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The douche-bag market where I do my shopping.

For the past ten years I have been actively involved in kissing frogs while I wait for my prince charming. In case you think this is a happily-ever-after kind of story, you are awfully mistaken. I mean check the title.

So, I have been a big fun of the douchebag market; though very unconsciously until two weeks ago. My friend Caroline (damn I have Carolines coming through my nose, am talking about the one with the accent) were hosting our Friday show in our very big-ass radio station. The topic was about the issue of age and relationships. Being an excellent controversialist, I chose to lean on the side that age does in fact matter very much. It’s ironical considering the ka-ben 10 I have as my arm-candy. My main premise was that women mature faster than men which is essentially common sense. I mean, you date a man your age and he shits in your mouth; literally.

Speaking of shitting, the other day my friends and I had an argument about what you should do if you caught your significant-other in the ‘physical act of love with another’. My pals were of the opinion that you should just walk away. I, on the other hand, just being me, I thought that you should remove your underwear, and take a dump on them. Just imagine it! Tit for Tat is a fair game, no? You would be scarring them the same way that they scarred you just to be honest, don’t you think?

In my 10 loyal years to the douche-bag market, I have been with a boy who asked me for money every step of the way, a thief, a complainer, a serial-womanizer, a peddler, a psycho and a guy who asked for money a lot. You should see my re-battle on Zero Chills TV, or you can just any of my friends.

You are probably thinking, “Damn (remember Kendrick?), she has been around a lot.” It’s not like I do not agree.  That’s poetic justice. My friend Eddie Ashioya advised me to kiss a lot of frogs because that would lead me closer to prince charming. We both agree, therefore, that this is no fault of mine.

The Douche-bag market opens up every day and is everywhere, you just have to be a willing customer to see it. Seriously, just look around you, wherever you are, you see that guy looking at you or pretending not to, bam! You are locked into the douche-bag market.


Of all the douche-bags I purchased (too many guys who want to exchange a kiss for money) at the douche-bag market, I have to admit that the leeches were the best. Damn! So after I purchased the douche-bag, I took it home, as you normally do. There was something about his enthusiasm in depleting my food, Jesus! This guy could eat for a living.

But points for enthusiasm! However, the house-food wasn’t enough for this guy. You know how you walk with your arm in his in the evening thinking how lucky you are? Most guys would say, “Babe, why don’t I buy you some coffee as we talk” Not this guy. He didn’t beat around the bush, “Babe, unaeza nibuyia mutura, manze niko muchies!” and you know, me being the independent girl I am, well you know how it goes. Well, all you need to know is that every month, a third of my salary went to his new business deals which all of the time fucked him up. Stop judging me. That’s being supportive to your man. Like Nyashinski says, “Nishikilie kama siri, nikimake it in life pia nikushikilie mimi” I like how guys quote that song every time I’m around them. Fine, I got to agree, that was so fucking stupid.

There was this other one that used to complain about everything and particularly, the system (you herbal people). What system though? Of course he was a loser, had nothing to his name but he had big dreams! Lupita Nyong’o, now why go lie to people like that? I mean, at one point, this guy thought he could be a reggae musician and would so often quote Bob Marley, am really sorry legend. At another instance, he insisted I support his guitar learning by contributing three-quarters of the purchase. Jesus! Well, I didn’t and this led to a huge argument about how I didn’t support him.

So the psycho. My God! The arguments never ended. One time it was that I had myopia for not seeing how handsome Jah Cure was. Another was about the Vietnam War. Another on why I don’t like colour blue. Whenever this guy would start shouting in his Luo accent, only my thoughts made it easier and the restraint that I have to shit.


Of all my douchebags, I love the serial womanizer the most. This guy’s dreadlocks can take your breath away! One time my friend found him at my neighbour’s house when I hadn’t seen him for like a week, since he was at home, and he said he was even passing through my house. This guy was a now-you-see-me-now-you-don’t kind of guy. It got to a point I just couldn’t be mad at him. I mean I would see him downstairs in another’s embrace, then at my neighbour’s. Oh and there was this time, some mean girls almost shanked me because I was ‘sleeping’ with their friend’s man (no dad, I wasn’t). Oh well, some four weeks later I found out that all of them were also sleeping with him. It just became a comedy from there on until we broke up two days ago. I know, stupid, stupid (am actually hitting my head against the wall).

In my ten loyal years at the douche-bag market I have dated a serial womaniser, a leech, a thief, a psycho, a peddler, a complainer, all in one man! Genius, no? And my current mistake, he is also from the douche-bag market. Where’s the popcorn at? Lights off and now, let the show begin. I promise I will tell you about it.

By Gemini Spice

Creative And Vivacious Poet

10 thoughts on “The Douchebag Market I”

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