Love and Orgasms

“At times I regret that I ever met you, Wish I were to pass and let another intercept you. The liquor’s encouraging me to text you, But see the pride is why I stall like a restroom. Experience what I did? I wonder who’s the next to detention. Thicker than this bitch I’m laying next to, Not like that’s something no one knew, Responding to come over texts when I ain’t even over you, just know I’d never put another woman over you, in fact I think I put a pride aside convo is overdue. Cause  all we ever do is fucking trip. Make love then argue, yeah fuck and trip. All this unnecessary stress I need a fucking trip, But know that making you happy still on my bucket list. Visions of our past but unsure what the future holds, i’m sure by just showing up you assume I fuck future hoes…” Euroz _us vs. them

I heard the cry from where I was seated. The flaccid cry of a newborn. This is my son with Shanice. I was not as zealous as expected. I switched off my iPod and walked towards the cry. 

I checked my watch. It was  11.30 am and I knew Robin was already on her way to her wedding. Her wedding to that man. Kyle.
What had I done?
I’m completely unmoved by the fact that this girl has just borne me a son. An heir. 

Okay, I’ll go carry the kid in a few minutes. Shouldn’t I? Well, it’s only fair that I show my enthusiasm and excitement, no matter how pretentious. I’m not mean. I’m a good man. I just fell off the wagon. It happens.
I know where my heart is.
I ran out to the car and ignited its engine. The revving, reminded me of the first car I bought her. The excitement in her eyes. Why is everything I do so nostalgic…
If she loved me she would have stayed. She would have understood. She would have weaned me off the drugs and reckless promiscuity. She would have understood that I’m an extremely social being, I mean, even when I’m canoodling other women and kissing them, it’s nothing sexual. It’s her I always loved!
Kwani kazi ya mwanamke ni gani? Si ni kubaki and be the family’s pillar!
Women are not supposed to give up on their men! 

I told her to wait until I sorted myself out for her and our child.  It’s her fault that I cheated. She gave up on me, on us. She was tolerating Kyle all along.

 I mean, how was I supposed to compete with a man of such poise and financial structure. She left me for the money. Typical of these women!

I should go back in and hold my son a little longer.
Goddamnit Robin see what you made me do!
Do I go be with Shanice? 
But I don’t love her. It was just sex. She was giving me the attention Robin failed to provide. 
Do I call Stephanie? Naah. She dumped me. It’s okay, she had started being a nag anyway. Besides, she has a boyfriend now… I was getting enough of that from Robin, a repeat would be a redundant catastrophe. Well, maybe I should call her up for an easy lay, get my mind off things…

“Who is she? Where are you going? Why don’t you give me attention? Are your friends more important than I? Why do you constantly have women on your Snapchat? Are your Instagram posts subliminal messages to me?”
😑😑😑😒😒😒😒😒😒😒

 Do I go to the church to halt this absurd commitment about to be laid down by my lover?
I took my phone out and began reading her final texts… Those long texts she sends when angry. Accompanied by voice notes that are nothing short of ten years long. 

  Robin: Hey. Not to seem intrusive, but just know me giving you space doesn’t mean I stopped loving you or I left for someone else or I don’t care. It’s just so that you can sort your issues without me feeling ignored by the man I love, so I’m always here for you ata ka I’m a bother. Niko tu kando, I haven’t left. Just work on your priorities. When you’re ready, we’ll give us another shot and make shit work bila drama na pain. Goodnight 😘

Robin: Everything you said to me in that car hit me tenfold. You killed me. You killed my will to fight for us. You refused to help me stay. You chose them over me. The drugs, the women, friends. You left your baby and I begging for your attention every single day. I cannot cry anymore, I shall have the divorce papers delivered to you and in all niceness, I ask as a favour that you sign them.
I wish you happiness with your new girl and child that is on the way only because your happiness is all that ever mattered to me. Let me go. 

How was I supposed to reply to this? So I ignored it. Just like I had been ignoring all her other texts and calls. She was a mistress of sarcasm this one. Oh how I miss that…

She wanted to leave so I told her to leave. I told her to delete my number if she saw fit. I don’t know how to beg. I’m not the kind of man that fights over a woman. Plus akili yangu ilikua imechoka kushindia the same issue daily. Why don’t women understand? Nagging kila siku! 
 This was right before I received the divorce papers. She lied. She left. She should have been patient and held on longer. Her decision was lopsided. She didn’t consider  my feelings and now she’s marrying that bastard.

I’m going to drive to the church. I want to look her straight in the eyes as she says ‘I do’ to another man. A man that is not me. I want to see if she’ll flinch with the slightest regret. 

I parked at the church’s lot and walked out of my car. Keys and phone in hand. 

Anxiety clouded me. The closer I got to the entrance, the heavier my heart grew. The harder the steps became. 😢😢
I’m not ready to see my Robin with another man, I thought. It’s not too late to walk away. 
I turned to leave when I saw Angela there, right behind me. Looking at me. She must have spotted me roaming the premises.
Angela is Robin’s best friend. I’m assuming her best maid today as well. She never liked me. Not as a person, but for her friend, romantically. Well, no one did, and that got to her. I knew all along that she had been against our relationship and marriage altogether. Her condescending presence could be felt and so I started to walk past her. She stopped me and moved in as if to hug me.
Maybe this is what I need. A hug. 
“Leave this place. You have hurt her enough. Just leave…’ she whispered in my ear.
Although I was taken aback, Angela was right. What was I doing here?
I detached from her embrace and turned again, heading straight for the entrance amidst her warning not to… and then I saw her. My Robin. Right at the altar in a white gown. Beautiful as ever. Beaming with the radiance I imagined she would. She looked sombre. The mood was definitely melancholic.
Almost subsequently, everything flashed right before my eyes. The first time I saw her. The night I gave her a promise neck piece. Our first kiss. Our first sex in the car. Our wedding. The day she gave birth to my Natalie. Everything…

Right beside her was my estranged friend Kyle. Feeling macho. He had won the race. I guess this was Karma stretching it’s unforgiving claws out to me. No one is ever yours, it’s just your turn.
                                 ~xx~

We ran to my car, I was holding her hand as she struggled with her train. I immediately drove off, we had no destination in mind. This was the kind of people we were. Spontaneous. Daring. We hardly cared about external opinions. 

This was going to cost us, but it was worth the risk. I was taking back what was mine and this time, I was going to keep her forever.

We sat in silence, I’m sure she was as confused as I was, gazing outside her window with dismay tatooed all over her face. Surprisingly,no one was following us. 

I parked the car along the deserted Naivasha highway. No sooner had I opened my mouth to speak than she climbed on top of me. She held my face as if to search for answers. I looked at her dead in the eyes.

You know what I appreciated about this union? The ability to constantly have our blood boiling for each other. I was baying for her body like a predator for a prey. She kissed me. I had been longing for these lips. This darned gown was getting in my way so I tore it together with her stockings.

The making out got so intense and I was ready for her. She was running her fingers through my hair with her long nails, biting my neck, rubbing her crotch against mine. I could see that she was succumbing in her eyes every time she opened them to look at me. 

I lifted her to sit on this magic wand. I warmed up inside. She was so wet. A low hallelujah almost escaped my mouth. I motioned her to ride and she began . All this while, i’m caressing her arms and thighs, spanking her as she increases the tempo. I tell her to slow down.

I tell her to scream if she wants to because no one can hear her. We’re in the middle of nowhere. I can tell she’s trying not to be too noisy. I love her sexual noises, I want more.

I tell her how amazing her pussy is. It’s getting steamy in the car but i don’t want her to stop, when all of a sudden she grips my arms. I know she’s about to cum so I tell her to do it all over the seat. This is her car as well. 

Then she does it. So beautiful. Her body is still shaking, I whisper in her ear that I felt it all. She gets off me and tells me that it’s me she wants to be with. I ask her about Kyle but she assures me she doesn’t love him.

A knock on the window interrupts us. She asks me not to open the door until she’s got her panties on so I wait. I help hook her bra back on then I roll down the window.

                                ~xx~

Only, there’s no window. There’s no car. There’s no naked Robin. It’s just me standing along the aisle.

Gasps escaped alternate individuals and filled the church when they saw me. She turned. I could see her face. Her smile faded. She stared dumbfoundedly. 
I got what I wanted. To see her face. I was satisfied. A sharp pain cascaded down my heart. You have no idea, it was like , have you lost someone before? 
When my daughter Natalie shouted my name’daddy’, it dawned on me that I was letting go of my happiness. This girl! She looked just like me. Beautiful hair like her father’s. Oh my. She looked so magnificent in her little flower girl frock. My little girl. 
No matter how big or bad you are, there’s always that one girl that humbles you. 

It’s okay. I’m going back to the hospital now. I have no option but to let them go. I’ll be okay. It’s not the first time someone left me. It was not going to be the last either. I’ll just pick a new hoe up from the club as is. These girls are easy.
“Daddy! Daddy!” Natalie started to cry.
It was not my intention to disrupt this occasion. 
“Daddy!”
I started to tear up as I turned to walk out. I didn’t think she had the guts to leave me for good, but now, I have confirmed it. I have single-handedly managed to push away the one girl that loved me for who I was. The one girl that continuously looked past my transgressions, forgave my short-comings and defended me amidst all the disrespect and embarrassment I caused her . 

I’m not sad though. I don’t care. Okay, I do, but I’m a thug. I’ll get over it. A blunt or ten with the boys and a night out getting bitches should get me started.

Goodbye Robin. Goodbye my sweet Natalie.

Model: Brian Karuiru
(Continued from ‘How I met my husband’)

Now that I’ve got your attention, don’t pass up the pink ribbon. It’s Cancer Awareness Month!! 😂😂
I want to share a story I haven’t told many people, but I feel like the bobbiebom fans have become family. You guys even check up on me on the regular and that’s so beautiful 😍

I however, do not expect any pity or further questions from this post concerning my health. I’m healthy. I’m okay. I just want to pass the message across that you need to go get checked for Cancer and, be nice to people since you might not have the slightest idea of what they are going through. Today you’ll laugh at a skinny person cuz they look funny, maybe they’re sick. Or throw jabs at fat people because they breathe funny, maybe they’ve been struggling all their life to look ‘normal’. 

When I opened my eyes, the first person I saw was my mother. She smiled and I remembered where I was. My eyes were heavy, I couldn’t move my body and I was overwhelmed with general weakness.

“Call dad. I need to speak to him…”, I told her in a voice that trailed off.

I assured my father that I had come out of the operating room okay and that phonecall relaxed me a bit. 

I was pushed to the recovery room and transferred onto the bed by the nurses. This was going to be a long night, I thought. I had bandages all round my chest so I couldn’t tell the magnitude of the damage. I was numb. No pain, no emotion, nothing. 

                                     ~xx~

Two days before, I was lying on a bean bag while watching TV on the floor when I almost subconsciously started feeling my breasts and detected two lumps on my left side. I had huge boobs so it was a bit difficult to be certain. My mother is a medic, so immediately she got home, I asked her to check me out. I was scared as hell.

Sasa najua kuna mtu mahali amejiuliza mbona nilikua najishika matiti. Sitawajibu lakini ka jokes, the early detection might have just saved my life…

At this point we were both panicking, so she asked a friend who was a nurse and lived right next door to come and confirm as well. It was then that I found out I had breast lumps and for some reason, this to me equated itself to cancer and ultimately a painful death. I couldn’t sleep that night.

My mother packed a night bag for me and after a few phone calls, we were on our way to The Mater hospital. I got booked for surgery and was immediately admitted. I was asked not to eat a whole 24hours before the surgery as it would interfere with the anaesthesia. That was hard because right at the entrance there’s a beautiful vending machine that kept calling me 😂… Lakini you can’t win with me when it comes to food. Bado nilikula tu 😂
I remember being extremely  scared walking towards the theatre. My mother was friends with the doctors so she took me to meet the team that would work on me. There was the option of checking whether the lumps were malignant or benign while they were still inside me to ascertain if the surgery was necessary but my mother wanted them out.

The doctors were having lunch in some room, and one of them offered to walk me around the theatre. Just then, a man was rushed in in a stretcher, half his face missing with a huge blade sticking out. I just felt like this place was full of death, you know? Like, in a few hours, I’d be the one on a stretcher.

Ka ushaifanyiwa surgery maybe unajua io feeling, ukiingia uko ndani it’s like you can smell death. Ah, sijui kuexplain…

 I kept asking if this meant that I would lose my breasts. Would I have to cut my hair? I had heard that chemotherapy was painful… Was I going to be strong enough to go through this?
It was time to prep for the surgery. I was asked to remove all my clothes and was given the operation attire with a head cap, gown and everything. I lay on the stretcher and as I was being wheeled into the Operating room, all I could think about was my funeral. I don’t know why. It’s like you start asking yourself all these crazy questions. Who would attend? Who would cry the most?

Enyewe it was straight up like a scene from ER or Grey’s Anatomy. Nilikua tu naona lights nafeel ka ki-moviestar.

I remember that April 2011 like it was yesterday because it changed my life. I kept asking God why he would let such a thing happen to me. I was so young and cancer seemed so far-fetched. Wasn’t it an ‘old person’ disease?

The doctors were really nice, cracking jokes and trying to be friendly. An oxygen mask was placed on my face and I was asked to count to ten, I don’t remember reaching four…

                                   ~xx~

I woke up at about 8am the next morning when the doctor was doing rounds. He opened my bandages and I’ve never felt so much pain in my life. My nipple was open and my whole side had a huge scar with threads sticking out. The doctor proceeded to dig into my nipple to pull out a drainage tube that I didn’t even know was in there. Ilikua ka zile matiti hukua on ‘Botched’ on E!

I cringe every time I remember because I get the exact feeling. Ni ka mse aingize kidole in your insides aanze kuvuruta vitu.

I was put on more medication and after a shower and breakfast, I went back to my bed.

It felt lonely. No one came to see me because I told my mother not to tell anyone. I dread pitty. 
On the day I was being discharged, I was so happy to see my mother and brother. I couldn’t walk though, I don’t know if it affected my balance, but the pain was surreal.

I was wheeled to the car after my mother was given instructions on how to handle me post-surgery.

I just wanted to know if the tests on the lumps showed if I had cancer or not. No one was telling me anything. They said the test would take two weeks.
About two weeks later was when I cut off all my hair and went back to school. Say like a fresh start.

Those who found out started spreading rumours that I was dying and that I was extremely sickly. They would use the fact that I’d cut my hair off as ‘evidence’. On Facebook, others would message me to say mean things and although it didn’t get to me, maybe it’s got to someone else who is really being segregated for the sole purpose of being different or having an illness the cannot suppress.

I didn’t understand how mean someone could be. I don’t recall ever treating people badly but anyway, I got over it.
I keep telling you guys that I’ve got such a strong support system. I’ve got legit friends and family that sticks by me regardless… Maybe someone else doesn’t have that.

I recovered and my scars are something I’m actually very proud of right now.
Well, I know no disease is pleasant, especially if it’s rendered a death sentence. It takes so much out of you. You cry. The pain is so much and the psychological torture is even worse.

                              ~xx~
Today, I’m sharing my story because I want you to help. Let’s help cancer patients where we can and not just on cancer awareness month, let’s help them whenever!

I’ve been to Kenyatta hospital, Nairobi,  and I’ve seen how much pain they are in. The treatment process is nothing to joke about. 

Want to know an easy way to assist them? 

DONATE TO CANCER AWARENESS FOUNDATIONS.

An example is the Kanini 4 Africa Foundation by Janet Kanini Ikua whereby funds go towards cancer patients’ medication  (In Kenya). You can as easily Google foundations near you and donate towards them. Today it’s me, tomorrow it might be you. I’ve seen how Cancer drains resources, so imagine the unfortunate who sleep on the streets but require medical attention…

I can say I relate because I’ve got an aunt currently undergoing chemotherapy for ovarian cancer. I see her tears. I see how hard it is and it kills me sometimes knowing I cant do much, the best I can offer is emotional support by keeping her happy. She loves smiling, but beyond it all, I know there’s so much pain.

Offer the victims support, do not damn them to condemnation or talk about death.

If you are going through cancer, try and stay positive, just know it gets better and you are loved. You’re going to make it out!

I was watching this last night, thought I should share…

https://youtu.be/u9s_P02XtcY

Spread the word people !!! 

Go get checked as often as you can. Spread love and awareness.

Cancer isn’t the end. It gets better, I promise. 😇😊😊

Before you read on, understand that my posts contain a lot of sarcasm and profanity, that’s if you’re new here and don’t know that. Kama wewe ni mzee na utajam or hate bad manners kindly stop reading at this point. 

Don’t bother sending my dad screenshots 😕😑😑😑😒😒. He’s a fan 😇 and just recently subscribed 🙌!
In 2016 you need disclaimers so that people don’t get butt hurt over jokes and brutal honesty.

Otherwise, on a lighter note, let’s commence on today’s topic of interest.

Dickmatization. 

As usual, I’ll speak from my point of view of things. Don’t castigate me for opinions I solely claim, but as usual, feel free to drop your suggestions, criticism and opinions, I appreciate those regardless ❤.

Did you know that women love sex just as much (or more) as men? You probably forget that, so I’ll remind you.

These girls are scared to speak out cuz when you love dick you’re dubbed a whore. We can’t battle the double standards battalion so we just shut up. Well then I’m the mother of whores if being upfront about sex is ‘whorish’. (I really hope my mum stopped reading my shit) 😭😭😭. 

Hi mum 😇👋

I honestly don’t care that much about what anyone thinks of me on a sexual basis and even if I do, I’ll still say what I want and how I want it. Boring sex is a waste of time. I can’t waste my perfect ‘boob years ‘ on shitty coitus 😂😂😂. No one should.

I’ll talk about slut shaming on another day. Leo, I want to educate some people on what it means by someone being dickmatized. Ndio muwache kudhani we’re in love with you when it’s your dick we’re talking to 😂.

When I call you, if we’re just fucking, patia dick simu. Wacha kiherehere.

 It just so happens we might fall for your dick and not you as a person. Nothing makes me angrier than a nigga thinking that highly of himself over me. Come back down to earth brother. Tega sikio…

I love how people already feel like they have a perception of what I’m like in bed from reading my blogs. Shows how hell-bent the society is on pre-empting situations at face value. Well that’s okay 😉. Bora mtu niko naye asije akasema I did splits in the air for Mark* and so he wants that too…

Anyway.
Girrrrrllssss, come here. Have you ever had dick sooooo good, you cried?🍆💗💋👅👅❤❤🔥🔥💦💦💦

 Yeah. Like you’re at work getting flashbacks and shit about slurping on those balls. Yani, you remember bouncing on that stick and your vajayjay gets moist. 

Now I already need a change of draws 💦💦 😭😭

Bear with my digression, it tends to get the better part of me a lot, subconsciously . Kama vile juzi I started telling my mum story ya vile she should come to vineyard one time cuz it’s lit. I ended up telling her about how I was frustrated ju plug aliniuzia oregano ju ni ka I was on kales, that Kush was shit. No high feeling whatsoever. Najua ningelazwa station ju my mthas is the kind of woman to snitch, but oh well…
In my opinion, dickmatization is when a girl is fond of a particular dick, love is not needed (I can’t stress on this enough). I can want you sexually without caring about how your day was, okay? Welcome to 2016.

Yah. Us girls have mastered this art. I was about to use the word addicted but that’s relative and, really, there’s always a better dick than the one you’re currently sitting on. Yup. Always. 

So as a jamaa, you give this mama A1 msolombo (niko group flani WhatsApp, that’s where I’m learning all this new sheng’, -> shout out to Connect Campus btw).

Let me start again. You meet this mami, you shag. Well, not just the basic ‘my nut matters ‘ kind of shag. You eat her out from hair follicles to the dead skin on her heels. Yaani, unamkula kijeshi. You do all those hair-pulling, back-scratching, lip-biting things. You basically make love to her soul. You expect io story inaisha hapo?

For more jokes, send an SMS, ‘jokes about dick’ to ‘5764’

Well. Guess again. 

Let me give you the tell tale signs of a dickmatised girl. As best as I know. I can’t speak for lightskins, ao wako ligi yao. Ata wakidedia mse I think speaking out is a NO in their ‘how to like totally maintain litty lightskin vibes bruh’ manual. I kid 😂

1. She’ll hit you up after sex. Mse unajua skuizi form ni kutokua na feelings so after mechi mnanyamaziana ju hamdai feelings. Well, just be sure that if she doesn’t hit you up first with shit like ‘I had fun’ bruh, ulilalia kazi.
2. She’ll blow up your phone up with upuzi za love, if not, to ask about next time. At this point, she might or might not have already started seeing you in her future (not necessarily as a boyfriend) so she’ll take the next step, which is to try and secure the bag. SECURE THE BAG ALERT! If you no get no text, you no fuck good.
3. Kusema ukweli nimesahau izo zingine. But pia in the middle of this, nimefeel ni ka I’m betraying girls by telling you guys these things. So instead, I’ll let you know how to tell if your sex game is trash.

… Don’t get mad boys. I know there’s shitty pusss too. But nothing makes me happier than seeing the people around me getting fucked right. I hope for a better world where everyone shall get what they deserve in bed. Or, in my case, and everyone else who is like me, everywhere 😉.

1. You will not be looked for. She’s so bored, she’d rather return to her wanking streak. You’re lucky if you’re not blocked, but be sure her friends already know how pathetic you are 😂😂😂😂. People are savage. Guys do this too after they get what they want. Usijali, ni life. Utakula tu blueticks hadi ubuild fort nazo. You should thank God girls are nice though, cuz even when the sex is shit, she’ll try to boost your ego by moaning like a dying whale.
2. That’s it. Hakuna point ingine. Mtu anakutaka atakupursue. If not labda anahepa feelings, they don’t give a flying shit about you and your friendship or ulishaserve purpose ya making them cum. Your work is done. Clap for yourself. Pia unaeza ongeleshwa but story za sex hazidai. Now you know. This made me sad a bit 😢

NB : kuna watu huwa loud sana btw. Beware of these people who stay announcing their prowess. Kwanza wale wana mini sausage na mitaro ndio huinsist. They can’t get you hooked on their shit. No dickmatisation whatsoever.

Research shows that your incentive to tell people about your prowess when it comes to handling your genitalia is indirectly proportional to your actual prowess. 

You can’t argue with research.

This was done by professor Hafsa Neil Armstrong, aka trap_mermaid on Instagram, in 1993, right after sipping lean.

Ushaikua na mtu na anajisifu mid-sex ati, ‘Ooh baby my dick is amazing, it goes deep…. Blah blah blah’?  😒

Me too. 😂

I can’t use a girl’s example cuz for you guys puss is puss, bora you get your nut.

So ii fala inajisifu, unaanza kushangaa, eh, form ni gani.So full of themselves na labda unafake moans na orgasms ndio ajibambe. 

Chema cha jiuza, kibaya chajitembeza. Sijui io methali poa. Hopefully it goes that way. If you’re good,you don’t need to speak about it 😉.

Remember that empty debes make the loudest noise. Ati sijui ooh. I can rearrange your guts. Nah bruh. Only thing your loud mouth needs to rearrange is those crooked Down-Syndromed teeth that might scissor down my clitoris amidst cunnilingus.

Humble yourself and maybe you’ll get a lass dickmatized.

No offence to people with down syndrome. 
I know sometimes I bruise some egos. I’m unapologetic about that though. God, I hate feeding people’s egos. But if I’ve lowered your self esteem then pole. If it helps,my teeth aren’t perfect either 😂😂😂😭😭😭

I stopped telling guys they’re good ju ya maringo. Wacha aende home na question marks 😂😂. I once complimented some jamaa cuz I felt he was looking good, na that was the last nice thing I will ever say to him 😇. See what we are turning each other into.

When a girl is dickmatised, you’ll know. Her happiness is consistent. She’ll generally feel so good about herself. It’s even better when the D is consistent and frequently available 😍😍😍😍

This dick controls her life and decisions.  Ukimsho akubuyie gari, anaeza ata rob bank. Power to the men. 

If not, utajua pia. Subliminal messages on her Instagram and Snapchat ovyo ovyo ati oooh, niggas ain’t shit. 😂😂. 

Ama kule twirra she starts saying how ako dryspell na saizo umemnyandua a whole week.

Awa ndio huskiza Lemonade daily.🐝🍋

Uyo ndio unajua alidinywa vibaya na akapewa shs. 100, hajui ka ni ya p2 au nduthi.

These guys on Campus Connect were saying ati, dame anadirectiwa hadi kwa keja, after 5mins mnaona akitoka. Ata hakui escorted to the stage . Na hatawai pigiwa simu tena. It’s a wrap.😂😂😂😂. I love my generation 😂😂😂

Uyo sa mnadhani anafeel aje, saizo labda ametravel from Rongai. Ata hawezi kua dickmatised even if those 5 mins zilimjazz. 😂😂

These views are not the gospel truth. Especially with girls as straight forward as me. I’m the type to be like, “Oya, unanige or nah?” Na ukinilenga nasonga. I might want you but my money is more important. I’d rather chase that. I can’t chase pombe, money and then men. Aih. Mambo ya kufanyishana P.E iliisha na reign ya Moi. 

With all said and done, I think I need to remind you people to use condoms throughout your endeavours. Of course there’s exceptions on the basis of trust levels. Don’t trust these hoes. 

It’s not worth it, kumea spirogyra na finger like projections that are green on your ass at the expense of a nut. Shingles are real. 😂
Najua hampendi nikiongea sense, but , HIV ni real na hakuna haja utuache ju ya kitu ilikubamba 3mins. 
Be honest as well. Wacha kufanya mtu aingie box then unamchorea. By box, I keep insisting, i’m not only talking about love, even just sexual arrangements. Don’t waste people’s time! It’s so frustrating 😢. Ii ntawapigia story kwa blog ingine ju mnapenda sex oriented articles af!

How do you get someone dickmatised then you stop talking to them na the arrangement is that y’all are exclusive on a sexual basis😕. You’re the ones who make us crazy. 

Anyway, I think I’ve touched on about 6million issues in this. 
But now you know why Njeri isn’t looking for you after sex.
Gaddamn, now I’m worried 😂😂

Photography by Keter Sammy

Model: Robertta Bobbie

I want to tell you guys the story of a young girl who just found out that she is about two months pregnant by a man she loves. Let’s call her Sharon. She is extremely distraught by the idea of keeping it. She’s wondering if she should tell him, but she’s trying to be cautious, she doesn’t want to be at risk of losing him. What if he flips and denies it? Well, he knows for sure that she’s not lain with another all year, but you know how some guys can get when a baby comes along…

I also want to tell you the story of Karis*. My good friend, who struggles so hard to keep his girl happy, but she’s busy entertaining everyone else but him. He’s quite distraught as well. She simply never has time for him, ALL THE GADDAMN TIME. He cries to me during our Skype calls, and, I feel bad. Maze mapenzi, hadi inafanya mwanaume alie, contrary to the stereotype that men are not emotional beings. (Fuck that btw)

Sharon’s also distraught because of how rocky the relationship has been. Breakups on the weekly, trust issues, pride, lack of or no effort… But the guy says he loves her. She loves him too.

So day in, she tries to prove this but, he’s become so dismissive, feigning this nonchalant vibe of a man without feelings. He says he doesn’t trust her so he cut the effort down to null. He stopped replying messages, he ignores her outrightly, he’s detached. But wants her to stick around and build castles in the air. (Insert Kanye West gif : HOW????)

The obvious thing to do would be to let go for her and move on at this point, right? To just give up on loving this man, like everyone else is advising. But she can’t. She won’t. She’s worked too hard towards keeping him to just let it go down the drain. Can’t let ‘Becky with the bad hair and acne’ just come in. 

Consequently, he is on a constant and obvious quest to say things suggesting he is searching for another queen. One that shall assist him to build a kingdom rather than run it. Flaunting his availability whereas, she’s rooting for them still. Waiting for him to work things out. Maze imagine mse anakusho umpee space ajipange alafu anatafuta dame mwingine 😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂 yawa, pthoooo! Mutaniuwa yaye!😂😂😂

Remember that she is with-child.

Karis on the other hand hasikii la ndewe wala sikio. Attempting to advice him against his lover will get you cut off in a heartbeat. I see the way the girl treats him. Lakini ya wawili, ayajuaye ni wao. She’d rather spend time with her friends kushing up than build on the happiness Karis is offering. She swears she loves him, but constantly comes up with excuses where keeping in touch is involved. Stringing him along, puppeteering his heart. So he’s stuck, waiting, loving… Maybe she doesn’t care, but she says she does so…
Think about it.

But I won’t tell you their stories. I just said I want to.
Instead, I’ll tell you my story…

I was dating this guy on and off for about four years. My first serious relationship because we practically lived together. My goal was to ultimately walk down the aisle with this one. You know when you just know they’re the one? Haha
At the point where we cohabited, by default, wifely duties were imposed upon me. This is as expected in the African culture, you cook and clean like having a vagina comes with a ‘terms and conditions’ manual.

He never even once did anything for me. Nothing. And if he did, then I can’t recall. 

I’m not insinuating that the love was conditional, but neither was it intended to be parasitic. I’m one girl who doesn’t care especially about material things, but I started feeling used when our friends would laugh at how nilikua mboch. Ata smokie pasua na mtura, I’d pay. 😑😑😑

 I can’t say the love faded, but interests shifted and we got busy. Him with broads at the club, me with school. No symbiosis whatsoever.

So I sat down one day and thought about all the years, emotions, toiling only comparable to that of a donkey at his expense, money, everything that I had invested in this relationship!

Of course I wasn’t ready to just walk out. But I had to. Detaching is never easy for me, but once I’m there, bruh, it’s like you never existed.

I tried in vain to salvage what was left of us, constantly attempting to remind him of the good times, how perfect we were for each other, how much our families were one. Trying to get him to act right, promising to wait.

I tried!

I’d cry. I’d call him everyday. Sometimes he ignored my calls, or picked up only to be dismissive. I wondered what I’d done wrong. 

He didn’t even have the guts to break up with me. He just started posting up his new lady on his WhatsApp profile and Instagram. So I filled in the dots, deleted his number,packed all his things up and it was a wrap. Skutaka closure. Io akatumie ka gazeti afungie nyanya. 
My point is, I feel like people get too comfortable after they get what they want whereas that’s where the input of effort is greatly needed. Kuna kamadharau ka kuzoeana kauanza kutokelezea. Mtu anaona akutreat ka shonde ju weh ni fala wa kubaki.

For me, it’s so natural to spend my money on my man, give him undivided attention and even surprise him with things he’d never expect. It doesn’t matter how busy I get, when I care, I put in the effort. I believe in the power of spontaneity, it keeps the love on its toes. I’m not blowing my trumpet, I’m just wondering why I’m in a generation where showing emotion is considered being whipped. 
Like Sharon, I’m far from the type to give up. I’m sure most emotional  people can reasonate with that. 

Watu wanapelekwa dates na vacations, wewe unapelekwa trap house kusanif shash. Are you a farmer? And it’s not an invite, it’s a meer, “Mi Niko na maboyz, ukijiskia kukwom utaniget uko!”

Here you are, unatetea the ‘Future’ wannabes instead of letting a ‘Russel Wilson’ come give you some good lovin’!

I mean, it’s only fun and games until your friends are all seeing people who are serious and goal oriented, yet you’re still holding down the plug who has no intentions of putting a ring on it, or giving you an ounce of his time and attention throughout the relationship. 30 is knocking on your door. 

I’m not hating on anything. You guys should know I do most of the things I constantly condemn. Also, I’m not saying you must get married or go on dates to be happy. I’m just confused about how wasting someone’s time is supposed to be a cool thing??

Dame anakuitisha doh kila saa. Ask yourself, is your relationship a matatu? Is she a makanga?

Girls, a relationship is not a job opportunity. Shtua society. Nunulia mjamaa njumu angalau ajue bibi hujali akipiga look. Do something else other than offering pussy, you can be of more worth. Plus si I told you pussy is everywhere. Kwanza after my last post I’ve got girls on me like shit. 

Don’t just be pussy,😑

What’s so hard with matching  my effort? If I’m bothering, why can’t you? I feel like I’m getting too old to do all the work in a relationship. I’m at a point in my life where everyone around me is in happy relationships because the effort is mutual. Seeing this got me thinking how much nonsense I’m able to tolerate because of ‘love’.
So this guy, it’s been over two years and he started looking for me again. I mean, I shut him down each time, but he apologised. I’m guessing his friends are in serious commitments and he’s slacking. Maybe it occurred to him that these girls he was entertaining will never stick around like I did. (I might be wrong) . Too bad I have someone new to waste my time.

Funny he’s forgotten my tears and effort. The depression I fell into. Funny how they forget…

Karis’ girl will lose him to an amazing woman who puts in as much effort as he does towards the relationship. 

Sharon might abort if the boyfriend doesn’t pay her any mind. Her friends are advising her to walk away and move on. And once she does, that’s another love story shattered. 

As for me, after two years of avoiding relationships, I moved on and laugh at his obvious advances. I hope that after he reads this, he can get the outright message that regardless of how nice some people can be, they have a breaking point as well. Na, SIKUTAKI brathe!
I don’t know much about love and relationships, but I think it’s only fair to work as hard as you did to get them, to keep them. 
My folks just renewed their  vows after 20years, my dad said that it was happening because when you love someone, you don’t give up! In his words, “Unapenda mtu na njia different hadi msiboeke, lakini umuonyeshe hii mapenzi”

I’m learning to walk away when I get the vibes that I’m working alone to keep the relationship going.  Doesn’t matter how long I take to move on, I know I shall and there’s no beautiful feeling as seeing a person that only offered you half baked love and not feel anything. You’re not supposed to assure the people around you that your relationship with anyone is legit, the way they treat you and love you should be evident if they’re serious. (Next boyfriend better know I’m not playing 😑😑)

I’m done with games that concern my heart and time. I hope Karis, Sharon and all of you going through the same shall gather the courage to go for options that auger well with your heart. It’s hard and painful, but you’ll get there.

I hope you find someone that matches your effort in a relationship.
Shit happens, love dies, etc. But how about after reading this, you try to match your lovers effort?

Au mnadai kukua ma FWB till 30? Talking about,

 “You guys don’t know her like I do, she really loves me!” 

,na saizo anatwerkia James, John and Omusakhulu kwa club., She started wearing less and going out more. You don’t even see her no more.

Love yourself.
Model: Mahfoudh Barkey, PC: Roba

I rolled over the bed and went straight for her lips, kissing her with so much passion, as if our lives depended on it.

I know what I want a man to do to me, and so I was going to do it all to her. The burn was insatiable.

I was going to make her fit with orgasmic seizures. I was going to make her dump her man for me. This is without malice. I don’t even know her man on a personal level, but I know she’ll want me to be her ‘man’ after tonight.

Wouldn’t it be sad?!

Your girl dropping your dick for my tongue…

Checkmate.

I slowly put my hand in the depth of her thighs… I could tell she was getting weaker and this thrilled me. I felt like a predator, elated over the submission of my prey. I loved seeing her squirm under the power of my dominance.

I know you wouldn’t believe me if I told you that I’d never done this before, but we were here and I was sexually frustrated.

I was dying of sexual hunger and her teasing was not going to go unpunished.

I noticed the way she looked at me the whole night. The way she casually got naked to change around me as if asking me to come get it.

Cues.

I know because this is what us girls do. It’s how we communicate when we want something. We do things… we show you. She was showing me.

Random sex is not my cup of tea. I’m very particular with who I lay with, but I wasn’t sure if this applied to the same sex.

It had been what, three months after my break up and I must say, I was not handling it quite well.

Let me explain this.

You think only men love sex? Well then you haven’t met a vocal woman.

A woman who is not afraid to say what she wants sexually.

One who is down for sex any time. Anywhere. You haven’t met me.

No, it’s not an addiction. It’s remotely a satisfaction to my semi-nymphomatic tendencies. I only do this within the confines of a steady commitment, and there’s nothing as satisfying as making my man , or woman in this case, subdue with elation.

I digress.

Like I said, I’d never done this before… but, I don’t know, the thrill was beyond immeasurable. I saw her toes curl as she was exasperating with delight. Oh my. I was doing this to her. I was making Angela’s stomach churn. I was fingering her tender loins so gently yet at a tempo that allowed low gasps. She was enjoying it, and I wasn’t going to stop until she squirted.

Serendipity.

This was a subtle revenge. This is in that, she had begged for this. The glares. The sexual innuendo. She had literally been throwing herself at me and I was making her cum to life. I was igniting this flaccid flame. She was going to remember me after tonight. She was going to fall.
The liqour had definitely kicked in.
I started kissing her down her neck. Caressing her breasts. I love breasts. My tongue on her nipples was like my tongue on Strawberry Ripple… I was devouring her tits.

An ocean is what I’d dub her now wet vagina. She was gushing with lady juices and so was I. This scene would have made any member of the male species grow wood harder than mahogany, but I wouldn’t let one in, this was just about her and I. Oh these sheets!

I decided to go in for the kill. Her moans fueled my eagerness… 

“Oooh Robin don’t fucking stop!”

I had this one on my fingers. Both hypothetically and literally. And then my tongue got to her clitoris… Cunnilingus 101.

All the pornhub subscriptions were coming through right now. Paying off I must say because the way she grabbed my hair! Wololo!

So I let my tongue play around her clitoris … Slowly, occasionally making out with her lips. I don’t know why but the satisfaction it gave me was beyond immeasurable, like I was a buck and I had her on lockdown.

Most niggas can’t find the clit. Kazi ni kukula kila kitu 😒

I looked up and her eyes were rolled back, her mouth agape, forming a nute ‘O’as if she had succumbed. 

(Insert DJ Khaled’s voice) I LIKE THAT!!!
I guessed she had already cum and we had had a long night. Angela was going to have a beautiful night. 

I don’t know if she felt like she owed me a reciprocation, but I stopped her when she tried to eat me out. She was tired. Not only from the previous heavy night, but also from the orgasmic experience she just underwent.

I turned over and got into the covers again. Just letting you guys know that sometimes, the side nigga is a girl! 

My work here was done…

Model :Vasoqu

Well. Hi.
I come here when I feel like I need to express myself. When I need to say something I can’t say to anyone else maybe because they don’t listen or I’m not getting the reaction I need.  Maybe even solutions.

I’m just going on an emotional rollercoaster and, I don’t know.
This is the reason I started this blog. To say what I feel. To tell my stories even if just subliminally.

I know it might make me look weak, or defeated. But I’m just a girl. I crumble sometimes. I cry a lot when I can’t handle it all. So I write, especially when music doesn’t work…

I know putting myself out there means I need to be ready to receive criticism. I know I don’t match to everyone’s standards. Be they of beauty, intellect or even just my way of sharing my experiences with you guys on here. It’s okay.

I’ve had people talk the worst about me.

You know, it’s funny how all this is starting to affect me emotionally because normally I don’t care. But maybe it’s because of everything I’m going through right now. I’m so used to building walls and shutting pain out. I guess I’m running out of concrete.

Well I just recently lost someone I didn’t think I’d end up loving as much as I do.
I’m not looking for empathy or an explanation, but I wish I had a reset button.
I will probably regret publishing this for all of you to read, but I don’t care anymore. I’m just tired of talking to people about it. Mainly because I don’t think anyone understands.

I’m disappointed in myself because I’m one to move on quite fast, but I’ve failed. I’m unable to ‘ just move on and forget about him’ like my closest friends constantly advice.

This is where I decipher the ‘How I met my husband’ series for you guys as promised.  Only because the man who was initially to be my happy ending as I was writing part 4 was to be Mark, and shit didn’t play out that way.

Many of my readers were angry at my ending, but you guys didn’t know that I was actually writing as my experiences progressed and unfolded. That’s why I’d take months without updating, but I’m happy you guys were patient and constantly encouraged me to write as you needed to read what happened next.

All my characters exist. Down to Jimmy in part 6. 😂😂
Their names are slightly altered to protect their identities and privacy but I have permission to share as much without compromising their rights.
They read my blogs and it’s been an emotional turmoil whereby they learnt my exact true feelings from this. Things I couldn’t say to them, I put in a story.

I will not say which segment is untrue, just to keep the story juicy for those who haven’t read it yet and also in case I decide to do a follow up post, but I can confirm that the story is as about as relevant to my personal experience as it gets.

The ending changed last minute because, as I said earlier, I lost ‘Mark’.

It’s hard because I blame myself. Everyday. Maybe I gave up too soon. Maybe I should have believed in him more.
Maybe I shouldn’t have shut him out when he needed me there for him.

I’m not about to air his differences and mine here, but maybe if I told you guys what magnitude of emotion I put into my blogs, you’ll read them with the relatability they need.
For people to question my credibility as if what I go through needs vetting is damn near disgusting.
I read all the nasty comments as well. Some shredded to the fact that I’m a female, others to the fact that I’m just a child and so what experience guarantees that I can thrill a reader with much more experience in all matters sex.
These are the times I would confide in Mark and he would tell me how he wished I could see myself through his eyes. How perfect I am to him…
I’m a work in progress. l learn from my mistakes everyday.

Writing is my therapy. I hope this salvages my frail heart from what it is encountering, but I must say, I feel an ounce of relief sharing this.
I’ll laugh on the outside, but at the end of the day I’ll go home to myself. Replay instances where I fell short of being what he needed instead of what I was in my head…
I think about Kyle as well. I wonder if this is how he feels about me…

In short, the whole story is inspired by my real life story that’s been unfolding over these last couple of years…

It’s sad it ended the way it did.
In another life I’d be happy with Mark.  But maybe it’s all for a good cause. Maybe our chakras aren’t as aligned.

Maybe I need this pain to steer me to something that’s better for me.
That’s me trying to be optimistic amidst tears.
Do you think I’m being too hard on myself by blaming myself?

I’m not afraid to say what I feel. Neither an ego from here to Timbuktu nor the fear of looking desperate shall stop me from trying to get what I want.

Sadly I’ve stopped. I’ve given up and started to move on.
It’s only because the effort wasn’t mutual and I have no strength to fight a losing battle. He said I was damaged and I need to fix myself.
Maybe…

Thank you guys for the support and love throughout all this.
Thanks for the views, shares, messages and even concern on my recent breakup with Mark.
My models💜💜
My friends, and strangers who religiously messaged me for spoilers.
It might be a young blog that others ignore or laugh about, but I’m just happy about this.

I appreciate the mean reviews as well cuz hey, I’ve got you reading and hating. That’s as much effort as the bobbiebom fans are putting into this.

I love you guys.

And one last thing, it’s okay to cry. It’s okay.

Xx.

I ran out of the ball
I know you might think I’m echoing the Cinderella story, but I’m not.
No, my slipper wasn’t that of glass.

I ran.
Straight into the parking lot and started looking for the chauffeur. I was going to Kitengela to save my marriage. To beg the father of my child to make things right between us.
I had to get there before the news of my engagement got to him.

I had said yes to Kyle. But only to avoid embarrassing him. It was subconscious. I ran out right after he put that 7carat diamond ring on my finger. I recognised the ring because I’d one time hinted at how nice it would feel to own it.

All this time I was trying to think of ways I could have my cake and eat it. Get the money and still keep the love of my life.

Because Mark showed me a passion so igniting. And his head game?
Well I know you guys know Kyle was good. But with Mark, it was different.

Plus Kyle has HIV. No way I’m letting that man near me sexually. I had been lucky enough to escape the jaws of eternal condemnation.

“Yo Brian, where’s Mark?” I asked his best friend immediately I got to the party. No time for small talk. I needed to make sure he heard the news from the horse’s mouth.

I had changed into jeans as I had passed home to breastfeed. I needed the benefit of comfortability.

The place was swarming with half drunk grown ups. Everyone was staring.
Bloody tell me where my husband is!! The 7 carat bling overshadowing my wedding band.

And then Mark walked in. His normally jovial face, masked with anger. Grief. Disappointment, or maybe he was just drunk.
He passed me on the patio and went straight into the house saying hi to everyone else.
Here we go again. A bout of man moods.

I waited for him. He came out, drink in hand.
God knows I love the liquor breath on my man. I was leaning on a car.
I pulled him to myself. He signaled that we sit.

“Mark baby we need to talk. You need to listen so we can sort. I have shocking but amazing news. I’ve landed a gold mine.”

“No Robin. I’m drunk. I didn’t come here to talk. I came here for Jansen’s party, not to have a couple’s conversation.”

This was going to be difficult. Dealing with his dismissive nature was mentally exhausting.
All these years but this man still gave my nerve endings an awakening. Breath on breath. I was craving his lips. I was tired of the fighting. Maybe Kyle’s fortune was what would save us. I pulled him to Jimmy’s car.

We got in. My real intention was to tell him what I had done and what I wanted.  But, you know sometimes you just cannot explain the sexual power surges that go through your veins. I was on top of him,  our crotches in a slight dalliance, kissing my man vehemently. Mine. My man.

The whiskey I was drowning myself in on my way to Kitengela was kicking in.

Lip biting.
It was just like the first time.

Three seconds into conversation and chill and my top was off.

Oh Mark you just get me!!

I was nibbling on his neck how he loved it and nothing at that time gave me more satisfaction than hearing his whimpers. His rapid breathing, blood was definitely gushing to the right places.

All this while he was grabbing my ass and taking off my pants.
Have you had angry sex before in a friend’s car at a party with everyone else looking in on you but you don’t care?
The thrill of the forbidden fruit…

And the riding began. I felt like I was feeding my heart. Looking right into his eyes as he let my name out in low voiced moans.
He occasionally bickered about how I needed to get off him and stop.

Hell nah. I needed to show him what he was going to miss in on if he continued to drift off.
I mean, I was willing to overlook his shortcomings. I was willing to forgive him and build our love a fresh.

We switched and he was now on top of me.
Jimmy came to the car to get more drinks but that didn’t stop us. It was practically an open show for those who unintentionally came to the car only to find us.
We didn’t care.

Sweet love making. Slow thrusts with precise grabbing. And then he stopped to eat me out.

Jeso!
This tongue. This tongue was made for me.
And we were back at it.
My head was practically out the other side of the car but we didn’t care. And with each stroke I was letting out loud moans and this excited him more.

And then he stopped. He just stopped and ordered me to dress up.
What?
Please usiwai fanyia mschana ii ujinga. Smh. How do you stop someone mid-sex??

“I came to this party to have fun. Not to hang out in a car and waste time with you. If I wanted that I’d have stayed home. This is not talking. Let us talk since you wanted to so bad, I’ve got a few things I need to say as well…”

I tried to seduce him into continuing but he was done.

“Mark I have tried so hard. I’ve ran out of ways to keep us together. I just need your final decision. Tell me. Do you want this? Do you still love me? I don’t care about what you’ve done, I just need to know if we’re together or getting divorced. I’m tired…”

He cut me off. He assured me that he loved me, but was in a dilemma. Naturally I asked and his response dried my pussy in an instant.

“Shanice is pregnant,” he said.

“Yeah, so what? Good for her. What does that have to do with our marriage?”

I was playing coy but I knew what he was going to say.

“I’m responsible. I got her pregnant. I’m sorry, you know I love you with all my heart, but I need time. I need to think about things. I need to know as well if you’ll wait till I can sort this out.”

What do you mean sort this out? You’re my husband. An array of thoughts were now tormenting my mind.
An abortion was the only way to sort it out, until I found out that she was due in a month’s time.
Shanice was Mark’s colleague and old time friend.

It doesn’t end there. He went on to rumble about how he was in love with another. Stephanie if I’m not wrong, and that’s where I had had it!
Stephanie? The girl he constantly denied ever having an affair with. It all brewed under my nose. I should have smelt it.
He would constantly go on trips with her. They were friends, plus she was married. I trusted him.
😢
Everything he said after that is still a blurr. I dressed up, went into the house where everyone was giggling, far from the brink of sobriety. Maybe it was because I had only one shoe on and my hair was a mess from the car action. I got a few shots and decided I was leaving. Everything was just too much to take in all at once.

I went back to get my shoe and when he sarcastically congratulated me on my engagement, I told him to expect divorce papers in a week’s time, that I would be happy if he signed.
I took off my wedding ring and handed it to him.
I had lost the will to fight and it was the last he would see of me in person.
How do I fight for a man who was giving up on me? At the expense of our marriage and child? A man who was handing out semen like it was sweets at a party.

The pain. My tears.
Stephanie? Shanice? I was done.

                 ~a month later~                 

I’m standing on this altar looking upon all my guests. I have an expensive dress on. An expensive ring on. An extravagant life ahead. A sickly Kyle by my side. A huge smile on my face, but immense grief in my heart.

Shanice was giving birth on the same day I was getting married to Kyle.

It’s okay.
I was doing this for my child’s future. I was doing this to secure my financial needs as well as Mark’s but he didn’t see it.  I consoled myself.

I cannot be miserably heartbroken as well as broke. I needed to pick a struggle.

Kyle would soon die and I would wipe my tears away with Louis Vuitton handkerchiefs. It was better than fighting with Mark in an apartment I was struggling to pay for. Or was it?

It’s okay. We can’t have it all.
I hope you are happy Mark.
I hope Shanice is what you really wanted. Sorry, I mean Stephanie.

I have met my husband, and it was never you.

I arrived at the Annual Presidential Ball at around 7pm. Everyone else was already seated and the dinner had commenced. I skipped the red carpet because I wanted little or no recognition in the tabloids. I had only one agenda to fulfil and as soon as I was done, I would leave.

Kyle had instructed his chauffeur to pick me up. With a ready assembled outfit as usual.
He always sent me what to wear any time we planned to meet at sophisticated events. Also, he generally loved showering me with gifts.
I’m not quite sure if it was my attire he abhorred or the latter, but I never asked.

By 6pm that evening, I was enroute to The State House, which was the venue for this ball.
I know I never learn. But this time I needed to reconcile with him. I needed it all to auger well with my soul, plus he was a walking time bomb. I believe he was approaching his final stages of AIDS. But he was a strong man, a strong man who I loved still. A strong man who worshipped the ground I walked on, and so, naturally, I was his plus one for the night.

I took my phone to check if Mark had tried to call me. Nothing.
I checked my messages. Nothing. This man!
I called him but it went straight to voicemail. I left him a message saying that I missed him and that I loved him. I told him I had gone out and thus would be getting very drunk.
I told him that I was aware he was ignoring me, but I would still text him each hour as well as attempt to call him.
Mark hadn’t come home for a week now. But I could see on his social media that he was having fun. All that I needed to know was that he was alive.

It had been well over two years since I had seen Kyle. Since our little situation with Mark in the private alley when he found us engaging in some fleshy action. Mark was his best friend. I had betrayed him. But here I was, conforming to his invites, again.

The hall was magnificent. I was in the presence of dignitaries and the ‘have it alls’ of the country. Models, celebrities, the elite. Kyle had in vain tried to make me get accustomed to this life, but I was contented with my not-so-glamorous life.
It had been a rough five years since the first time I laid my eyes on Kyle and on this night, as he was walking towards me, I started reminiscing.
It all quickly flashed before my eyes, the trips abroad, the love he showed me, the way he still opened doors,pulled chairs and introduced me as his wife.

And the night Olive had us at gun point. The night she blew her brains out in close range. How could I forget that night. The night my heart was shattered into myriads of pieces. The first time Kyle had made sweet love to me. The night I found out he was HIV positive.

He was definitely looking sickly. A frame of what he used to be. A caricature of the Kyle I once knew. My Kyle.
Damn, money makes people look good though. Other than the weight loss, this man was still sharper than any man in sight.

“Hey, are you okay?” He beckoned.
I immediately snapped out of my stupor as he led me to our seats.
‘You look as beautiful as I could ever imagine. I had missed you my love…”

My love? I couldn’t speak. I was so overwhelmed with emotion.

He was in a red coat. His outfit complimented mine as I was in black with a red lip.
Elegance.
He always had his suits custom made. I could go on, but Kyle was looking very good.
His cologne wafted and lingered. I had missed him.

After the meal and speeches, the ball was set rolling and masqueraded couples were poured onto the open space for the routine fox trot and waltz.

“Will you dance with me?” he asked me, holding his hand out, expecting me to hold it in return.

“Wait, Kyle, we need to talk. I need to apologise for what I did. I need to explain to you what happened between Mark and I, you need to know why I left you…”
He hushed me. Signaling that it was okay. That he didn’t need to hear about Mark.

No. This is not how it was supposed to go. He needed to know. I was only here to talk and leave. I reckoned that since he had reached out, I owed it to him to be there.

I agreed.

We walked over to where people were dancing and we began. I was familiar with these routines. A fox trot ensued.

“Baby, the day you walked out of my life, you killed me. But I’m glad you came today. I was afraid you wouldn’t as you have religiously been ignoring my advances. I was praying you would come.” He continued. “I wanted to let you know that you are in my will. All of my fortune is in your name. Everything!”
I gasped, “what?”… He hushed me again.

“Darling I just need you to listen. You and my sons are my sole heirs. We both know that my time here is limited and if you cannot be with me forever, then I need you to be with my sons. I love you. I forgive you.”

This wasn’t the time to be giving me such revelations.
My mind was in turmoil. And just then, Mark’s message came through. I was holding my phone so reflexively, I checked to read.

I’m at a party in Kitengela. At the Jansen mansion. Come if you want us to talk.

A clear finality in the text. No enthusiasm whatsoever. All from the man I married.

Kyle saw it. But he didn’t care. He calmly asked me to put my phone away and almost instantly started to go down on one knee. An egocentric smirk on his face almost as if to laugh at the mere thought that I could actually go to my jobless husband and leave him.

My chest!

No. Don’t do this Kyle. Don’t.
The band stopped. The crowd dispersed. The spotlight was turned on us.

“All I’ve told you is on one condition. You denounce your affiliations to that bastard Mark, you take this ring and become my wife and hence the rightful owner of my estate. So what do you say?”

And my phone started buzzing. It was Mark calling.

Mark and I had been encountering problems in our marriage.
Soon after I gave birth, he was already seeing other women. He was over indulging in promiscuity and drugs. He had recently lost his job and our lives were crumbling.
The financial strain was getting to us.

Mark would never afford or rather offer me such a ring.
We had a lavish life. But not half as classy as the one Kyle was offering me.

I was trying so hard to salvage him. I was trying to save our marriage and look past all the dishonour but here was Kyle, offering me a second chance at life on a silver platter. I was conflicted.

I was battling with logic and rationalism. Love or wealth?

My phone buzzed again.

“Robin, will you marry me?”

Utter silence except for the buzzing of my phone and the loud piercing glares from the now eager AF audience.

Was I going to say no to this man in front of all these people?
On national TV? In the presence of the president? Nah fam. I’m savage, but I’m not stupid.

Ok wait, I’m stupid. I forgot the press was here.
There goes my discretion. So much for avoiding the red carpet.
Oh shit. Mark?

No. He possibly couldn’t be watching the telly at a party. Or could he?
Naaah. People don’t watch the TV at parties. Plus I had my masquerade mask on.

He signaled for the mic to be handed over to him.

“Robin, my love. Will you marry me?”

Yeah. Bastard had to call out my name. Way to go Kyle! Way to go!! -_-

As if I hadn’t heard him the first a thousand times pre-mic.

That ring was the most beautiful thing I had laid my eyes on.

I just stood there.
My phone buzzed again.
It was Mark.

Intuition?

Yeah. Coincidence maybe.
I don’t think I’d sense if a bitch was somewhere proposing to my man.

I picked the call.

Sometimes you’re busy going about your life, enjoying the hoe situations and then the devil decides,
‘No, you are too happy, let me send you a thing called emotions.’

Before I go on, let me put a disclaimer because niggas and hoes might get butt hurt. Insolent fools will be quick to dub me a feminist because I frequently use men as my example. Well, most times, it is the male species I am inclined to date. Others will just hate cuz I probably get checked out by their men.
Women are petty bruh!
But you know what??  My farm of fucks stopped reproducing. Sold it about a week ago. A week ago.
(Did you read that in your Bobby Shmurda voice?)
This is strictly not aimed towards anyone. But if the shoe fits…

Fureni ni ka nimewakulisha baking soda.
Pekin Sora I gat pekin Sora.

This is to everyone. Girls as well as boys. Everyone!!
I’m not angry, neither am I on my periods as I write this.
Actually I’m kushing with the boys. So you can imagine how chilled I am. Kila kitu iko in slow motion brathe!!

Sorry, I’ll change my tone, darling bobbiebom readers, fans and critiques.
Forgive my sarcasm and profanity in advance though.

So I’ll go on.

You are just minding your business, enjoying the hoe life or even being a celibate earthling. And then you are approached.
Mtu anaanza upuzi za how they feel you. And they even start working towards cuffing you.

OK.
If you are like me, you will take time before you go out with this person. Evaluate your priorities. Weigh between whether you want to get fucked or go on with your wanking streak. Or if you are ready to leave the house on occasion and wear clothes so you can go see your baby for ice cream dates. As opposed to YouTubing while naked. Alone. Enjoying your ‘me time’.
It’s a hard decision I tell you!

Mafeelings na relationships sio kalongolongo.
It’s commitment. Trust. Love. Respect. Blah blah blah. Si mnajua izo takataka zote.
God knows I love izo takataka 🙂

OK. So this person coerces you. Your heart starts getting that tingly feeling each time you see or hear from them.
Ati sijui oooh, moyo inadunda dududu. Forgive my ngeli. Ile mi najua ni ya genge pekee.
You know it? That kafeeling?
That’s common sense leaving your body.

Remember that you had NO romantic feelings towards this person. You were okay. In fact , you were relishing in the pit of your own company. No nyef nyefs za mapenzi. They bring themselves. They become part of your life. Now you love them.

Lakini kunakuanga na kaushetani kauingia mtu mmoja. Uyo mtu anaona ni fun akitryzex mchezo wa shika pata potea na emotions zako.

This breed is scavenger-patient. They wait even for months on end. And my oh my don’t they possess a sweet tongue. They will tell you everything you need to hear. They will be there for you.

All this in a bid to prove their ‘feelings’ to you.
It’s only a matter of time before you start to reciprocate these love waves. So you decide to tell your hoes that umepata mshikaji and you are focusing on them. No side pieces for a while. The situation is exciting. You can already imagine yourself doing all those stupid things couples do for the gram and Snapchat

Focus.
At this point, the girls are willing to panua their legs for the lying boys gymnastics style.
In the case of boys, they are willing to spend their pocket money savings (that mommy gave them), on the lying girls.
Sad eh?
Haha lakini girls are evil eh. Women have learnt the game and sadly, they are overtaking the male species in deceitful valour.
(I’m restricting this to my age group ju watu wazee waliacha kuomba mummy pesa)

Oh. The moment you copulate, home ground!
Sometimes it doesn’t even get to coitus.
And then the loser who made you fall in love with them ‘anaanza kuboeka’. For lack of better words.

They stop replying texts. They avoid you. They detach. They become busy. They always have excuses. They lie. Umonkey tu mob.
No reason. No explanation. No apologies or honesty. Just lies.

What I know is, when someone loves you and wants to be with you and they know you feel the same, nothing will stop them. They will work towards and fight for you. Ata ka alikua na Jack na Catherine kwa Titanic, ataswim akuje akupende, ata postpone death.

Mara alivunjika mguu akiwatch TV. Sijui oooh, Mara alinyoa nywele yote ndio maana hawezi kukutext all day. Ama mdame wako akushoo yeh ni lesbian…

Alafu atakugeuzia akusho ni ju haumtrust. Rich!

Schupidd.

But Snapchat, ako tu na malightskin, hepiii!!. Au ukimwona anakatia tu watu wengine mbele yako ndio uskie kimnatho. (Other word for kuskia kiwaru)
Be careful not to catch HIV trying to make someone who doesn’t care jealous.
They start going steady with the person they told you not to worry about when y’all were together.

So you start contemplating suicide.
Oh, I jumped the gun?? Too soon!? JK.

Hahhha. Okay. No suicide. So you get hurt because you are now in love with this person. What do you do ?

You dumped your hoes.
You just want what they promised you. Love and exclusivity because hey! You’ve sacrificed a lot for this. Right?
But they don’t care.
I insist. You love this person.
You probably went against people’s warnings about them. You had their back. You shunned their past mistakes. You forgave. Because you love them.

At this juncture, they start what I call ‘the madharau phenomenon’

Utaanza kulengwa budah. Blue ticks kama mlologongo wa siafu. Ukisema ‘I love you’ unajibiwa ‘okay’. Ole wako kama you have many mutual friends. This guarantees that you shall be around each other most of the time.
They might even go as far as being suggestive with your friends of a different gender from theirs.
Eh, aki si nastruggle kukua neutral. But inabidi ju staki kuitwa feminist. Na staki waschana wafure. Kumwagiwa acid haikai fun. Plus this face is my money.

So you find yourself in awkward situations. I won’t even expound on the heartbreaking pain, tears, sleepless nights, binging on food and drugs, exclusion etc. Idk how you deal with pain.
You start feeling like you have a problem. Maybe your dick was too small for her, or maybe your pussy was shit to him. Or maybe you aren’t curvy enough, or you’re too fat, or you are such a short man, or maybe her ex had a better car than yours. Hell, maybe you have no car. All your insecurities find a haven at the top of your mind and heart. It’s painful.

I feel like if you’re the jerk that does this to someone, at least let them know why you’re curving them. Ata ka ni mdomo yake hunuka. Just fucking say, ah!

I’d just like to know. When you decide to string someone along, especially after using your precious time to bag them, or use them in whatever way, what’s normally going through your mind??
What steriods is your hate on?
How do you patiently wait to get someone then bail?
(email me answers on [email protected]) cuz I swear on my life I just don’t get it.

So now what next after? The victim is expected to just heal and move on? Be your friend? Text you? Oh. I forgot you won’t reply. Haha.
Oh. Kwani ni brikicho?

Maze.
Ii generation hunibo.
Si tukue tu honest. Say what you want before you send mixed signals. Make shit clear!!!
I know many people relate to this. And I’m sorry you had to go through anything of this sort. Just thank God it all didn’t get too far.
Also, humans with such malignant tendencies DO NOT DESERVE YOUR BEAUTIFUL HEART.
It’s okay.

Watu wanasema Robertta Bobbie hupenda kuongea ju ya such stories, kwani yeh huumizwa kila saa.
I never address these comments because I hardly blog about my personal life , and when I do, I make it indirect.

Maybe I’m in love with a man who treats me like a queen. Maybe I’m in a shitty relationship. Maybe I’m single. Maybe I’m a hoe. Maybe I’m a lesbian. You’ll never know because it’s a mystery.

All I needed to say was that I believe in karma. Don’t do unto others what you would die if done to you.
You don’t know what battles someone is trying to overcome and maybe you were their only light at the end of the tunnel but you disappointed their love and trust for you.
Pukka on your heartbreaking endeavours. I hope you girls and boys are proud.

Lemmi stop being philosophical but it’s not fresh.

Personally, if anyone out of my about 40,000 readers sees this and had the intention to belittle my intelligence and undermine my feelings by stringing me along, just stay the fuck away from me.

Fuck stringing someone along. Just tell them you want to fuck and bail instead of lying about love and emotions.
Ile lightning itakustrike inafanya press ups.

Bye.
Robertta Bobbie.