Most of my friends don’t like it that I’m single or that I can say I’m single with a straight face. Most of them can’t and for them it’s one thing or the other; mostly the other, a situationship; because they don’t want to be the bad guy or a girl that’s just too over assertive. The girl that comes over on the weekend cooks and cleans before they are even up. Whip up some kickass breakfast and slide into bed to wake them up properly. So they make up excuses for themselves throw in love like a careless whisper and drown the rest of their words with a heavy swig of beer or whisky.
And it’s not like love is elusive for me, it’s not like it’s a thong wearing unicorn, I’m just those people that take forever to make a move and with how Nairobi is set up patience went missing together with NYS billions. A girl won’t wait longer than it takes her nails to dry for a guy and especially a guy like me. I don’t even have an avocado tree and that’s like the gold standard in the Nairobi dating scene, fine ripe avocados. You can take a girl through hell as long as you get her avocados on your way there. You can have a negative bank balance but avocados will get you in her good books. Thank God for avocados.
So when I’m out with my friends somehow the conversation revolves around my love life or lack of. They think I have somehow lost my mojo and can’t string a few words together to get a lass interested, so they offer advise. Most of which is absurd but I listen anyway especially if they are buying the rounds. It’s usually something along the lines of letting a lass change me. And it’s not ati like I wear diapers or soil my clothes, no, I’m supposed to let that lass in like the relationship Jesus and let her change my life and shit. Ati it’s what they live for. That if she thinks she can change you she will stay.
So what exactly are we supposed to let a lass change? I think the last time they made me change anything it was my mother and the bulb was out. So maybe I am supposed to start liking the likes of sweet reds and dry whites over the cold beers? Wear decent clothes and do away with the t-shirts and netted shorts? Maybe tone down on the sarcasm, irrigate the dry humor and smile often? Or maybe call people the love of my life, morning star, rose dew or something like that? Go for picnics at aboretum with a masai shuka, a basket with sandwiches and a heart full of love? Or maybe the idea of Sunday church at 9 am in matching ankara tops and the endless selfies later? Okay I love selfies hehe.
But then again these are guys with two or more girlfriends so I can’t question their wisdom something is definitely working for them. These are guys who have nicely browned chapatis on Saturday and delicious pilau on Sunday. They have iron pressed shirts on Monday and they don’t even own iron boxes. Shit they don’t even have cookers. They have Grants glasses for cutlery because they came free with the bottle. Wall art is a 40 inch tv constantly on VLC audio visuals wired to a home theater belting out fester skank. You can’t call them romantic, I mean what do you call someone who thinks shamba boy is rnb? Can’t spell Berres Hammond and the only John and Legend they know are liquor brands?
Then there’s that little thing that always comes up every time. I’m a writer. Always said with finality like it can solve world hunger, provide solutions for world peace and heal cramps in one breath. Who do people exactly think writers are? No seriously. It’s not like we have magic words we can say and bam, girlfriend. You guys si we are also human and probably have more quirks than the normal person. For instance if I’m comfortable with you I won’t look you in the eye when we talk. I will look everywhere but your eyes. And if you freak me out or for some reason make me shy I will look you dead in the eye. To prove a point to myself. Or maybe how I can’t have a beer if the label is not facing me. It’s weird but the label is the best part about a beer it’s like having a conversation with the brewer.
But I think my problem comes from the fact I don’t have a type. Like seriously zero standards. You can have an attitude like stale unbuttered bread and a face that won the word championship cage match against make up in the morning and I’ll still like you. I save my standards for more important things like whisky and movie quality. For real I can’t stand shit definition movie. It’s either 1080 or I’m not watching. Life’s to short for 480. Sometimes I compromise and make do with 720. I don’t get people that can watch camera copies. Those people can or are serial killers. They skin cats and soup them. They torture puppies and breed fleas. They text goodnight at 4 pm and still think kingfisher is wine. Let me tell you something kingfisher is as much wine as much as pee is lemonade.
On the plus though zero standards are a good thing. Don’t we already have enough of the world judging books by their cover? Don’t we already have enough people selling luke warm beers and calling them cold? Yes Peter or was it Paul? Cold beer is cold beer dammit don’t sell me beer that could’ve as well come from the microwave. But for the sake of peace with my friends and the constantly failed hook ups I will stop saying I’m single. How about it’s complicated? Sounds better. Sophisticated even. Yes I like it.
Hi, my name is Shad and it’s complicated.
PS: I offered to buy a reader beer and there were no takers. So I had that beer on behalf of myself and my disappointed alter ego.