting we thought it was time to meet again. He told me he was taking me out on a date. Correct me if I am wrong, but according to my cognition, when someone asks you on a date, it means that they are going to cater for your bill, right? I have taken many people on dates paying for their bills and I don’t mind. Some chauvinists will fight with me on this but that’s my perception. It’s just good manners to do that. And if you know you are not going to do that it’s nice to tell the other sometime before that.
So the Dee-day happened to be on a Sunday. Normally I leave church at around 6 p.m. I told you I am quite religious. On this particular Sunday I left church at noon so that I could make it to this ‘date’. I went home and changed into something ‘phexy’ (for those who happen to have a large gap between their tits). My mom even lent me her perfume for this awaited date. I was obviously quaked I didn’t know if I would remember him.
So there we were. He had just told me he wouldn’t pay for my lunch. I thought of just saying thanks and leaving but I thought otherwise. I had to stay and show him I was a girl who got her own. I thanked God my friend Carol had just sent me some 800/- she owed me.  ‘’It’s cool. I didn’t expect less.’’ Mostly when I get angry I just turn sarcastic. I am not proud of it but that’s my defense mechanism, I don’t know how to offend. So I held my head up high as we entered Accra hotel. ‘’I chose this place because you said you don’t like the ‘’face you face me’s’’ he uttered. ‘’well, that’s cause I didn’t know that I was doing the paying.’’ I didn’t say it loud I just thought it in my head.
We ordered. Everything was expensive. We ate a meal of 450/- each. I ate to the last bit of the food. The conversation passed me by I just used all the skills that I have been taught about pretending to be a good listener. He said something interesting though. ‘’ I will pay for your drink.’’ It was the only sensible thing he had said during the hour we had wasted together. He also suggested we check out the bar and being a wine lover, there was no objection. So we had each a glass of cellar cask; white wine; my favorite. Now I could listen to his conversation honestly. Then he popped the question.
‘’how old are you?’’
‘’duh… Twenty one. And you?’’
‘’bull-‘’ everything made sense now.
The rest of the evening was a blur. The date ended at 6.00p.m probably because he had curfew. He was audacious enough to ask me to take him to the supermarket and help him buy black forest, ice cream and a soft drink for ‘someone’. And that was the most annoying date of my twenty one years.

By Wambui Ochieng'

Radical Feminist

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