THE FIRST DATE:SORRY GIRLS

“Can’t someone invent something for us men to marry other than women?”

Those were words from Fred Flintstone after a particularly frustrating episode with his wife.

They say women are from Venus and men from Mars. This is in apparent reference to the fact that we can never quite understand what is going on in the minds of our female companions. The advantage though of having female friends though is that they talk. A whole lot. The things women share are scary. Absolutely terrifying. But that’s a story for another blogpost. Suffice to say that while a guy will shorten a sexual experience to “I hit that!” the woman has broken it down to her friends in terms of size, shape, length, girth, direction of lean etc etc. The caveat though is that this is very general or I have very slutty female friends. Hehe.

So I decided to look at the opposite side of the penny. A woman’s perspective on the idea of the first date. And the stories I got were hilarious. So I figured maybe I would try to help out both sides of the divide by sharing the mistakes guys make during those first dates. The question I posed was simple enough. What do guys wrong during the first date? These are some of the responses. 

The overtly sexual guy.This the guy who shows up on the first date and already has a nickname for the chic’s boobs. Hey the twins are looking good today. He is the dude who will linger too long on rubbing the shoulders or slip his tongue in her ear when he’s kissing her good night. Sure there might be some good sexual tension but that doesn’t mean you should slip into the chic’s car at the end of the date and growl about how you must simply touch her. That’s rape territory buddy.

HOW TO MEET SERIAL KILLERS.....

Articles, blogposts and prayers have been written about how social media has changed the very face of dating. That is as obvious as the fact that Njuguna Ndung'u is a deer caught in mathematical headlights. (Slight deviation here: WORST CENTRAL BANK GOVERNOR IN AFRICA? Really? Wow. That must really suck. How do you get worse ratings than Zimbabwe? Do they even have a Central bank or there's some random dude in a basement who gets up and guesses whichever exchange rate they are going to use? Egyptian CB governor was dodging bullets and still did better than you? Oh well.)

So now relationships begin on the web as opposed to in clubs after bacchanalian sprees.(look it up. Usiguess ati unafikiria unajua ni nini nimesema.) I miss the good old days when you'd hit on a girl simply because she lived next door to you hence you had no choice. She was the closest thing so you had to make do. Despite the overbite that would make it possible for her to eat stuff in the kitchen from the comfort of the living room. It was a far simpler time. You knew what you were getting yourself into.

But it's all new now. The worst bit? Everyone is a veritable celeb in some corner of the planet. You know what they say about everyone having someone? Social media has kinda made that true. Evidence? Remember that girl with the overbite? Check her pics on fb now. There are hundreds of guys drooling after her. Whispering creepy nothings and telling her how she's God's gift to the scorched savannah. It happens. Beauty is in the eye of the cross-eyed beholder.


Ok so you have talked for weeks and in that time he/she has charmed your socks off. And now you have no socks on and you are planning that first meeting. After late nights of chat and whispered conversations on the phone, it's finally that time to put your money where your mouth is. You are curious about whether she looks like her voice or whether she smells like her words (flowery words jameni) etc etc. Here's a simple guide about that first meeting.

1. Meet somewhere really dark and isolated. Why? So you can get your head hacked off and your guts harvested by some random collector. (I really have to stop watching some of these college-based horror movies). But for real. Make it a wide open space. Why? So you can get a whole lot of space to practice the martial arts move you saw on telly.

WHAT WOMEN WANT.

I haven't been single in a very very long time.Lets just put it this way, the last time I was single, Kenya had no IDP's or a Prime Minister and Mike Sonko hadn't entered into our collective conscience as a synonym to stupidity. Yes it was that long ago. But what happened? you may ask. Well it all started thirteen years ago. I was young. Fresh from a journey of enlightenment on the lofty slopes of the Himalayas in Kathmandu. After months of herding mountain goats and fights with sherpas, I was finally on the way to a better life. On those freezing slopes, I had met the love of my life.

And it all came to a screeching halt a couple of days ago. She busted me in bed with another girl. But it wasn't what it looked like. Here's the true story. The true Hollywood story. There had been a storm. A bone chilling storm. And this woman had stumbled into my tent seeking, nay, needing refuge.And so I had nursed her back to warmth. The rest, as they say, is history. Lets just say what happened next involves a very sensitive appendage undergoing frost bite and getting stuck to a metal pipe.

So now I'm trying to pick up the pieces. Trying to see if anything can be salvaged from this broken heart. It's a totally different dating landscape from what I remember. Back then girls weren't so tall. But then again that would be because they used to be kids so that came with the territory.

I haven't had any expectations. It's simple. I just thought things would kinda work themselves out then years later I would tell my kids this funny story about how I met their mother. Hmmm. Where have I seen that before? But alas! it hasn't been smooth sailing. Apparently women have no idea about what they want. I asked around and here is the idea of the ideal man. In brackets are the ratings.

1. Tall (which i am...if she's a midget), dark (extra melanin to go around) and handsome (ummm...errrrr...ask my mum) I actually got a rough average figure. basically you gotta be taller than her so she can check how clean you keep your nostrils. It is the standard by which hygiene is judged.

2. Must be sensitive which means he can listen to you (Understanding is optional), cry when touched (not touched by someone but rather when overcome by emotion) and to share their feelings (which can never be whiny or sad.) So you gotta be a talkative guy who listens.It doesn't cut the mustard when you nod, smile and say she is absolutely right despite the fact that she's told you that same story 53425 times before.

3. Must be in touch with his feminine side (which means he can cook but not be accustomed to singing along to Avril Lavigne or dancing with hands above his head). Research has found that women are 23 times more likely to run over a guy who dances with his hands over his head than not. This is actual research undertaken by real people and not at all by figments of my imagination fuelled by a long day.

4. Should be a manly man(meaning he should have all the positive attributes of masculinity without the grossness, farts, belching and scratching).This means he should be available for football, rugby and wrestling and is totally banned from knowing anyone who plays tennis.

5. Must be amazing in the sack. (Am I? How would I know? I've never slept with myself. Uliza watu wengine) But the caveat here is that he should be good but not TOO good otherwise he takes lessons and extra tuition which might not be good for the relationship.

So it's official I'm doomed to a life of singlehood because apparently women have no idea what they want. Actually they do. The only problem is that it's just not me. *sits in the corner and sucks my thumb* I got my eyes out for cupid. That fat little bastard is going down.

HOW I DIDN'T MEET YOUR MOTHER:RULE III

My early twenties were the very genesis of the technological crazy generation. On my way home from work, I was sitting in the bus next to Tony. We’d had a great day but the effects of trying to absorb the words of a shrubbing senile octogenarian had won us down. We kept smiling about he kept saying ‘Colorando’which is supposedly somewhere on the continental US. Check your maps.


Anyway in keeping with the tech craze, Tony had come up with a very fascinating version of IM which he dubbed Intense Messaging. It was really simple. He would scan the area for active Bluetooth devices and pick the ones with feminine sounding names. (Bosslady, honeypot, feline, magzphone). Then he’d send a provocative message which would force a reply. The game was actually very successful and I’d seen him bag very interesting catches in the past.


The element of surprise was so great that some women could barely control themselves. Which is not to imply that he never stumbled upon the occasional reply from a guy (leave my girl alone, you perv), a mother (shame on you) or a pastor (Repent!!!!). Anyway, I had seen him do this so often that I figured I would take a turn. It was time for the apprentice to take over.

HOW I DIDN'T MEET UR MOTHER:RULE 1

 Now kids you have to know that all these rules weren’t things we just pulled out of thin air. They took months of scientific research and training. As we sat down that night, the Professor’s sensitivity had intermingled with Tony’s wit and Steph’s reason to come up with this unheard of brand of rules.

I guess you might be wondering what I brought to the table. Well…….to put it simply……..I was the guinea pig. I was the most naive of the group and my experiences were modest at best so they put me to the test. We tested each of the theories we came up with and submitted them to ‘Project Phoenix’. Some rules didn’t make it. For example Tony’s rule about getting under someone to get over someone was deemed inadmissible. Anyway, this is the story of the rules that made it through. This is how ‘Project Phoenix’ came to be. Rule by Rule.

1. If it looks like a duck, quacks like a duck, walks like a duck smells like a duck and tastes like a duck then it probably isn’t. A duck wouldn’t try so hard.

I was sitting in a bus heading home after a long, hard day at school. Hours had simply dragged on and all I wanted to do was get home and relax. My head was against the window as I sat in the bus waiting for it to fill before the trip started. As usual, I sat there trying to figure out who I would be sitting next to for the next half hour. I had always had bad luck with this since I invariably sat next to the large lady who would end up sitting on half my seat or the screaming baby or the weed smoker…….(I think you get my drift).

HOW I DIDN'T MEET YOUR MOTHER: PROLOGUE

Son, your sister brought home her first boyfriend and as your father I feel compelled to give both the talk. Ewwww! Don’t look at me like that! Not that talk. That’s for you to learn in dark alleys and from wasted teenagers at parties as God intended. The talk I’m giving you is way better and a lot less icky. It’s a story about growing up since that’s what you’re doing. I was a late bloomer and married your mum at the ripe old age of 45. Since we want both of you out of the house by the time you’re 19, you better pay attention. And so it starts……

It was 2009 and I had just turned 22. My world had just been turned upside down after my longest relationship came to an end. Two long months. She cheated on me with the plumber. Said something about him being able to fix her pipes in more ways than one. I never did understand what she meant by that. Why are you smiling? You know what it means? Maybe I should give her a call.

Anyway I didn’t really mind the break up. This was for two reasons. One, chics (do you still call them that?), love wounded souls. And two……. well reason number one is good enough. Despite this, I was under intense pressure from your grandmother to settle down. Back in the day life was tough. Most guys had a brood by the time they were 12. (Ok maybe 13). My mum would constantly point to random girls on the street then make suggestive and rather lewd pelvic gestures. Crazy old lady. God rest her soul if she’s not torturing you up there.

HOW I DIDN'T MEET YOUR MOTHER: PROJECT PHOENIX

Kids to put this list into perspective, it is important to give you some background on the individuals who wrote it. The result was way in excess of the sum total of the individuals who wrote it. First Ben aka the Professor was the sensitive one of the group. He was the one who would point out the things that always escape our eyes about someone getting hurt. The Professor was our own Dr. Phil. While he wasn’t very smart, he was nice to a fault. Because of this girls threw themselves at him but his sensitivity was matched by a shy streak that was Archiles’ heel.

Tony was the know-it-all of the group. He was the resident encyclopedia and always had some obscure information to share with us. Mostly it revolved around the fair sex. (e.g Clinophobia is the fear of beds……he had the reverse condition if you know what I mean). He was a self proclaimed skirt-chaser (this was meant to exclude Hillary Clinton and those Scots wearing kilts) and was obnoxious about his 89% success rate compared to 57% for other guys.

Steph though was the voice of reason. After hours of arguments it was usually left to her to cast the deciding vote. She didn’t date much despite the fact that she had loads to offer. We just figured other guys were as scared of her as we were. Tony once joked that she was part of the reason that his stats weren’t at 100%. For some weird reason she started playing with the knife in her hand. The topic was dropped.