“Hello Halima, Lets meet up after work at our local coffee joint. I have something. Let’s say 5:30 p.m? Bill on me. Don’t you be late!” she agrees then I hang up and return to my desk. Pretending to be so at work as I wait very impatiently for the clock to strike 5:00 p.m. Meanwhile, my do me this do me that boss Maria, can’t seem to find a proper reason as to why I just can’t have my ass pinned down on my chair swinging from side to side. I mean for all I know I could be working out my monthly expenditure at the back of my mind. But of course to her I am idling so every opportunity to call my name is now becoming a hit song around the office.
LATER THAT EVENING.
“So you just couldn’t make it on time eh? I say after patiently waiting for close to an hour. Halima is walking sluggishly towards me.
“Don’t be all up on me…you know I’m just but an employee. I still haven’t employed people to leave around the office as I come for these coffee dates we have made a lifestyle. In fact I am thinking of opening my own coffee store. But that’s still but a dream.” she says. Of course she always has some unfulfilled dream to explain every time she runs late. And when her pockets are likely to get involved. But I am confident. I’m settling today’s bill.
“Okay! Quit yapping and have a seat then order yourself something. The waiter is approaching.” I say as I sip my last drop of coffee, contemplating whether I should order another mug or just look at Halima as she has hers and I give her a piece of my mind. My valentine’s experience was too much to keep to myself. I order for another mug.
The coffee shop is not as packed as usual so we get served almost immediately.
“I am praying that today you don’t have those minor Marilyn Monroe acts you’ve been putting up lately. But then again I won’t be surprised. I’ve learned not to judge. Myself I have a pretty messed up lifestyle. Karma seems to be serving me for always laughing at your stories out loud.” she says smiling very sarcastically.
You’ve got to understand that with Halima, no situation is ever too complicated or fucked up. She is a soulful and optimistic lover. Always falling in and out of every relationship torn into pieces. Nevertheless, she still remains very open-minded and optimistic. However, when things come crumbling down in her world be rest assured it is because of a fuck boy or broke baller. Both of whom she claims to satisfy her in bed. I’ve really tried understanding the type of guys she attracts but then again, Who am I to judge.
“Somebody seems to be having a rough week. Tell me something Halima. I’ve noticed that am the one whose been pouring the heart out during these meet ups. What’s happening in your life? Tell me the good, the bad and the nasty. Kwanza leo ntaenda tu nyumbani na Little cabs. Matatu sipandi.” I say neglecting what I wanted to share because clearly there is something disturbing her. And I need my share of laughter too. I mean, she is a humourous story-teller. Always out to crack my ribs. That is majorly why we are friends.
“Sasa dada round hii nimekutana na hao. This group of human beings called ‘fuck boys’. In fact my story is the perfect illustration of the ‘Nairobi fuck boy starter pack’ that went viral last month. You must remember it. The subaru, samsung galaxy topped with a ‘bottie’ of Jameson type of guys. Yaani…” taking a deep breath, she pauses before resting her big head on her hand.
“Eh! Habari ndio hiyo. If he is not a fuck boy, he is a swag boy. If not a swag boy then he is a broke baller. And if he is good in all other sectors, he is bad in bed. But this story of yours seems interesting. Let me not take over. Vent your heart out darling…” I say sipping my mocha after which I move to the edge of my chair. This is one heck of a story.
“Where do I start? Okay! So there is this guy I met earlier this week. He looked very shy and soft-spoken. Avoiding every opportunity for our eyes to meet but struggling to catch a glimpse. He also had an effortless smile. You see those ‘I’m very shy and I don’t know how to act’ smiles? I bet you understand…” she narrates and I can’t help but notice how much her eyes are glowing.
Still sounding as if narrating a fairytale. She continues, “So now he picks me from my place the next evening. This is after our previous meeting at that local liquor store around the hood where he managed to get my number. He had made great efforts to get my attention. All macho and attractive. One aspect in a man I have accepted will lead me to misery. I know you’re wondering how I ended up at the store. I had gone to get an ‘Atlas’ six-pack to push me through the week. You know how work gets hectic and they come in handy. Sometimes I honestly think that I am an alcoholic.”
“But you’re an alcoholic bitch! Stop jogging your brain on what’s known?” I interrupt, bursting out in laughter as she gives me a blank stare.
“Shut up you crackhead! I can tell you’re way much better than I am.” she says sounding very sarcastic. Of course I’m not any better but we should both know that Halima will never accept her addiction to alcohol. And fuck boys. At least that I have come to accept.
“You see,” pausing to sip her coffee then getting back to me, ” The way he concentrated while behind the wheel was as if he was playing a role in one of those Fast and Furious movies. His biceps protruding so effortlessly with a bad boy vibe hidden within. He was a character of his own. Forgive me! I’m getting into deeper details before stating the basics. His name is Jake. Well, at least that’s what he told me. And just like his name, loved to bake. And I don’t mean cakes and muffins. No! He baked plants. More of buds to be accurate. I remember asking him during one of our many conversations as he drove to unknown destinations, with a joint on his left hand and his right on the wheels, if he smoked all the time but he replied saying he smoked only good buds all the time. He was specific. That to me was a plus. Adding to his macho self. And it made me develop a sense of liking towards him.” At this point I can’t help but feel sorry for my friend but I continue to listen, as she talks as if still living in the moment.
You see, our friendship is built upon the art of moral support so as much as I feel like laughing my ass out. I compose myself. I mean Halima had fallen for a ‘fuck boy’. This was the joke of the year and was now getting funny because she seemed to find true love every other month. Only that right now it had been a while since her last dramatic break-up. Maybe she wasn’t in love. Just thirsty for sexual healing and confusing it for love. As she always did.
“Maybe I was temporarily in love because I never felt so alive. I was sitting at the passenger seat. Him trying to concentrate on the highway as I gently rubbed his thighs up to his torso with my right hand. Passing the joint between each other. From his left hand to mine. We were like partners in crime. Did I mention his wild imagination and his extraordinary personality? I know you say I’m too soulful for life but admit we looked like an extract from a movie. Those scenes where drug barons go on escapades with their mistresses on fast cars. Try picturing it in your mind. He took my breath away. My ultimate bad boy and I could swear at that particular moment that I wanted to bear kids for him.”
Laughing uncontrollably, I interrupt her, “Bear what? A ‘fuck kid? Come back to reality my dreamer friend. This is Nairobi, the land of unlimited fuckery and instagram couple goals. I can bet he dropped you later and took off even before you got to the gate. You my friend, am sorry to say but was just another whore for the night!”
“Thank you for fast forwarding my story but now that is what hurts me that most. After all the adrenaline rush and courtesy acts with great sex as icing on top of a cake, he takes off just like that! How dare he? Going round giving ladies good sex then dropping you off in his subaru only to never reply to texts? Yaani alini-chips funga from my gate, dropped me when he was done and took off? Just like that! Do I call it hit while running? I wish he could at least be courteous enough to make an agreement considering he knew too well how much I enjoyed the climax of the random hook up! But now look at my life, days after the night I would love to go back to. Venting to my best friend about a fuck boy I gladly hooked up with, at our local coffee joint. I think we should really consider opening the coffee-house I was talking about. At least then, we’d be getting some income even if we’ll just be talking about fuck boys because clearly that’s my path. One I have gladly accepted. Girls can be fuck girls too, right?” she asks, very sure about her next move in relationships as she takes her last sip of coffee. I know for sure what is going through her mind. I then burst out laughing.
“Halima the ‘fuck girl’. You amaze me woman! Anyway, may we call it a night so that we have more reasons to meet up for coffee. Next time on your bill.” I say mockingly as I settle the bill and we get ready to leave, both requesting for our little cabs.