Enough with the veneers, let us cut to the chase and call things for what they are. Dating a Nairobi lady meets every quintessential qualification of a high-risk sport complete with its dynamism, competition and possibility of severe injury (especially to your pockets).
Young men are writhing under the claws of these damsels who are selfish narcissists who have turned relationships into employment opportunities and poverty alleviation schemes.
How we moved from a generation of women who wore their sense of self-respect and pride like a badge of honor to a cabal of lazy, entitled leeches who ask for pesa ya salon the moment you mutter ‘hi’ is an enigma that sociologists should help unravel.
The moment you show the slightest modicum of interests in her, you automatically owe her rent. Young men, you came to Nairobi to join University through Helb, or to hustle and your uncle met you at Country bus clad in old ‘Reebok,’ and nylon trousers complete with a John Cena T-shirt.
Your village contributed towards your fee and your mother toiled in the sun to give you pocket money, not to mention the number of times her knees have had intercourse with the hard floor when she is beseeching the almighty Daddy to shine His blessings on you.
Yes, today you are a man in every sense of that word. The whiffs of your cologne introduce you where words cannot suffice. The folks back home yearn for you to settle down with a wife- not a jezebel who uses paints on her face in the name of makeup and has nails that would make Beelzebub look like a toddler.
A woman who can barely brew tea without consulting Google, walks around with a huge trail of dead Asians hair sewn on her head and can twerk harder than she can think!
Listen. It is time to teach these overrated city girls a lesson. Go back to the villages and find wives. Come on, save yourselves! Young men are spending half of their earnings on their Nairobi women, how can a well suckled man, a true son of his mother fall for the spell of a woman just because of her fellatio skills, her woishe in the middle of conversations and who wants you to buy her a boutique dress before you can hit her honey pot which is often also bland and overused?
Ask a Nairobi woman for a date, she wants you to send an Uber, calls for a drink worth five times what you send your folks at home every month and will likely come to the date armed with her ‘I cannot date a broke man’ squad of fickle minded slay queens whom she told, ‘twendeni tukunywe ule fala.’
Oh, and throughout the date, she will be sending nudes and emojis to other men while giggling like an inebriated village vagabond. Imagine obliterating your finances and she cannot even as much as revere you a little! Gosh, just fathom the thought of wasting money on a public good while your mama, the woman whose throat dries up with constant supplication for you walks around the village in tatters, are you bewitched?
And when she finally lets you hit, oh! The romp would be horrible! Her face would be tout, devoid of emotions because she has cakes of mud masquerading as foundation. After paying for her rent, food and drinks, she will barely lift her waist. You know why, because she does not want to sweat since it will make her wig smell, ha!
Her jaws are already tired from jumpstarting the phallus of the married sponsor and she cannot wait for you to roll over so that she can catch up with the girls on Instagram live.
How dare you empty your hard earned money on such useless goods just because you want an ‘exposed, grammar spitting city-woman?’ So instead of ranting without proffering solutions, here is one, go get a village girl.
With soda baridi which she sips with the precision of a surgeon while savoring the taste and chips; aiiii, she will be guffawing at your bland jokes and composing paeans for you. If you surprise her with these mothers’ union pants and Kitenge, baaaaas, she will be hailing you, ‘igweeeee.’ She is not impressed by mundane shit and as long as you live in Nairobi even if you reside in Huruma Mobimba, she is game.
Weave for who? Mlazo hairstyle would suffice and can only change it to ‘rasta braids’ during Christmas. No, no bloody standards, she can give it to you at the green lodge and mind you, they still have a grip. A woman who at least clings on you and moans her soul out during sex. Not these emotionless, dispassionate city lasses. You will leave her with 200 bob and find mboga kienyeji ya maziwa na ugali moto when you return home from work. Try the same with a Nairobi woman and you will find a poorly cooked cabbage and tasteless eggs staring at you.
Pray tell, why then would you go for these pseudo gold-diggers?