I always start a story with “I was drunk” but not today. I wasn’t drunk, I wish I was but the month was on that final stretch where every penny counted. I didn’t have enough to spare and god-knows I don’t touch my savings.
My savings is that broken TV set that has a big do not touch sign on the switch. Ever had one of those? The Sony trinitron or the JVC F series? The ones that came on like a high voltage transformer with a high pitched sound as the tube powered up? The ones you so loyally watched the age of Conan, WWF before they decided to get rid of the F and add an E, where every weekday KTN had themed music shows from Kass Kass to the Friday urban one I can’t seem to remember, and we had TV Africa which most might remember as STV that had the most awesome cartoons like the magic school bus, ghost busters oh and men in black. The ones where you had to have an aerial and a booster to receive strong signals. The ones with no avail port so you had to connect the VCR to the rf. For the youngens in sorry I had to go all archaic on you. So yes my savings are like that TV. My savings is that innocent girl that likes you but you won’t dare touch her. You know she’s not the pretentious type that acts good just for the cameras. She’s genuinely innocent and still believes in popping her cherry on the wedding night. You on the other hand have that good guy demeanor but it’s just that. You’re nowhere near good and getting involved with her means having to step up to her level or dragging her down with you. Neither sounds appealing so you just stick to waving from a distance when she’s walking to church and you’re walking back in hangovered from a night out. Two parallel world’s never to meet. That’s me and my savings.
So I wasn’t drunk or planning to get drunk. Heck I wasn’t even looking to get sponsored I just wanted to lay on my bed and have a quiet night in. I wanted to have an intelligent conversation on sponge bob that’s all – pretty simple right? Wait for my internet to run out and deliberately send a goodnight message that I know will get delivered at 8 am and convince the other person it’s the thought that counts. Females love sentimental tidbits here and there it’s like seasoning to their soul food. If you can make it sentimental you can get away with it. I have a pal who turned his cheating into a sentiment said something about that being with another woman and not having any emotional attachment meant he was fully committed to her heart. In a nutshell guy said he can be committed to the heart but not the genital because everyone has a genital but not everyone has a beautiful heart. Outrageous? Well, they’re still together! I was playing some Walking dead soundtracks because it reflected perfectly what I was feeling – a zombie with a dead social life until my phone brrred into life.
Have you ever been out having fun? Ever notice how your phone doesn’t ring? Not even once, not even the irate safaricom messages urging you that you need to top up. What’s up with that though safaricom? The new messages from safaricom are straight from a naija movie script – too dramatic. Why would they say my bundles are almost finished? Kwani they stole the pastors bible? “Oh, broda your bundles a almost finished ooooh. A beg… a beg now… please, top up.” Tone down safaricom save the mellow drama for more important things like defaulting mshwari loans. These are just bundles it’s never that serious. So anyway the phone brrred into life and it’s one of my friends. Conveniently they are in a club having two for the road and ten for the night. They want to know where the heck I am. I confess that I’m broke and they laugh. Here I am on the verge of financial breakdown and the guy laughs, so much for friends. He doesn’t believe a word I’m saying. He thinks that the only reason I’m MIA is that I’m cuddled up with some female playing husband. It’s not such a bad thing is it? But there’s a way my friend puts it you’d think you’ve betrayed the whole of mankind. You end up defending yourself just because there’s no girl you’re cuddling and your title as chief beer drinker is at stake. Now if there was a girl I’d proudly admit to be cuddled up playing husband. It beats being out at a bar on a cold Friday night having sweat riddled girls shaking their generous behinds next to you trying to act seductive but miserably failing. Ever seen the animals that ate the marula fruit and got drunk? That’s how some look, that’s nowhere close to sexy. But you’re inebriated so you dance anyway and end up kissing some random mama with mutura or is it mshikaki mixed with king fisher typa breath. I shake off the idea, and bid the guy farewell amidst a tirade of insults. Safe to say I had to put my phone off but not before sending out that sentimental 8 am goodnight text. Besides safaricom was already getting mellow dramatic.