B for BBC (Bold, Beautiful, Charismatic)
I had to ask myself, why am I sad? I got to a nice place, got lots of movies to watch, and my internet speed is on fire. I think about it, I’m like, what is wrong with me? Then I realized it was because I have a girlfriend. The truth is, everything was much simpler before I met this daughter of Eve. Someone said that relationships are basically finding the right ways to solve problems you never had when single, wueh!
(I better find a place to stay after she reads this.)
But what is it about women that you all don’t want to admit being wrong? Why can’t you all ever be wrong? What’s in you that won’t allow it? Nobody wants to admit they are wrong, but after a while, we guys are like, you know what? You are right; I was wrong. Women don’t have that. My girl is many things, but admitting she’s wrong is where she draws the line.
Women can never own up; have you ever noticed that? Men, we get in trouble, we’ll try to make up for it for months. We have to buy flowers, sleep on a couch, and figure out her favorite chocolate flavor.
But when this one gets in trouble, she goes, “look, either you get over it or not. Stop being petty about it babe” or “Can I be mad for a couple of days? Then I’ll be fine. I promise” Yet they are the wrong ones. And girls again, we are arguing, I am mad, then you pass pass infront of me with a mini dress. Okay it works but that’s not the right way to solve issues. (Keep at it though)
Men are the different ones. We are the ones that want peace. (Secretly, we adore your drama. We will complain, but we will love it when you act like possessed witches).
Sometimes, all we want to do is be left alone when mad. We want peace at home. Just sitting doing nothing, staring at the ceiling, and not being asked, “What are you thinking, babe?”
Women treat you differently at home and in public. At home, she’ll be yelling, “I can’t stand you.” “You are not even listening to me.” Then they shut you out and have a reason to bring that attitude for two days.
Then as soon as you get out in public, in matching vitenges (she forced you into), “this is my guy. Look how cute he is” Smh. But behind the scenes, behind the scenes guys…..
So here goes.
There is no sleep for the wicked, not my words. It is written in the black-and-white novel you guys call the bible. Mostly, Bubu is always up before me. The aroma of her preparing pancakes will act as my wake-up call, and occasionally, it happens when she is making the last pancake.
The day before yesterday, no, not that one, the other one, Bubu, decided to wake me up. ‘Kisses for breakfast early in the morning‘ is just a song you and I listen to. She slapped the sleep out of me, and for a moment, I thought we were being attacked. I rolled out of bed, almost knocking her down, and instinctively the first thought was to go under the bed where it was a little safe.
Still on autopilot, I stood fixed, blinking rapidly like a guy with a stroke trying to communicate. With a contorted sleepy face, I can’t remember whether I sucked or wiped the drool from one corner of my mouth, but I managed to ask, “What the f*** is happening?”
She gave me that look as if she was asking Really now? You’re going to pretend you don’t know what’s going on.
The last time something like this happened was a few months back. I woke up in the middle of the night to find her missing from her side of the bed, and I could hear her crying from the bathroom. Shivers down my spine, and immediately I was fully awake.
In the same way you’re tipsy in a club, feel your pockets, and there’s no phone, sober instantly! I thought she was sick or something had happened, only to realize my phone was missing from the charger on the wall. Aaaaaargh.
To be sure we’re on the same page, she was not holding my phone, not that I have anything to hide, but these creatures are not to be trusted. Girls will do everything to cry. So I knew I was safe somehow.
She spoke, “I had a dream that you are having an affair with Jesca.”
I refreshed all the tabs in my sleepy head, and honestly, I didn’t know whom she was talking about. “Who is Jesca again?”
“Jesca something. The lady that keeps calling you sijui work and stuff, you keep saying she’s your project manager,” Bubu retorted. “I saw her wearing that pink top of mine and you were both lying in bed half naked.”
“You just said it’s work plus she’s my boss who’s probably in her sixties, I don’t know.”
“So?” She slashed out.
“What do you mean, so?” Okay, now I am confused. “If you’ll try to kill me again, please let it be from someone who was born post Moi era.”
“Like Maxine? Wabosha? You love her, right?”
“Can we do this some other time honestly? I don’t even know Maxine that well enough to consider my options.”
“I can tell you don’t know Jesca that well either, but who are you? You still cheated with her.”
She wasn’t even blinking. The morning needed a full stomach. Or just someone to knock me into a 2-week coma.
Making my way to the kitchen, I badly needed a glass of water and that’s when I realized she prepared pancakes. Still, I’m looking forward to the day when she’ll ask me,
‘Top or bottom?’
Gladly. I’ll reply,
‘Like those pancakes, I am not done with you until I flip you both sides’
Inspired by Na’im Lynn