One of my friends will from time to time hint that I need to get myself out there.
A beautiful woman like you, you should be out there going on dates.
So she recently texted me
Telling me I need to meet someone we both knew a long time ago.
I told her to be ware, she might end up in a story.
She means well.
Just like my aunt meant well when,
An eligible bachelor asked for my number.
And I got a vomit inducing text saying:
‘Xaxa?’
And before I could respond another one came.
‘Naitwa Denno’
(Some names have been replaced to protect the culprits )
But who introduces themselves by their nicknames.
I waited two days and then another three came.
‘Gathoni, mbona kunyamaza hivo?’
‘Sema.’
‘Nawexa kukucal?’
Ngai Mwathani. Why would you want to call?
He called.
And talked about the weather.
I put on my most masculine voice and said sorry I was heading out could we talk later.
After a month of such nauseating texts he finally said he wanted me as a wife, because he believed I was capable of building up his businesses with him. (Kaari kamūndū kebangīte)
Which is sad really, when you think about it.
If this was 1956 we might have met at a dance and he would have had no trouble explaining his intentions to me.
But throw in a hand phone and language goes out.
But why would you text like a 90’s teenager honestly?
Or maybe I aim too high and should just ignore the lack of language and engage in mind reading.
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