Hi. My name is Wanjiku, or Ciku. Not Wanjiru, Ciru, Wambo, Njeri, Njoki or Kui.
I just never get to understand why brothers from the drifting Rift and the lakeside like to mix up these names. Do they sound the same to you, because they sure don’t mean the same! The alternative is unthinkable of since I can’t imagine a guy mixing up my name with his wife’s, mistress, girlfriend or crush.
A few months back, July to be specific, and Tuesday to be particular, I made a stop at a mall to restock on a few household items that I had run out of or were in the verge of. It’s eight-ish, very cold, drizzly, and particularly dark with only a few half burnt security lights on.
My shopping cart is so old with very poorly aligned wheels that I can barely balance the thing at the supermarket and later from the checkout counter to the lift and from the lift to the parking lot. I’d parked near the mall entrance and it’s a downhill trek that required a lot of upper body strength, which I lack, to keep the cart from bumping into other people’s cars.
Midway offloading the bags by the front passenger seat area, I sense I’m being followed. Someone’s behind me!
Nah…this is no thriller...I was safe. Sort of.
His outfit - the sneakers, track suit, sleeveless vest that exposed his partly hairy chest and if he bent just a little bit his nipples as well, the bandana holding in place his long half-bleached dreadlocks and the gym bag clearly made him out as a guy coming from the exclusive gym on 2nd floor I wish I could afford. Well, his scent too, but I thought pointing that one out too soon would come out wrong.
I liked his composure. A straight to the point kind of guy who doesn’t delve into One Liner Pick-up Lines like...' Do you have a Band-Aid? Because I just scraped my knee falling for you.'
Introduced himself - Ashton. Motive - Was intrigued by my beauty and how I carried myself. Intent – Would be interested in knowing me better so, was I single and available to get to know him too?
And you know what, there’s always something beautiful about ending a lousy day on a high note, and this was indeed a high.
This sure could be the beginning of a beautiful relationship, right?
Reality don’t take long to check in.
As much as he called me every morning and night, which I’m actually no fan of b'cos c'mon, how about a little time to miss you, I was very much looking forward to Saturday when it’d be our first official date!
I had Wednesday, Thursday and Friday to dig skeletons off the internet about this guy and well, the feels I had for him dwindled with every result.
One, he was younger. Two, two baby mommas. Three, clubbed far too much, though he claimed he was a teetotaler. Four, he was a personal trainer. Five…
In one of our conversations, he pointed out that he had spotted me as I shopped. So, this guy followed me around the aisles, waited for me to check out, followed me up to the parking area all along watching me struggle with my cart, and once I was done unloading, decided to approach, at a God forsaken hour in pitch black spot.
This is far beyond 2nd degree stalkery (sic).
But, according to him, he just needed to make sure that I didn’t have some dude waiting for me in the car.
It’s Saturday, meet-up at 2:00pm. All along, I had been asking about the where and when, but he always shrugged it off.
How is it that I’m set to go out on a date in a few hours but don’t have any idea about anything? I pretend to be all polite as ‘good church girls’ are supposed to be and let him know that it’s okay if we rain-check it.
This doesn’t go well with him so he asks that I send a Pin to my home and he’ll come by and we can chill and, he’ll cook us something. Apparently, he's a wonderful chef.
Not Happening! I don’t do House Dates with strangers. I tell him.
He takes offense that I’m calling him a stranger and goes mute for the rest of the day.
Later in the night he sends me a Pin to where he is at and that I should join him. It’s a location in Lavington but seems to be nowhere in particular, for it's pinned in the middle of the road.
No Night Dates too. I got to know you during the day. I text him.
‘Unaogopa? I won’t do anything to you!’
The moment I saw that response I knew it was time to activate the block button but, silly old good natured me...
On Monday, he’s back at it again. Proclaiming his love and gas-lighting me for not trusting him and apparently, standing him up.
On Tuesday, which is an impromptu national holiday, we decide to meet at the mall and, finally go on the date that I’ve been ‘nagging’ him for.
I’m thinking there are dozens of cafés and restaurants around, so, sure, he must have picked one.
Nine minutes later the guy shows at the parking lot, clad in his usual gym attire and a tang of scent with one smoothie on his hand. His smoothie. He gets into the shotgun and is like,
“So, where are we going?”
Never in my life have I been so turned off.
“You didn’t make plans? I thought you’d chosen a place already.”
“I’m easy. I’m cool with whatever choice you make. It’s your treat so it’s all about you babe.”
I’m looking at this guy and wondering, How on earth did you manage to get two women interested in you, and have your babies? Oh, I get it, must have something to do with the house dates.
At this point I decide that no bleach is ever going to alter this red flag.
I decide I have numerous errands to run since you know, customers don’t give a hoot if it’s a holiday or not, all they care about is their orders delivered on time.
Upon hearing this, he changes tune and suggest ArtCaffé.
I end up going on a proper date with Ashton but, it was nothing worth reporting. I had lost so much faith in the guy that I had to whisper to the waiter that the bills got to be separate. I was suspect of his likely tendency to dine and dash.
For the next 1 hour the guy is either on the phone with his 'celebrity' clients or talking about himself. No gentlemanly gestures like pulling the chair for his lady, putting the phone on silent, asking about my life, enjoying the pastry without hating on innocent calories, staying off my need to join a gym, not talking shit about his exes, tipping the waitress…
All along I’m thinking, ‘if this is all the fish that’s left in the sea, I’ll have to keep hibernating in my small, quiet and peaceful pond.’
Hours after the Disaster of an Encounter my muscle man thinks that was good date and we should do it again. He had no idea dates can be so fun. He knows a place on Kiambu Road we can hang out over the weekend. I could have my besties tag along cos’ his boys will be there too.
The date was so magical he no longer mistakes me for Ciru or Ciku, which he alleges sound similar. I’m his babe, his honey, his only darling, his mamaa.
All week along, he’s all about smothering me with love messages and calls. He can’t wait to see me. He can’t get enough of me. It’s like the more I give the more he wants, and that’s no lie.
There’s only way of putting an end to this insanity, I know. Either say Yes to the house date, or, ask him for a favor aka send me some cash. I opt for the latter.
He hasn’t been heard from since.
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