The Date

She reminds me of Mystery Lady. Supple skin, infectious smile and her eyes… Those tiny piercing eyes. I’d have sworn she could see all the filth gathered at the bottom of my heart.
“Are you even listening?” She asks, somewhat concerned, interrupting my adoration session. I don’t want to lie to her. It’s a promise I made the day that bull’s eye got slapped on her back by my temporal lobe. And so I look at her, smile and shake my head side-to- side guiltily.
“I’m sorry.” Goes the gratuitous apology.
“What’s up?” more concern. I look down at my groin, then back up to her. Dead in the eyes.
“Dude! You are unbelievable!” she shrieks, chuckling.
“That’s what she said.” I tease back.

How long?

We’ve been here for a couple of minutes. It’d have been longer but I got held up in that Kipande Road traffic. Maybe I’d have beat it had I left earlier, but the meeting with my client at Westlands took a little longer than expected. Bet that won’t be the only thing I wouldn’t be beating tonight.

Why Here?

This date was her idea. Well, not that I was entirely not for it but the thrill of an actual date before getting laid got me here now. Feels like 1960 all over again only with phones and internet. She had made it very clear that she wasn’t going to show up at mine before we went on a proper date. And so today I was prepared to spoil her rotten then ghost. Again, for the thrill. Ha-ha.

On Location

15 minutes later, I walk into the only joint in town with an ambient setting, great food and service. If you’re from around here you know how rare such a combination is, even for top buck. It’s been my joint for a minute, so I’m well known among the staff. A “Hi” here, a “Wamlambez!” there and I almost forget the main agenda.
For some reason, I can’t spot her in there, so I call her mid “Umenifichia white…” to my favorite waitress, Nelly. Call her my Resident Enabler, because wing-man is too mainstream!
“Ata ndio yule pale.” I whisper a tad loudly –man with the bass problems- while walking away. Nelly can wait. She’s not the reason I’m here; she knows that already anyway.

Salutations

“Man! You’re such a snob…” I get saluted. “…Hukuwa umeniona?” She’s a little offended.
“Tulia msee. You’re small enough to go unnoticed.” I retort, pulling her in for a hug.
She’s adorably short. Not too short. Just perfect short. Her hair smells like a healthy bank account, her neck like heaven and I’m tempted to grab her nicely compact derriere but that will have to wait. The urge to hold on a little longer and get carried away is a little overwhelming but I’m not out here to display my utter need for affection. I mean, am I not as G as they come? Or am I?

“You’re 18 minutes late.” I get scolded.
“A thousand apologies Mi Lady.”
“No explanation?”
Chuckle. “What do you take me for?” I retort.
“You really are an asshole, huh?” she shoots back.
“You’ll find out soon.” I conclude, handing her one of the two menus Nelly just gave me. It is a little dominance gimmick we devised… story for another day.

Order Already!

Single glance at me and I can almost feel the disgust from across the table. Her body language is mad loud. Her eyes. Even louder. Weirdly enough, I find that very attractive. And I just might keep provoking her just to get that reaction.

A couple of minutes in and she’s still flipping through menu pages. She notices me staring contemptuously at her, lowers the menu just enough to peek above it and hisses, “It’s my first time here. Give me time. I don’t know what to order, I am a woman.”
“Ai! Si sorry bas.” She has a point. They never know what to eat or drink these ones. Eons later, I place my mint lemonade order after she’s received her cappuccino. A whole 5 minutes reading through the entire menu just to order a cup of cappuccino! I’ll never understand these people.

My Poison

My drink lands on the table shortly afterwards and I can tell she’s appalled by the green gunk in a tall glass that I’m about to down. This was supposed to be a dinner date but she insisted on having coffee, so I was going to have whatever!
“Unakunywa miraa?” She’s got quite the mouth on her.
“Yes! Kangeta juice. Unataka?” nearly annoyed by her lack of respect for greatness
“Naah. I’m good! I’m not trying to lose weight!” she shoots amidst very annoying chuckles. Her jabs are well calculated.

Take me home

It’s been well over an hour since I got here, and listening to her talking about her day at work, annoying clients, my huge nose and long fingers is the closest to functional therapy I’ll ever come. There’s something about her that’s so relaxing. She feels like home.

But first, I’ve got to get her home before it’s too late.