Long Hiatus

I was talking to 0.5 recently and asked about introvertedself. Obviously, you have noticed that I haven't posted a damn thing in ages. First of all, our internet link was disconnected. Then our CEO left (ran is more like it), then we get a new CEO and after a week the business shuts down. So like Samborera postulated, yes, someone lost their job. Hence, I am now at a cyber cafe, which wont happen alot, hindered by cost and time obviously.

Thus, I announce the start (continual maybe?) of my long hiatus.

Later.

Eerie Friday.

I have been awake since 2.15 AM. I lost sleep, so I loaded a movie.
I watched the sun rise. It was already hot at 6.00 AM. One blistering day it was going to be.

Just.

It is 8.40 AM (East Africa Time) now. It is cold. The clouds have checked in, straight out of the blue. I am sleepy.
My mind is still booting. I will come back later in the day.

Where's everybody gone?

I take a couple of days off work and the introverted self shows off his true colours. Did anyone loose his job while I was away, or are we just broke and have nothing to say.

The Tropez chic

Let's hop into the time machine and go back to last Friday.

I left the office early [before 1900] and was walking towards downtown to get my mat. Brrrr. Brrrr. An sms checks in. Pitia Tropez. I'm vaguely aware of this Tropez place so I take a detour towards that direction.

I check in to the place and find a line. I'm a bit bemused but figure that this isn't too abnormal. After a short while I get impatient and peek to the front of the misplaced queue just to realise all these guys ahead of me have been frozen by the bouncers and are debating about their age. I walk in, scan the space. No one familiar. I see some stairs and head that way. The place is packed. The music is too loud. I'm not coming back here ever again.

I notice a chic in a black v-necked top, but there are sooo many women around. Kamikaze and 0.5 are in the house and I join them, still clutching my Nakumatt paperbag with some toothpaste and fa soap. At some point, the chic in a black top moves to a table across ours and I notice. 0.5 must have said something to spur me because next thing I knew, I was walking up towards her. She was with some pal so I said my his and then the usual 'you're so beautiful' comes flying out of my mouth. She says she's given me 20 mins but at 2 mins, I'm already short of meaningful conversation. I make a quit exit, making her promise to pass by our table before she leaves.

We end up leaving before them so I go up to her. Some guy is also trying to negotiate for a couple of minutes of her time, but I figure I was there first. I ask for her number. She takes my phone and weka's it in. [Don't go to the gutter yet]. We head for Jack Swing and the rip-off of the 140-bob water. While there, I meet another chic on the floor whose number I acquire. I didn't do the 'you're so beautiful' thing because I don't exactly like lying. Not that she was bad looking. There's something distictively subjective about attraction.

The clock strikes 4 am. Witches are probably up and about around town. Brrrr. Brrrr. Brrrr. Someone's calling me? It's the Tropez chic flashing me. I hurriedly call her back. She's at Choices. Her friend is with her boyfriend and she's bored. Can I come over? My mind starts doing the math. I'm with basically all my friends here. My friends vs an attractive chic. To my surprise, my friends win and I tell her how I'll try to make it there if we leave on time.

As soon as I hang up, I have this sudden urge to leave. I immediately decide that this place is not boring anymore and start making gestures to everyone that it's time to leave. Shortly, she calls me again. Am I going to make it? Now I'm not so convincing in telling her I may pass by. Finally, we leave. As we are at the gate, she calls again, now sounding a bit fed up. Are you coming? It's almost 5. Finally, I succumb. I decide to leave the only guys I hang out with week in week out. I'll be there in 10 mins I confidently tell her. I was about to turn and hail a cab, but asked out loud 'who wants to go to choices?'. Guys look at me with disbelief on their faces. I tell them the way I have 10 mins to get to some chic and some symphathy checks in for me. We rush to choices.

0.5 and I check in but some bouncer-wannabe tells us the place is locked. I'm confused. The guy must have seen the shock on my face cause he let us in. They are in the basement so we hang out there for a little while. Just chatting about music and stuff. It's basically morning so we leave, get to town, buy some fries and say our goodbyes.

That's the Tropez chic.

Boy Toy

I don't think it's a secret that I fancy older women. [Not someone's-grandma older] I'm not sure where or when this fetish was established in my mind but I've had a few recent encounters that have reinforced this feeling.

First and foremost, one can have a conversation with an older woman. No silly mind games. No emotional nonsense. You can just hang out. Of course my motives in such encounters aren't the most noble or gentlemanly [what's more noble than finding a woman sexually attractive and telling her as much?]. Whatever the case, as 0.5 points out, perhaps they have viewed me as a boy toy, to enjoy for the night. Now I don't mind being a toy for the pleasure of a lovely woman, but is some honesty and straightfowardness too much to expect. If you don't want to speak to me anymore, all you have to do is tell me as much. Ignoring my calls just won't do. I don't take up hints too quickly.

Looking at things from her point of view, what can I possibly give her. She has a car, house, job and kid. Probably a couple of guys at the office complementing her every accessory. What am I good for then? I'm not going to start some whirlwind romance. We aren't going to get hitched. She possibly has pals to hang out with on the weekend, so what do I have to offer? Only my expressing of the fact she is attractive, which everyone needs once in a while.

I guess my task is done and I need to move on ... to the next older woman.

Women: Can't live without them, can't shoot them

That's a quote from someone I know [I am nowhere near as witty, or bold]

Looking back at my posts ... Well I don't have to look. Basically all I write about here is about my travails with the fairer sex. I am not complaining, but just a bit frustrated at myself. There was a time when I was depressed, wishing some woman, any woman would even glance at me [and not that contemptuous glance]. I then got caught up in a cycle with my favourite flasher [who flashed me yesterday for the first time in a month], deleting her number and promising never to call, then pestering her a few days later when the loneliness checks in. Anyway, I digress.

I was at a similar point yesterday [accepting the painful fact that I'm not God's gift to women] and sauntered to work with that on my mind. Just after accepting this fact, I had a sudden urge to call the bima chic [whose number I had deleted the previous night as she'd never returned my calls or texts]. So I did. Guess what. She picked up. [I think God was trying to let me down gently]. So we chat and she's her usual bubbly self. [How I'd love to see her again] My day suddenly brightens up and I send her a text later, yesterday evening. 1 hour and no reply. My heart is aching so I give her a call. No reply. Nada. I'm back where I was the previous day. Swearing to myself never to bother her again. Today morning, once again, going off to work, thinking how wonderful it is to be a Friday and I'll be on leave for a couple of days next week. I decide to pass by the gorgeous chic's office. Say hi. Conversed for all of 2 mins, but that was enough to put a smile on my face. Tried to call the bima chic again. Still no reply. I'm back to my depressed state. The Tropez chic is also now not picking up my calls. I'm glad I don't drink or smoke, otherwise I would be in real big trouble. Now I drown my sorrows in gulps of warm soda.

What to do, what to do. The chics I fancy are distincly allergic to me, and those who I consider not attractive are the only ones who at least flash me. [I hear they get desperate when they hit 30, so it's not all lost]

no inspiration

It sure feels lonely up in here.

I am in a 'drifting' state of mind.

OK. I have 5 episodes of Desperate Housewives. Currently, only one (the second episode) can be viewed on a player. As for the others, you need to install Windows Media 9+ or install .avi codecs. I really am saying bullshit, huh?
I have to say something, if only to keep busy.
There was a fast flow of DVDs around here. Guys exchanging and stuff. I have even seen someone with 24 Season 4 (I will investigate and get back). So I broke the bank to buy a player so I can tap in and enjoy.
Alas, the flow has dried up.

Movies. There are titles I have hunted for but can't get. Or rather, I have not exhaustively hunted for them yet. These I want for keeps.
1. Pulp Fiction
2. Casino
3. Hannibal
4. Silence of the lambs
5. Analyze this
6. Red Rock West
7. The good, the bad and the ugly (this is impossible to find)
8. Shawshank redemption
9. Basic Instinct
10. Carlito's way
11. Gladiators

Now I have dried up. I will be back to write some more bullshit.

Ranting and Raving

Allow me.

There is a woman I usually help make reports, a bit of SQL here, some VBA there. I did such a thing yesterday, she had suffered a lot because, you see, I had been on leave. As a token of appreciation, she drags me to lunch. I usually don't like having lunch with ladies. Why? Something always happens. So, I am taken to this place in Bandari plaza that looks like Nandos. So we grab the food, and sit.
I run out of talk and decide to have my first bite. Very nice. I continue. All this time, she is looking at me.
The half full plate was still on the tray.
"Aren't you going to put the tray away?". I felt like kicking myself. Kamikaze would probably have said.
"Put the tray away you idiot." Then probably ask an invisible God: "Whats wrong with this guy?".
For my part, I would probably shrug off with "ah fuck off" and forget about it. It is no big deal really, I have faired worse.

The year is 2000. I am in some woman's room. To say I liked her is to monumentally mis-represent things. I fancied her. I was in perfect health, then. Then right out of the blue some mucus (forgive me) starts streaking down my nostrils.
#@$%#%!
I start grabbing my pockets for a handkerchief that could not possibly be there. My subconscious mind knows there is no handkerchief (I did not have a cold). I am struck by sheer horror. Something akin to going for treatment of a small injury wound only to wake up and find both your legs have been amputated.
Quickly now, I have to save face. I try some long intakes of air, stalling for time. This time she was playing with my shirt or something. I cannot recall, there were a billion things on my mind.
I am trying to walk out, talk and breathe at the same time. Shit hits fan and the fish lands on the surface. I ran out.
I could NEVER look her in the eye again.

Lets forget about me and my mishaps with women.

It is being said that another hurricane, Rita, (why these names Katrina, Rita?) is going hit the US Gulf Coast. This one will be worse, or just as bad. Guys have already clogged the highways trying to run.
Normally, one would sympathise with such people. Strangely, I don't. While humanity is generally a miserable lot, Americans are an especially vile lot. They have to trample on every one. They mess the environment like 1000 times more than everyone else. Then their president arrogantly refuses to ratify the Kyoto protocol. The loot from their industry? This they use to bash everyone into submission. Small time diplomats come here and address the president like he is a fucking schoolboy.
That people should not visit Kenya because there is a terrorist threat. So why was the same advisory not issued against Spain and more recently Britain?
So only America is now standing.
Katrina checks in and flattens New Orleans. But I find it hard to sympathise with America. They have visited upon themselves a disaster of a huge magnitude. Or to put it more precisely, they have visited upon the Blacks of New Orleans a huge tragedy.

Then that oaf, Bush, stands in front of cameras, his cheeks puffed up, stomach protruding probably from a sumptuous meal. He tries to conjure up a face and aura of sadness, jerking off about how he was concerned about the plight of the victims.
I remembered I had bought the TV for 22000 and restrained myself from throwing the mug I was holding at it.

I am feeling less angry now. I will have to stop watching CNN in the morning.

Weekender

Taking a peek at my wallet reveals what day it is today. My wallet says it's that time of the month, one week before payday. [My wallet seldom lies about these things] What this implies is that a brother will spend his weekend in bed, listening to music and reading a book or newspaper or something.

Thursday.

I have passed the first bloody exam. Good. I have Kamikaze to thank for the post-victory celebrations.
I have a massive hangover. And Td was in the house. The nerve of him to report to work at 1.00 PM. Beats anything else I have ever heard. Some people are just lucky.

Once again there were too many women who were clad in things that only pretend to be clothes. I feel exactly the same sentiments like one Michael. Let them walk naked if they can. It makes one wonder, how is it that men still dress in trousers that get stuck to the soles of your shoes, and shirts that have long sleeves and still put sweaters on?
There is something fundamentally flawed with the modern day young woman.
As I am writing this, there is one just meters away from where I am dressed like that.

Damn this brokeness.

Keep your head up

One thing I've learnt recently is that there are too many women in this town for one of them to give you stress, holding up her nose at you. On Friday alone, I got 2 phone numbers, by doing nothing more than asking for them. Yup. That's all. This doesn't work all the time, especially if a chic is enjoying rides in a RAV4. That, 0.5, is no need to be discouraged.

Things get turned around when these chics approach or turn 30. All of a sudded, you'll start looking all handsome and stuff and your jokes will become ever so funny. So. Just keep at it. Don't try too hard.

And who's Eva Braun anyway. A white chic? I see chis who feel hot and just smile ... because I've seen way hotter and sexier. Wachannaye!

jack swing

A good song becomes better when a bottle of beer is sitting on a table for one, and you are addressing that bottle in a very direct way.
That which is very good becomes better still when there are countless skimpily clad women shaking their behinds to the rhyme.

Yet I could not rid of the feeling that the Carnivore jack swing is a total rip off. And its not because I listen to old music a lot. I do that at Seasons and I still feel good.

What is the justification for selling a bottle of water at Shs 140? You should have seen the look on Michael's face. A hard punch to the jaw could not have fared better. Unless they send Hindu pilgrims to collect it from the streams of the Himalayas.

You know I can almost bet one evening with a lady at this place will gut your savings (if, unlike me, you are wise and have seen the advantage of an exercise such as saving). Those delicate drinks they usually have, picking at ridiculously small amounts of foods stuck on sticks (but cost the equivalent of a herd of cattle), in futile attempts at appearance of culture and sophistication would leave... I don't want to think about it.

Yet I will still go back. And pay 130 for a beer. Like I go back to many things that I should not.

Action != Reaction

Isaac Newton must have been crazy, or stoned when he coined this one.

Kamikaze WILL remember an unfortunate Friday (some weeks back) at Tropez. On this day, I inadvertently let it slip that I know a certain tall thin lady who was prancing about the bar doing mostly nothing.
Then Kamikaze did that sudden approach thing which I am not quite capable of, (fear) using an opening line that is best quickly forgotten. Worse, he dragged me into the melee. I made a total fool of myself, mumbling incoherently. Back to my Newton's law. That was action 1.

The Reaction.
Recently (yesterday), I stumbled upon Eva Braun in one of those joints for lunch. She was perched royally on the front seat of someone's (a man) RAV 4. She gave me a look like I had been dredged out of a pit latrine, in a manner to say: "I am way out of your league".

Worse, happens that she knows another colleague (who is prettier) and has a more civil attitude. Eons ago, this chic used to talk to me. Now she gives me those cool gazes, and purses her lips tightly in acknowledgement. A great leap.

A small aberration by 2 drunk men, no 1 drunk man (not me), and look where that got me.

Round 5 - At her mercy

I have been telling a story about my encounters with the most beautiful woman I've laid my hands... sorry, my eyes on, for quite some time.

The latest was Friday when I passed by her office. Luckily, I got her just as she was making herself a cup of tea. Well. The important thing is that I got to see her. We chatted a bit [I'm not reknown for my smoothness when it comes to chatting up women]. She declined lunch and I figured making further attempts to call or see her would be too painful for me. So. I left her with the number of my place of work [I have a better chance of her calling me there rather than on my mobile] and asked her to give me a shout whenever.

I will give myself this one week ... and if she doesn't call or something, then I'll move on, considering myself extremely fortunate and priviledged to have had the pleasure of making an acquaintance with one of the most beautiful women in this town.

Over to you, gorgeous.

Invasion

I decided to keep blogging, as long as I don't spend too much time. So, after that short hiatus, I'm back.

This weekend, my eyes were opened. [Literally even] I was out on the town on Friday [with you guys of course] and Saturday, and was amazed at the multitudes of women in this town of ours. It's like some UFO had landed and unleashed hordes of beautiful women, clad in all manner of tight fitting garments. My visual senses were experiencing a major overload. What, pray tell, is the cause of this phenomenon, or have I just been experiencing psychotic episodes. More importantly, how does a man survive in this new environment.

Hiatus

Today started absolutely beautifully. I called the bima chic jana and she actually picked up! Then today morning, I passed by the gorgeous chic's office and actually found her.

About mid-morning, everything changed. I got an email alerting all staff to a new 'Computer Use' policy. On checking it out, my heart sunk. I felt anguish envelop me as I read section by section.

It had been coming for a while, but like death, I didn't want to talk about it until it actually happened. The main thing in this new policy, for me at least, is that Internet use is now restricted, requiring approval for non-work activities. This is all when and good for the company, but one man's meat is another's poison. Right now, I'm not sure if I'm violating this procedure as I'm posting this from the office.

Samborera will therefore be taking a hiatus from the blogosphere. I could do the cyber cafe thing, but that is just not appealing.

Stay stong, my brothers. I will try and keep up with your exploits.

Adieu.

The real deal

It's good to have 0.5 back on the blog. How was your leave. What goodies did you bring back.

I've had a bunch of interesting stuff going on of late, and have learnt a lot [and still continue to] about life. I have also learnt some stuff about myself. I'm not a good guy, neither am I a wise guy [Of King Solomon's type]. I feel inadequate to teach or advice anyone, because I know what a mess I am. I'll leave that at that for now.

The reality of my 'exploits' with women of late are down to 2 things. Money and Madness. I've had moments of temporary insanity which have caused me to do and say all kinds of crazy things to women who are complete strangers to me. I consider myself somewhat of an introvert and have an idea where such dutch courage is coming from. That's for later.

Money. What makes the world go round. That's definitely true in this town. I wouldn't encourage anyone to take this route to obtain such pleasures as having a soft bossom next to hold against your chest, unless you are rich. I am not. Truth be told, the real challenging women [typically older, with their own job and stuff] I've tried my kung fu stunts on have not been moved by my antics. Perhaps, they may have been surprised [and/or a bit drunk], hence the business cards.

I met the bima chic at carni, on my first time at Jack Swing. It was almost morning, and the dance floor was basically empty. There I was scanning the place, going round and round in measured fashion as I sought out someone to dance with. Then I see a chic standing there, some distance away from the dance floor. I focus my gaze on her. She feels my eyes on her. I smile. She reciprocates. That's my cue. I walk up to her and tell her how she has a lovely smile and stuff [I never really know what I say during these episodes. It's just insane]

After telling each other how lovely it is to smile, we dance. After sometime, her 2 friends pass by and ask her how she could be doing such things in public! I figure she must be someone high up in society but wonder about her friends. Why oh why, do chics have to have a friend to spoil everything.

Anyway, at some point we stopped dancing, but I wasn't about to go home. Noooo. I hang around on the floor hoping she would come back. It was so bad I was dancing to blues all by myself, with probably 2 other couples the only other people to indulge the DJ.

Everyone has a breaking point, and my threshold isn't that high. I threw in the towel and decided to leave, but first I had to take a piss. As I make my way there, we meet again, smile kidogo, nini na nini. She takes a look at me ... then opens her purse and removes some thing. [Forgive my ineptitude with words]. I figure she's grabbing a smoke as it's one of those things [there I go again] you see guys in movies getting cigarettes out of. A cigarette holder?

That's not what it was anyway. It was a business card holder [Much better than saying 'it was another thing']. She pulls out a card and says I can call her. I start mumbling how I'll call her day and night [In other words, temporary insanity checks in]. I hang around a bit [she's with her friends who are really looking at me badly], then tell her I'm leaving. Apparently, they also are. So we walk out. She mumbles something like 'do you know how old I am?', but that's not a concern. I don't do relationships anyway. I'm thinking of taking a cab for the ride home, but she has a car [A red bima]. I go to open the back door but she insists that I take the front seat. She drops me off at the gate to our esto ... and that's the last time I saw her.

Tried to call her the next day, but I think she wasn't too keen on meeting. [Oh. I ran out of stuff to say so asked if we could have lunch or something, and I think she got freaked out]. Tried the sms thing, and had better results. Tried calling later but she wouldn't pick up. I was torn. I still am. I'll give her a call today. [I don't know why I torture myself thus]

So you see, 0.5, I can have my way with most any young college going/jobless chic in town, and not down to my suave nature, but that's where the good stuff ends. The real heroic stuff [like spening the night at Jane's place [another older woman who has her job, car, house, etc] hasn't happened. I've tried calling the gorgeous chic but she's always out or in a meeting. I passed by her office today morning and it was the same thing. Meeting with the boss. Story of my life.

So you see. I'm an ordinary guy. You get that car you talked about some time back and see how your fortunes will change.

face "ooooffff"

Samborera's exploits leave me greeeen with envy.

That Booby woman, eeeeww. My brain will need to be scrubbed with very strong reducing agents for her image to clean out.
As if that is not enough, the man has to now go ahead and know another one who drives a BMW.
I would gladly do the Travolta face off thing (if such a thing were possible) for a 1 months salary.

They say (I don't know where ...), that if a child washes his hands, he can eat with adults. I need these kind of skills. Got to watch the master closely.

The old methods are not working any more.

One day at a time ...

The resident Kamikaze observed that he may not have a job to go to this week, but I hope things get better for him ... and his employers. I have never been the bravest guy around and the thought of losing my job has scared me on occassion. More recently, there's been much pressure and stress at work and this prospect has been almost imminent on occassion.

Yesterday night as I left the office at 2230, I had a certain calmness. I hadn't finished the stuff I was meant to do by the deadline that had passed, but I felt strangely calm. Almost numb. I try to do my best, and even though I fail numerous times, that's the only thing I can do.

Worrying for me has been second nature, and like all habits, is difficult to stop. I've come a long way, but life continues to teach me and strengthen me.

0.5 is on leave this week. [I've been wanting to take leave for a while now, but urgent projects and unrealistic deadlines don't give you such luxuries] Waking up is becoming a difficult battle, but we shall overcome.

As Murphy would say,

Smile, tomorrow will be worse.

Drudging away at the sea bottom

It's been a long day and my spirits are still low. Blogging has become therapeautic [I should tell my shrink to check it out]. Jotting down my highs, and now my lows, seems to be helping me adjust and cope.

I sent an email to the older woman who drives a bima [a story for another day], but she hasn't replied. Work today has been tedious, and my exertions over the weekend haven't helped.

I will go home and become rejuvenated. Have a meal without rushing. Tomorrow has it's own problems, so we'll worry about them then.

Tomorrow will be a brighter day.

A change of heart

I have had some interesting stuff going on in the recent past, flirting left right and centre, but today, I've had a change of heart.

For some reason [I'm probably just depressed and this will go away], I don't wish to engage women in coversations with sexual undertones [and consequences?]. This applies to the gorgeous chic, the MSN chic, the light big-busted chic you guys met on sato night, and her friend, the nice boobed [I'd rather call her the big-assed chic in scarce underwear] chic who 0.5 was obsessing about. [Just for the record, I had a date with her the next day]

Now surely, this cannot be sane, and that is why I seek to spend my days and nights NOT searching out women.

Isn't that something

Isn't it though. How you guys have been blogging like mad.

Well, its been ages (I really wanted to use eons, but Samborera beat me to it a while back) since I was last here, blogging my time away. Right now I am operating from a cyber cafe. Our office is cash-strapped - late salos, incomplete when they arrive, disconnected internet, disconnected phone lines, C.E.O resigns - humdrum for me, been there before. Probably won't have a job by Monday.
Maybe it is a curse, I will never get a "proper" job. I should pack it all in, join a local soccer team, or rugby team. Give it all up. Its a given I don't have a mind for business - whatever that is.

Aaaah well. On to more heart warming matters. Of course it warms my heart hearing about everyone else's tribulations with the fairer sex (they are the most unfair people on this earth, but who am I to say?).

With Samborera busy stopping women in their tracks (I wanted that to sound like they want to, couldn't pull it off though) and 0.5 being our local "Pretender" (seen it on TV? - I so wish I was that guy. In fact I wish I was alot of guys. I will have a talk with 0.5 and he can give me some pointers).

That was some real funny stuff. I have had to read like two weeks of blogging in one hour. Cracking up at this cyber cafe.

Last evening, this "someone" let it slip that she actually thinks she is doing me a favour, everytime we meet. Not in those words. I suggested we meet for drinks (Its Friday! Cuhmun! Just a few drinks eh? - my words, or something equally feeble minded). By then, it sounds like we are haggling over something.

Him: Please come.
Her: No I can't.
Him: Why not?
Her: Have to get home and do my laundry.

On and on like that, then it hit me. Why was I so intent on spending my money (and that is such a scarce resource for me) on someone who will not willingly come. She says she has to go home. If she comes for drinks it will only be for a while. And which do I prefer? She takes a rain check, or comes for like an hour or two. And while she is deciding, I should make my way to the pub, early enough,so that if she does appear, the better for me. I will see her longer. So from all this, I deciphered that she has it in her mind that I am actually spending money to spend time with her, she is alloting me some time-slice. And it should all fit her schedule. Hog crap!!!

I must be retarded. Have to be.

Got to go. Happy blogging.

Simultaneous Chess Matches

I can remember seeing or hearing at least, about grand masters who'd play chess against multiple opponents concurrently, and end up winning most[all?] contests. I seem to remember a series with such a plot. If tomorrow never comes? A classic.

In the recent past [read in the course of this week], I've been flirting quite a bit. Let me correct that. I've been flirting for a long time, but only in the recent past have I followed up on some casual, [or not so casual] pursuits.

I've been chatting to this chic on MSN this week, and being the stubborn guy I am, I have refused to play by the rules, and I'm off to a local pub to meet her.

Details will be posted on Monday.

Round 4 - I'm not the first

The chronicles of my encounters with one of the most beautiful women I've laid my eyes on in a long while continue.

In Round 4, it was time to ease up a bit. I am not one to just sit and wait for 3 days to call [or whatever the rule book says]. She gave me her business card so I gave her a call this lunch hour.

Mmmm... The same reassured, unafraid voice. I mumbled about, as I do a lot in this kind of situations, laughing as I go along. [I find it real hard to put a serious tone, even though I know sometimes that's what will be considered appealing]. I couldn't ask her out, again. I've already done that twice, once for lunch and once for 'after work', and the results are chronicled here. A bit of small talk about work, and that was it. No real eagerness on the other end of the line, which I always sense for.

Apparently I'm not the only raving mad lunatic walking this town. She confesses that she's been stopped a number of times. No details on what my fellow potential future mathare colleagues said to her. That's for another day. There WILL be another day.

Normal is boring

The ever articulate 0.5 points out that my one-two punch combination sent the lovely lady [I'll get a proper name for her soon] careening away from me.

I have had similar situations where my eagerness has scared off a lovely lass. [A wonderful older woman who drives a bima comes to mind. Perhaps I should try and contact her again. I'll look for her business card tonight]. Anyway, I have realised that I often don't play by the rules in this and many other situations in life, mostly because I don't know the rules. Even when I do, I find conforming for the sake of it excrutiatingly difficult and as such, I'm slowly accepting who I am. I like doing things because I want to and not because society expects me to. I have not had a chic to speak of all my life, and this price for the 'abnormal' in me is one I'm willing to pay.

I will likely go home and lick my wounds tonight ... and look for Charity's business card.

mind travel

For me, there is nothing normal about pursuing a woman. On the few occasions I have done it, I have had to use some drastic measures, tap in on some will power and strength that I know is there but is very evasive.

I like yarns. They work wonders. I tell them because it is easier for me to imagine things. I have been many "things" in my life. At one time, I was a veterinary doctor in Maralal. Aaaaaahaa! The chic went. Of course an animal doctor's life is not very interesting, so I now tell her how the Samburu exchange wives by merely planting a spear on the doorway (I am sure you have all heard that one). The samburu even offered me a 'concubine'!
Eyes open wide in shock. Just what I anticipated. I am in high gear.

First, she does not believe me. Says I hardly look like a vet. I don a most serious face, stroke my beard, add bass to my voice and go an octave lower. I drop a few things I have learnt from watching my old man rearing his cows. A few hints here and there about UoN, Lower Kabete,...she buys it.

She is entranced. The questions are not stopping. She now wants to know whether I took the concubine, what happened after that etc. Three hours of pure lies. I am getting such a rush.
I have been other things too. Makanga, drop-out, divorced ........

Now that is not normal. Just transforming from my usual boring self to something else, gives me a lot of thrill. Of course, after delivering such a discourse, it is not possible to follow up. I just throw her number and move on. But I am usually happy to engage a lady in conversation for a short time.

After all, the real relationship thing is scary.

doing great

I am going to take liberty and comment on recent events that have to do with Samborera.

I think the guy moved too fast. He met the lady in the morning and passed by the office at lunchtime. I must have read somewhere that this kind of thing scares women a bit. And probably the reluctance to give out her number. Consequently, the man is feeling a bit low.

In my estimation, chances are not too dented. Time for the cool and levelness to kick in, after all, the hardest part (making the first move) is already done.

Don't waver. This is a difficult game.

Good Morning Friday. I am on leave next week. I am going to buy a DVD player tomorrow, watch countless movies.
What's the plan today? (Not too early to ask)

Throw in the towel?

I've been in a battle of sorts and as I sit in the corner awaiting round 4 of this bout, I'm thinking about throwing in the towel. This probably has to do with the fact that I've had a myriad of bugs thrown at me all over sudden and I'm feeling a bit demoralised. My confidence is waning. My sureness of purpose slipping away. That and the fact that she mentioned that she doesn't like being rude while not giving me her number are tormenting me.

Do I have a chance. Even just to sit and have a drink with her. I don't know. What I do know is that I will need lots of patience and endurace to accept the outcome of rounds ahead, good or difficult as they may be.

Round 3 - The first time

Firsts are typically nerve racking, so it's a good thing I've had my hands full all morning fixing bugs.

The reminder on my phone went off and I realised I had to dash out, not even having had lunch. I guess I can always eat tomorrow.

So I rushed down the street where I work, searching out the gorgeous lady's work place. She hadn't lied about it. Why would she. She's a goddess. She has no need to lie. She's confident in herself. She knows she's beautiful. I like that in a person. She's not vain or remotely arrogant. Just confident and composed.

I walk in to an open plan type office and almost immediately see her, but she's with a client. I'm immediately aware that I can't talk to her much today, cause the client doesn't seem to be in a hurry to leave. Why would he? Any red-blooded guy would just want to be next to her. Indeed any creature with any kind of blood would.

I talk to some guy who asks me to wait. After a while, she turns towards me, having seen me come in and wait. She can't talk right now. She's doing something after work, and no she doesn't give out her number on the first day. Yeah. All this time I'm nodding my head profusely, almost apologising.

I leave her office and walk back to mine, to my computer and my bugs. My days is still as bright and lovely as ever, having done something I wanted to do today.

Round 4 awaits.

Round 2 - I did it!

Yes fellas. I did it.

I stopped a gorgeous woman on the street and asked her to marry me. OK. I didn't exactly ask her to be my wife but the first part of this mission being accomplished was enough to put a huge smile on my face. There I go again, as the memory of the rendezvous rushes back to my mind.

I took a diversion from my usual morning route to the office just so that I could intercept her. [One lesson I've learnt today is 'follow your instinct']. It paid off and I bumped into her. I almost didn't stop her though as I saw her just as I was turning a corner and she had just about passed me. The longing I have been feeling the past 24 or so hours couldn't let het go this time. I hesitated for a brief moment, then boom!

Immediately I stopped her, there was a bit of apprehension on her face. It seemed like she was looking for an escape route but couldn't quite find one. I don't know what changed, but as soon as I started telling her how gorgeous I thought she was, she instantly mellowed and relaxed. Maybe it was because she saw that as the quickest way to get rid of me, or found it absolutely hilarious that a guy could actually do such an insane thing. Most likely it's the latter because she actually told me where she works.

Round 3 is schedules for about 1400 today.

looking

Is it today that I said there was a place people are getting beautiful women? Well, that is proving to be true.

Got to start looking too. I will settle for an ordinary one since the beautiful ones are hard coming by. Anyone hook me up? I have tried - unsuccessfully.

a blast

Last night was a total knock-out. I don't understand why a person would want to make a monumental fool of him/her self by trying to "sing". It was hilarious. I have never been to any of these Karaoke events before. You feel actual pain (in the ears) as song after song is murdered.
But then again that's me. These people are brave, they like what they do and they have fun. The same cannot be said of me.

There must be a place where people are getting very beautiful women.
Alas. Michael was in the company of one hell of a looker.

Round 1

I met her again today ... More like saw her briefly. The anticipation was there and just as I was about to get to work, having given up on bumping into her today, boom!

I spotted her tall figure walking gracefully by. I was on the other side of the pavement and for a moment thought of jumping across right in her path. Thankfully, my mind overcame my heart and the urge to do a crouching tiger hidden dragon move was quenched.

That was round one. I live to see another day. I don't know when but I'll be keeping my eyes peeled.


PS: Kamikaze, set word verification for comments on this blog so that robots don't have a field day.

Firsts.....

Feen-ess. That is why I prefer written English. With spoken English, I am not quite so sure. My Laikipia roots start showing. Feen-ess, is the phonetic equivalent of finesse. But by applying the theory of generalization to pronouncing words (rather then remembering that English does not know whether it wants to become French or Latin), I proceeded to say 'Fain-ess' (you know Fine- Fain, finesse-Fain-ess), and was promptly educated by a true Nairobi blue-blood.
You live and you learn.

Sober men. Nothing particularly wrong with that. When was the last time you offered to buy someone (who drinks) a beer and were threatened with grievous harm? That is off the normal chart of life events and experiences.

Its Wednesday. Its all downhill from here.

To flirt or not to flirt

It's becoming a theme, this replaying of the reknowned shakespearian question. [Never mind the grammar] The amorous slant of my recent posts should not be interpreted to mean anything, other than the fact that I've recently experienced strong urges to flirt. Not even sexy flirting but more like 'just talking to girls'. I went as far as giving a married woman my cell phone number one evening ... and actually expecting her to call. Thankfully she didn't, because later the next morning, I started sweating over what I would do if she did.

I have acquired several numbers, and at least one of these chics [who I met on a dance floor], told me she had a boyfried and nothing would ever happen between us.

Where am I going with all this. Recently, I extended this trend to the wonderful world of the web. Came across some chics profile on Graduates.com and sent her an email. [She had a photo of some jamaican woman on her profile. Need I say more]

So, she replies. And after a few emails back and forth, she suggests we IM. I don't chat with anyone but I now find myself using my hotmail/msn account [I hate hotmail/msn] to chat with her. So far, so innocent.

I intend to keep it that way, lest I end up in a situation where I'm clueless as to what to do next.

Something to look forward to

I have been known to do some outrageous things in the recent past, and stopping a woman walking down the street will be another one.

The only set back I can envision is the probably lust that will fill my eyes on seeins her. Women are scared of that 'hungry' look so I guess I'll have to do some meditation exercises before the D-day.

To stop her or not to stop her

There's this absolutely gorgeous woman that I've had the pleasure of walking past on a couple of occasions on my way to work [I'm aware of how lame that sounds].

I had the same pleasure today and got to thinking what I would lose if I just stopped her and said something, anything. The other thought that went through my mind was that 'If she's this gorgoeus, she must have all the guys at her office all over her, and if not, she must have all males wherever she goes after her. Then what chance do I stand'

So guys, should you stop a gorgeous woman walking down the street. Is this 'allowed'. And what, pray tell, do you tell her when you do.

stop her!

I generously offer advice that I hardly heed myself. Samborera, stop her. Say the first thing that comes to your mind (easier said).
I have done this once, in 1998. The results were marvellous. I think the whole universe was in total sync. She proceeded to become my girlfriend for the next 9 months.

How did I achieve that feat? I was so stressed (CPA Financial Accounting,..) and I had taken an undiluted clear liquid that was certainly not water.


[PS:] Do not allow comments on your posts guys. I think there are robots who have hooked onto this blog. Damn shame.

peace, quiet and a long life

Girls are wired quite differently from the Boys. A 'bad boy' falls within certain parameters in terms of behaviour (we are excluding criminal tendencies here). Not quite so with the girls. To me it seems there is an agreed norm as to what a 'bad' girl is; this is true to a certain extent. There is a great variation, from one girl to another, at least in my limited experience.

Have you ever met these intelligent types, very good company, calm and collected. Very fun to be with, minutes drag out to hours when she is not around. Then there are the drop dead gorgeous kind (these I only admire from far ...). They make blood run around at hurricane speeds. Hormones rage, and the dick acquires a life of its own,...

Since we are wired differently from the girls, a 'bad' girl is only good if you are in it for the fu(n/ck). I would advise the girls the same if only they could listen. Falling for a bad girl will lead to a disaster. You might not only lose staggering amounts of money, but your head as well.
Let me qualify 'Falling'. Falling is liking, or getting fond of. It's a one way trail that leads to a hell called 'Love' (of the romantic kind). This 'Love', is a delusional, disturbing state of mind. The mind being yours, and not the girl's.

Bad Girls

Seeing as girls like bad boys, one would think that boys like bad girls. Well. They do. But many are afraid to admit that they can't handle most bad girls. [I know I can't. I fantasize about all sorts of bad girls all the time, but run for dear life when I have a chance with a real bad girl]

So. Are bad girls good for us? I don't know, and since I don't own a car, I am not likely to be finding out soon.

changing gears

'Bad' guys are not usually born, they are made. It seems someone has handled the rough end of the knife. But as good guys disappear, more good guys feed into the cycle.
In the recent past, we have seen a tremendous increase in 'Bad' girls. I don't know if the same rules apply to them.

My next project, gentlemen, is to get a car. A wholly irrational idea. A wholly rational idea. The means of getting the car are irrelevant at this point, which actually means I can ill afford to buy a car.
Irrational, because some voice tells me that a prudent person ought to start looking out for his future now, and the idea of some car does not help very much towards that end.

Rational, because I need a life. I need to have absolute fun. I need to have that fun NOW. I have this great fear of looking back at my life and conclude that it was a sad life (in the same breath, I like to think that I will have a future, so that I can reflect on the past...sounds fucked up. It is).
When I say I need a life, I mean that I want women. Not a woman, no, women. And I don't want to work hard to get them (was never good in poetry anyway...).

And the quickest, most proven way to get them is to first get yourself a car. I see it everyday. Look around. My workplace is teeming with young beautiful chics. There are some stable married men who are having a field day. A vulture's feast. There is zero chance for poor 0.5. The 'transfer market' has been totally polluted. All these guys have to recommend them is some alloy rimmed import from Japan or Dubai. You should see them, hanging around the office long after 5.00 PM just to catch a 'ride' with some guy. They say if you place a fox in a chicken house, the fox cannot help having chicken for dinner everytime.

If I have a car, na miaka yangu hii, I will the baddest man in Nairobi.

A car it is. I need a drink.

No more Mr. Nice Guy

As usual, life has been teaching me lots of interesting things. I find these epiphanies extremely profound even though I sometimes feel like I'm the last to learn of these great truths.

What do women want? I'm sure any male who's been through a few put-downs has asked himself this question. If you haven't had the opportunity, then it's time to try another way of life other than being a hermit.

Here's what women DON'T want [in a man that is]. They don't want a weak, wishy-washy, girlie guy. This is not so much about physique as it is about general mannerisms. That's why they like 'bad boys'. Nice guys who cry just don't do it for them.

Let's toast the nice guys ... there'll be one less today.

The resurrection ...

It's been eons since I last posted [and since I used such an esoteric word]. I will not go on and on about my hiatus from the blogosphere, but I got some inspiration today from a couple of other blogger communities. That and the fact that I don't have enormous amounts of work to do in the usual unrealistic time scales.

Last time I checked this spot, there hadn't been a post in weeks, and I assumed that this blog had gone bad way before it's expiry date.

I'm back, to rant and rave and do all those things that I'm afraid of doing in the glaring light that is the real world.