Oh man! You were a good one. Please tell me you don’t have a dad pot. The last image I have of you is right out of a GQ magazine. Do you still have the three hairs on your upper chin? After a long day, droplets of sweat would hurdle there but they were steady enough not to drip. Your eyes were so kind and your smile was so genuine…ah the smile. You still make the best Ugali nyama, I swear. Just enough garlic and pepper to get the perfect flavour.

Out of nowhere you dumped me. Don’t even pretend you feel bad about it. You ghosted me for a fortnight and then there was silence. Reason?  Things were moving too fast. Six months later? You are funny.  You introduced me to all your people by my first name. That should have been my first clue, no?  YOU gave me the key to your house. I never left a toothbrush at your house because you said that ticked your sister off. That and the fact that her boyfriends drank all you whisky every time they came over. Well no toothbrush, no nagging, no pressure and yet six months later you ghosted me.  Then came the final call to close that chapter as I sipped iced tea at my favourite hideout. I hated you and iced tea from that day.

The reason you dumped me was because my career was a bit too shaky and you needed some financial stability from your partner. Go fuck yourself! I was 21. Those are were madness years. You did not have the right to judge me. I told you my dreams and you blatantly said, ‘Hai I don’t think that will work in Kenya’. You know who else was told she would never make it, Barbara Corcoran. Yes her boyfriend who was also once her business partner, told her she would not make it. Guess who is worth $80 million? Well I do not own a business worth $66 million. Yet. No one knows me. Yet. My dreams are YET to come true. I have not YET made it. But please keep my number. The Safaricom one, I lost the airtel one.

There is one thing you gifted me and I want to thank you for that. You told me I was a ball of negative energy. Well, true, I was. You did not help the situation. Four years later I am as blissful as could be. I took up yoga. Yes, I raise my heenie in the sky in the name of wellness not sluttiness. That simple phrase challenged me to be a better person and for that, thank you. Have a double on me.

Congratulations on your nuptials. I am a year late but still I raise pompoms for you. I met her at the Koroga Festival.   We were queuing at the mobile bathrooms. I had downed a couple of glasses of wine. I stared at her and remembered how stalking her drove me crazy.



“Nice music huh”

“Yes mafikizolo are awesome”

“Oh yeah, I love them. And your husband, I loved him.” (Did I say that out loud? Shit!)

” I am sorry. Have we met?”

:6’3’, light skinned, abs. He had them then, I am not sure about now. You would know. He had a killer smile. You know I would cry myself to sleep because of him? Congratulations on your wedding.”

The toilet door swung open and a lady with a short flowery dress walked out. She too was drunk. Well thank God. I had just had a conversation with my former killer smile boyfriend’s wife in my head.  I made a mental note to take some water. You were my bitter sweet. I wish you nothing but the best.



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