- But the unfortunate thing I have come to realise is that the young men I am supposed to date are far from being men. They are boys. Tall boys with blue Subaru Imprezzas who drink cheap liquor on weekday nights and show up to their workplaces the next morning hangovered, smelling like a brewery.
- Who has time for a man whose idea of fun is Masaku sevens and “NaxVegas’. Not me! How, pray do tell, do I get into a relationship with a young man whose only achievement is that cut-rate Toyota Mark X whose car loan he is struggling to pay?
- The refined men, on the other hand, are a slice of heaven. They are critical thinkers. They are gentlemen of chivalry. They are experienced. They are well groomed.
The last one week, I reconnected with two male friends I had not seen for ages. The lingering question was ‘So are you dating?” Or ‘Iko kajamaa kamekufurahisha?” (Is there a young man that has impressed you?).
I am not dating anyone right now, I tell them as I hastily move on to the next topic before they demand answers.
Even my mother, who for as long as I can remember always told me how ‘boys are bad’, is now asking if I am bringing a ‘friend’ this Christmas. Sorry mom, I will be flying solo this Christmas, and the next one too.
I sigh every time a well-meaning person asks me why I am not dating. Mostly, the answers I give skirt around ‘I am too busy with work and school,” or ‘Jesus is the only man in my life’. Okay, maybe the second answer is a lie, there are quite a number of them but that is not the story here. The real answer, ladies and gentlemen, is because there is simply no men my age to date.
GUYS I SHOULD DATE
I am a few weeks shy of 25 years, which means that the guys I should date should be aged around 28-30 years. Maybe 33 years if I am to stretch it.
But the unfortunate thing I have come to realise is that the young men I am supposed to date are far from being men. They are boys. Tall boys with blue Subaru Imprezzas who drink cheap liquor on weekday nights and show up to their workplaces the next morning hangovered, smelling like a brewery.
Now, I lead quite a busy life. Actually, my life is busier than a brothel in a sailor town. (Hahaha, wrong example).
I am either at work or at school or sleeping off the fatigue on weekends. My nights are late, either working or studying. Or maybe binge watching episodes of Scandal and Covert Affairs. This means I am a rare woman to pin down. Which also means that I give you an hour of my time from my busy schedule, then you must have really impressed me.
I am not wasting any more time with this i-Phone wielding 29-year-old jamaaz whose only goal in life is to catch a few drinks at that goddamn strip club on Baricho Road that has very few millionaires.
I cannot have a coherent, meaningful conversation with these young Instagram braggats who feel the need to take photos of every bottle of cheap lager they imbibe. I am way beyond them and their intelligence levels are nowhere near half of mine. We are on different wavelengths.