Saturday, 14 September 2019 22:51:11

His Story, Her Story

Why Women Are from Kenya and Men Are from Uganda


HER STORY...

On Friday, I was supposed to take him out.

I met him six months ago, and he's such a wonderful person. He treats me right and makes me feel so special. I am now 34, and no other man has made me feel so loved, so appreciated, and so secure. He is only 27, but he is responsible, caring, and mature.

I wanted to thank him for being so nice to me and for standing by me since my mum passed away two months ago.

I was out of town for two days, but I had planned to be back in Nairobi by 8 pm. I called him at lunchtime, and we agreed to meet at my favourite sports bar in Westland at 9 pm.

My drive from Nanyuki was steady; but, after Sagana, Nairobi-bound traffic was heavy and slow. As a sales representative, I do this trip regularly, but traffic is never this slow unless there is a problem ahead.

By the time we reached Kakuzi, it was 8 pm and we had slowed down to 20 km per hour. Since there was no oncoming traffic, some of the Nairobi-bound cars started to overlap.

I am a very disciplined driver, and I abhor this kind of behaviour. I believe that if every driver stuck to his or her lane, traffic would flow more smoothly, and each one of us would get to his or her destination faster.

However, on this day, I did not want to get late, so I pulled out and chased after the queue of overlapping cars. However, my race came to an abrupt halt when the Range Rover ahead of me stopped suddenly, and I swerved out of the road to avoid banging it from behind.

I was not hurt but I was shaken, and my car suffered a slight dent on the passenger side.

I called him to tell him that I would be late, and he said it's OK, he'll wait.

I did not tell him about the accident - because I did not want him to get worried. Besides, the last time I allowed him to drive me, I quarreled him for overlapping. If I told him what happened, he would find me hypocritical.

By the time Boda Boda operators helped me push my car back to the road, it was already 10 pm, and I arrived in Nairobi at 12:30 am.

I found him seated alone at a corner, browsing his phone. There was an empty glass in front of him, and he seemed bored and disconnected from the world around him.

But I understand. A sports bar is not his idea of fun. He is more at home hanging out with his buddies in makuti pubs on Thika Road. He says he finds this club snobbish

Most of my girlfriends that we hang out with are not around today, and he was probably unable to start a conversation with anyone else.

I sensed something was wrong when he did not stand up to hug me like he usually does: opening his wide arms the way a hen opens its wings for its chicks, wrapping them around me, and allowing me to bury my forehead in his six-pack. Instead, he just stretched out his hand and said "hi".

I sat opposite him, but all my efforts to cheer him up were unsuccessful.

"Have you taken dinner," I asked.

"No," he replied, his face still glued to his phone.

"Can I order you something to eat?" I asked.

"No. I am not hungry."

"How about a drink?"

"I just took a coke. I'll not drink anything else."

I had never seen him like this before. He was cold and indifferent, and I wondered why he had changed so suddenly.

I thought it was because I was late, but I felt he should understand because he too is a perennial late comer.

I ordered a quick snack, and I ate it quietly as I tried to figure out why he was acting like this.

At one point, he told me that Betty, my best friend, had passed by, but she had left an hour earlier.

"Who was she with?" I asked,

"She was alone. She was seated where you are seated," he replied, still browsing his phone.

I apologized for being late, and he said: "OK, I understand."

His sounded disinterested, so I did not explain to him what happened.

He said he was tired, and I asked him if we could leave.

"Can we go to my place?" I asked.

HE: "No, I'll go to my house."

I: "It's late. Can, I drop you home?"

HE: "No, I'll take a matatu."

I got angry and left him there; but when I got home, I could not sleep.

I had hoped we would spend the weekend together, but the turn of events had thrown me off-balance. Besides, there some nice gifts I had picked up for him at TRM, and I had hoped to present to him over the weekend.

It has been eight months since my last break up, and I have no strength left to deal with another one. I want to settle down, and he's the one person I connect with so naturally.

I wondered what Betty told him that could have upset him so much?

Could she have told him who I had gone to meet in Nanyuki? If she did, I'll never forgive her. That bitch. Why can't she keep her mouth shut?

She is supposed to be my best friend; and, when I tell her my secrets, she is supposed to hold them in confidence.

I wanted to give her a piece of my mind; but, when I called her, her phone was switched off.

Yesterday, his phone was switched off the whole day. I went to his house three times, but he was not there.

In the evening, I passed by Mildred's, my other friend, and I explained to her what happened. She told me to beware of such guys.

"Guys whose moods change suddenly are not predictable. They are the kind that can hurt you later," she said. "I have dated such guys and I know they are hypocrites," she added.

She told me to drop him.

Today, I went to his place after attending church; but his neighbor told me he has not seen him since Friday.

HIS STORY...

Arsenal Lost.


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