I know I have been on this dating matter for quite a while now. I should probably pack up my six-inch heels and stop whining on national newspaper about my dating woes.
But I will not close this dating chapter without an encore. I have one last thing to say about dating and then I will be done.
The year 2015 holds a tonne of promise for me. This will be the period I will finally land my six-foot-three-inches handsome prince charming who drinks either fine whiskey or Whitecap Lite, drives a sleek silver Mercedes Benz, smells great and wears a navy blue hat on weekends.
But as I embark on my dating journey, I have come up with a clear-cut list of blokes that I will steer clear of this year and hopefully, this list will help me sift through the myriad of suitors at my door, separating the cads from the gentlemen.
- The braggart
On a ridiculously hot Tuesday afternoon in early November last year, I met a guy in traffic. I winked at him and he smiled back. He gave his card to the newspaper hawker to bring it to me and I signalled him that I would call him before speeding off Uhuru Highway.
I did call him a week later. And we met a day later at Java Kimathi Street in Nairobi. That was one of the most horrible dates I have ever been.
He was a single guy in his early 30s. He was doing very well for himself as a ‘tenderprenuer’. The people who win tenders to supply government with biro pens, surgical gloves and cotton wool and make millions overnight.
He was devastatingly handsome, quite tall with a body I would have loved to see without a shirt on. It was all fun and games until he started name-dropping and bragging how he had lunch with Gatundu South MP Moses Kuria and dinner with Nairobi Governor Evans Kidero.
I was falling over myself with lust until he told me how he landed a government tender worth Sh38 million and he assured me that I was not dating ‘a loser’.
Of course I did not mind that he plays golf on Tuesdays with CEOs at Windsor hotel, but I did mind every minute he spent reminding me how much money he had.
We went for a second date and he started bragging about me to his friends, introducing me as “Huyu ndiye Njoki Chege…ule anatukananga watu kwa gazeti. Ni huyu hapa!” (This is the Njoki Chege who insults people in the newspaper. Here she is!).
I know it doesn’t sound like ‘a brag’ but trust me, you should have seen the sparkle in his eye and proud smile as he made me his object of pride. So this year, I am keeping off the braggarts who like to remind me that the Deputy President’s personal assistant is ‘pestering him for a meeting’.
- The preacher
A good friend of mine told me that if I wanted a boyfriend, church would be a nice place to start.
The men there are cool, calm and nice. They don’t drink alcohol and they don’t smoke shisha. They love Jesus and will raise my children in the way of the Lord. Right? Wrong!
I will not say that I took his advice, but what I will say is that I started opening my eyes a little wider when I was in church. God was on my side and I chanced upon a fairly good-looking 34-year-old lawyer.
He seemed like the kind of guy my dad would approve of; goes to church, impressive investment portfolio and doesn’t drink alcohol. Okay, he drinks whiskey but in moderation. Well, at least that is what he told me and did when we went out together on Friday nights.
I thought I had landed ‘the one’ until one day I discovered that he had a baby mama and an eight year old son in another city that he had forgot to mention!
The idiot was married and there he was, on the second date preaching to me about purity and the importance of keeping ourselves pure for the Lord as we await our holy union. This year, I am staying clear of hypocrites who preach by day and tryst by night.
- The politician
There is a crop of young and hip politicians who are ambitious and some doing quite well for themselves.
While a few are married, some are unmarried, looking for wives to be their ‘first ladies’, and what single city girl would not fancy a young and promising politician?
That would be me. Politicians, especially MCAs are not in my radar of dating. Libidinous lawmakers; those finger-biting MPs need not bother with me.
I will categorise the married man with the politician because married men are just like politicians – selfish liars who want you to share them but won’t agree to share you.
So married men, don’t call or text me in 2015. And those who go against this directive will be named and shamed on this space.
My kind of man in 2015 is a well-read and intellectually nimble gentleman. The kind of guy I will give a chance this year is a successful businessman, or a corporate eagle with a promising future and it will help if he smells of designer cologne. One’s who’s fragrance will be left in my beddings – for long. Nairobi News follow me on Twitter By Clicking Cyprian Nyakundi