Dating dot com Part III
Leaving Kimani’s* office makes me feel like a hero of sorts. I call my best friend across the country tell her all about it― what I told you in part II of the game.
“Kimani gave you his number?” she gasps after I tell her how the afternoon was, bisecting every second of it, piece by piece.
“Yes he did. Do you think he’ll call?” the way I frame it plus my tone of voice as I talk to her, one might think she’s a prophet. My prophet. In a way, she usually is.
“Of course he will. I’m really excited about this.”
My friend and I start planning on the future and how it’s not that dim after all. Maybe I won’t end up like poor Miss Havisham after all.
But am I out of the woods yet?
In my mind, I picture Kim― as I now call him― calling me later that evening to tell me that he had a grand time; that my visit made his day. I imagine him asking me out on a date soon.
I imagine him dropping in my office unannounced even before the said Friday pay a courtesy call.
I see us being good friends at first. I picture him in my living room or kitchen having coffee after work and us guys cooking dinner together.
I picture us relaxing on my couch as we watch a movie together. I picture us going to work together every morning and leaving at the same time in the evening. I see us doing weekend trips to Isiolo or Nanyuki.
I see us as best friends first; then as a boyfriend/girlfriend in weeks then as a married couple in say two years? Jane Austen wasn’t wrong about a lady’s imagination. It moves that fast.
While still at it, I look at my clock and its 11pm. No call, no text. I turn my data on and there’s no Whatsapp message either. I convince myself that’s today is too early to harbor any expectations. I go to bed.
But deep down I’m still wondering why the hell Kimani wasn’t the least interested in my person. Why he monopolized the conversation like that is beyond me. It is one thing to be overly confident, but totally another to totally exclude someone from the conversation; someone that’s right across you.
I mean seriously this dude doesn’t know who the hell I am and he’s not even pretending to try and know. Ok.
What’s unsaid to me, is usually the meat of the story, the rest is just bones.
Maybe I’m just reading too much into nothing, like I sometimes do!
Now that he has my number, I’m sure he’ll call and all the dust will be cleared. Speaking outside an office setup will make things much more different.
I wake up on Tuesday morning and go to work. I go through my usual day and there’s still no change. Wednesday, Thursday is the same.
But Friday is here! He promised to drop by on Friday. But even Friday is a sad replica of all the previous days. Not even an apology has come in. not through a call, not through a text not through Whatsapp.
I survive the weekend with nothing. I survive the second week with nothing. On the third week, I delete his number and move on.
***
Seriously guys, I was waiting, but maybe I shouldn’t anymore.
I should have listened to that little voice that night at the Christmas party in Nkubu; the voice that was telling me that this guy was talking down on me. The voice that was telling me that he wasn’t listening to me at all.
That voice!
I should have listened to the ‘little voice’ in my heart and head, thin sliced Kimani right there and then and found him wanting!
There!
But it’s never too late, right?
We live in a culture that assumes that the quality of our decisions is depended on the amount of time we spend deliberating. But what if we are wrong? We are often told that haste makes waste. Spend as much time as possible in a situation to improve the quality of your decisions, but just how much of that is true? Don’t we eventually just get what we see on day one? I think spending as much time as possible in either situations or with people to make the best judgment of them is overrated. Seriously, how could I not?
After a conversational monopolist like Kimani? Who was a monopolist from the word go and eventually turned out like he had behaved? This theory of thin slicing has just been strengthened!
I’ve thrown my hands in the air!
I decide not to think about relationships for now or ever.
I spend longer hours in the office; my boss must really be impressed with my new found motivation towards my work. If only he knew, he’d wish that I was heartbroken every day of the year so I could do the best job!
Back at home though, I sometimes cry to sleep at night from different thoughts. I sometimes read to sleep. I sometimes worry to sleep. Sometimes I Facebook to sleep. Such. The only thing I don’t do is to just go to bed and sleep to sleep.
***
Weeks later, a friend of mine calls. She has arranged a blind date for me, and like most of us, I’m as skeptical as 'doubting Thomas'. Meeting new people is not my favorite cup of tea.
“He is perfect for you!” she insists!
After her constant pushing, I throw in the towel.
What’s there to lose?
At the worst, I won’t like him and I’ll walk. At best, our souls could rest? Right?
I don’t know. Either option is worse than not trying, right? So, I give it a shot.
Talking to Herman* on phone is breathtaking! Yes his name is Herman. He sends me a couple of photos on Whatsapp; photos that only strengthen my fascination with the whole idea of meeting him, though all the while I never showed him my face.
No pictures from me! I wanted to surprise him!
I remember calling our cupid and saying. “You were right lady! He’s a fascinating person!”
“I told you so!” she remarked with glee; satisfaction registered all over her voice.
A few weeks later, we rendezvous with Herman in Nairobi. A warm sunny day it was in the city it is. I'm dressed the part. A well-fitting sleeveless silk top and a round cotton African print skirt and black heels that match my clutch bag, well braided hair in a ponytail that loosely hanging on my upper back. I'm looking gorgeous and feeling gorgeous too. With the weather on my side, as I wait for him at our meeting point, I have no reason to think that anything can go wrong.
I'm also looking forward to having an exciting experience with this ‘really fascinating dude.’
Meeting him at that particular time was a blessing in disguise, as I would later discover. It was a wonderful opportunity to put a face to the voice and the pictures.
Ultimately the lesson I took home was this: don’t buy into people’s hype or what people say about others or themselves, people that sound fascinating across the phone usually turn out to be anything but.
I mean not unless you’re skypeing, which still can’t give you the complete person, don’t believe it. No, I mean it! Dont!
Technology distorts so many things, faces being the primary casualty. Look, most of Herman’s pictures were different from the person I saw on that day; to my utter dismay!
Good grief!
I’ve never felt that stupid before.
I’ll never trust a picture again!
With Kimani, at least I’d thin sliced him for his domineering and selfish attitude from the word go, which was a complete turn off; and I the end after his thick slice was was presented in my face, I confirmed my initial hunch of him. You get it? But Herman? Jesus Christ of Nazareth! Another conversation altogether!
Now this is not because I wanted to hook up with Brad Pitt― or if it would have turned out well― be waking up next to Pitt every morning, but c’mon guys, you don’t want to plan for a date with one individual and end up meeting his fraternal twin brother with the really ugly teeth.
Anyway, looks aside, Herman was/is just not my type of guy.
Pay attention guys, the worst is yet to come!
His dress code was a complete disaster; like a recipe completely gone wrong!
So many things were wrong from the voice deception to the looks to the dress code to the facade of bravado never mind that he had nothing to show! My goodness! Why didn’t I just stay at home and read a novel instead? I wondered as I looked for the most polite way to say goodbye and vanish from his presence as the minutes progressed!
The guy did not even dress up for himself, let alone dress up for me.
I mean, who puts on a campaign banana yes round neck t-shirt when he goes out on a date? Seriously, who does that in this day and age?
Ok, maybe a college boy or a high school kid. Fine I’ll excuse a college boy― whom I wouldn’t have anything to do with in at my age― but a full grown man?
Seriously?? Guys let’s get serious here.
Could he have confused the date with a political rally?
As if the t-shirt in itself is not a disgrace and embarrassing enough, the t-shirt has been laundered in either coffee or tea something close. No, that’s not the worst yet- actually, it could have sworn that T had served as his sleeping regalia the night before. It appeared to me that he uses that T as the top of his pajamas every damn night. It has been worn for bed every single day since 2005 in the banana― orange referendum campaign.
If it were another brand, then maybe late 90s would do.
I saw it.
It was a campaign T.
It was used and old.
No wait, it actually seemed like it had just been swallowed and now exited a cow’s mouth, probably confused as cud before the cow finally decided to spit it out of frustration!
No please― who does that? Who shows up on a date with a white turned yellowish brown t-shirt with bananas VOTE YES all over it, with faded puke-like stains on it, withered and all? You can’t even tell its original color!
I mean can one leave their house to go meet a stranger that is supposed to find you attractive enough fall for you like that?
At all?
Maybe he is color blind.
Fine you’re color blind, but before you leave the house to go out on an important date, you ask your friends even through Whatsapp whether or not you look the part.
Always!
Ok?
Dressing up isn’t just for women, it goes both ways.
Then to make matters worse you look nothing like your photos? I’d understand it if some Bensouda- looking chic sends a dude some Rihanna photos, she’s just being a girl. Girls do that all the time!
But you, a full grown man, sending something looking like Brad Pitt, only to show up on the material day wearing the face of Morgan Tsangirai? Like a plastic surgery gone wrong? C’mon guys!
That’s criminal!
It’s seriously wrong for the survival of the human race.
I mean someone can get a heart attack― I know I almost did― and die and the state must charge you with murder. Or homicide or townicide! (Cause you killed in town)
You don’t pull a prank like that on a lady!
Ok, it’s one thing to be a Tsangirai lookalike, but don’t deceive someone with photos of you where you look like Brad Pitt. It is frightening!
In fact it should be embedded in our criminal laws to for one who shows up like that after sending deceiving photos to be sentenced to life imprisonment.
He confessed to have been out drinking the night before, which would explain his face in part and one wouldn’t be far off to think that he’d been spat from a cow. I mean it!
What even warrants death by hanging should be showing up like that when one’s a total broke ass!
No broke ass should ask a lady on a date and look like that. Dude, I have news for you!
Put some effort in your dress code and someone might just turn a blind eye on your broke ass. Yes I love money, yes all women collectively love money and most certainly men with money, but a little effort in other areas might just give you an upper edge.
What truly pissed me off was that even despite all that, the guy kept ranting on and on about how wealthy his father is back in the village. I rolled my eyes like Dude, it’s you I’m interested in, not your father; he already has your mom in case you’ve forgotten. Package yourself, not your family.
Who are you as a person? That’s all I’m interested in.
Dress appropriately for the date or don’t show up at all.
What’s worse, he starts bragging about this cheap Toyota corolla car of his, the amount of fuel he spends on it blah blah blah ― never mind that its nowhere to be seen.
I roll my eyes again. I rolled my eyes practically for the one plus hour or so I spend with him, which felt like an eternity! Goodness!
What’s wrong with Kenyan dudes thinking that women really care about their cheap cars? No wonder Njoki Chege has serious domez with these guys. Subaru, corolla all the same to me. Bragging about your road trips in your cheap Toyota corolla!
I mean really??
Watu wa Mercedes na range rovers watasemaje?
That was my date on that Sunday; and I’m expected to be ok with it or risk being branded a gold digger or unrealistic or over-choosy! Ok.
So, I let go of this dude who was arranged―just like Daniel― but it has ended before any of us got seriously hurt― thank God for that! (What is it with me and this never ending cycle of being hooked up on blind dates with my friends?)
Anyway, once I tell him that I can’t date him, he takes it gracefully and I appreciate that. This happened on the Monday after the Sunday blind date. The last thing you need is a guy I’ve described above not being able to ‘accept and move on’.
It’s bad enough to put up with the misery of not liking a character like that; you don’t need the frustration of the person making it difficult for you to leave.
What an experience!
Catherine Amayi is a scientist, and an author of both fiction and nonfiction.
Twitter: @catherine_amayi
Facebook: Catherine M. Amayi
Email: ccamayi@yahoo.com
The above piece is a work of nonfiction. Names of individuals; as indicated with an asterisk, localities and events have been changed to protect the privacy of certain individuals.