I’ve been single for two weeks, five days, eight hours and three minutes. Technically, I’m the newest member of the Bachelor’s Club. A mono. A complete freshman. I’m still trying to get the gist of it all and I must say, life is life. It’s an onion; an endless layer of demons and angels. It’s a mixture of beauty and ugly. Yin and yang. Light and darkness. Thorns, some more spikes, then comes the fresh crimson roses. Sometimes, it’s the thorns that appeal to me more. So I constantly follow my trail of thorns. Every once in a while, the thorn crumbs lead me to a place of magic. I call them beautiful accidents! This time round, my breakup led me to this incredible conversation.

Last week on Wednesday, my cousin (well practically my big sister) was in her room packing. Her two-week leave was to end on Saturday (she works in Doha). So she booked a 10 AM Saturday flight, so as to arrive in time and chill before the pressures of work commenced on Sunday. I walked in on her unloading her shopping and arranging them in her suitcase.

“Hey,” I said leaning against the frame of her bedroom door.

“Hey.”

I took a minute just observing her pack. Trying different angles of arrangement, seeking to fit her shopping.

“Why go through all that trouble yet you could just shop in Doha?” I asked.

“The ones in Doha are not that good.”

She had two packets of maize flour, a packet of wheat flour and like six or something packets of Pick N’ Peel. For the maize and wheat flour, I understood why she had to buy them here. White people don’t know ugali and chapati. Some Africans as well; like the ones in Java who serve you ugali that has been cut into rings then accompany it with cutlery. How do you even eat ugali using a knife and fork? It’s like drinking tea with a straw. Eat African meals the African way, and foreign meals the foreign way. Uphold and take pride in your culture; no one else will. Love that ugali. Squeeze and hold it tight. Make that small hole with your thumb while you squeeze it then scoop that stew and down your throat let it float.

“Tumetoka mbali,” she chuckled. “Look at this set of melanin’s,” she handed me some old Polaroid photos of her as a kid. Then I saw some more recent Polaroids of her and her boyfriend, taken during their trip to the coast.

“You guys have a perfect relationship,” I mumbled, riffling through the photos.

“We have our bad days.”

“How long have you guys been together.”

“Um, it’s been three years now.”

“Three? Mine never go past a year. Some as fleeting as a month,” I laughed. Not because what I said was funny or something to be proud of. But just that laughing at my folly, brings back my jolly. I make the driest and darkest of jokes and have the heartiest of laughs. I guess that’s the point. The drier the joke, the more efficient it will be at drying my uncried tears.

“What’s your ideal man like.” I asked.

“Responsible. He has to be intentional about what he does. A guy with misplaced priorities is a complete turn off. As a man, he should learn to get his priorities straight. Deal with the more urgent stuff first; just prioritize your life. Make time for me as your girl, make time for your family, make time for your work and friends. Not just your friends all the time. Prioritize, and learn to be independent when making decisions; don’t let friends think for you. Then he should be a father figure. I need to know our children will be safe in his hands. I need to know our son will have a male figure worth emulating. Then there are aspects like loyalty, honesty, such kind of things. That’s what I look for majorly in a man.”

Now, I’ve asked so many ladies that question. What’s your ideal man like? Their answers usually start with – He should be… Then a long list of irreducible minimums follow; tall, handsome, built, funny, etc. etc. They are majorly and usually centered around the physique of the man.

“A man’s physical appearance doesn’t matter to you?” I asked, just to set the record straight.

“Absolutely not,” she said with finality.

“Wait, really? Okay. If you meet a man who’s really really really bad-looking, and by bad-looking I mean ugly; no form of physical attraction at all. But, he has all the attributes you look for in a man, would you date him?”

“As long as he makes me happy, I would. Girls your age look for what you’re talking about; a tall, dark and handsome guy. But, a woman who’s into a more serious relationship, one leading to marriage, hardly worries about such trivial things.”

“So you really don’t care about how a man looks. You don’t want a tall, cute guy?” I asked as if she hadn’t answered me already. Could it be that the qualities that I’ve been bragging about for years really not count in the long run? I needed to get that clarified. At least a little. Wanted her to admit that she would date a guy because of his smile, his eyes, his abs, or even nose. At least something!

“Joe, will I eat his height? Will his cute face raise our children?” She asked then proceeded to stare at me. I thought it was a rhetorical question. Rhetorical questions should not be answered. But no, she expected an answer.

“It’s easy for you to say that because your boyfriend is handsome,” I said.

She laughed. I was behaving like a kid.

“I wish you saw my ex,” she said amidst her laughter.

“Who, Neville?”

“No. Neville was a model. Tony. I wish you saw Tony. He wasn’t as physically appealing yet I dated him.”

“Why did you,” I asked as if it was a crime to.

“He had everything I needed. He was kind, responsible, hardworking, God-fearing, basically everything I told you earlier.”

“So why are you guys not dating anymore?”

“Hmm,” she paused, “life happened,” she said.

“Wanna talk about it?” I’m always cautious of refreshing healed wounds.

“Yeah, it’s fine. Why don’t you sit here?” I had been standing by the door this whole time. I proceeded to sit on her bed.

“I met him while I was working at KQ. It was in 2013, you were in high school by then.” (She had to remind me of how ‘old’ I am). “I met him through a mutual friend, who was so into him but apparently he was not. So, one day he called me. Wanted us to meet for a meal in town. He was a good guy, so I accepted. By then, I was living with aunt in Nyayo Estate. So I had to seek her permission before anything else. I’m always straightforward so I just told her the truth; that a guy had asked me out.”

“She accepted?”

“Yes. So I met up with him. After talking for a while, he told me that he liked me. He looked like he meant it. Well, I told him I didn’t like the idea. Grace would have been so pissed off because she already was into him. I didn’t want to get in between. You know how crazy a girl can get when in love.”

I wanted to say – No I don’t, but then I remembered how my ex in my freshman year took away my laptop battery and charger then left the laptop there. Cold and alone. Battery-less and charger-less.

“But he was a gentleman,” she continued, “so he didn’t force it. He instead, asked if we could just meet and hang out once in while. I told him I had to ask Grace first just so there’s no bad blood. So I later on asked Grace and she was cool. So for the next few weeks, he used to come and pick me from Nyayo Estate and we would jav to town and just have fun. He made me laugh. A lot! We would go eat in a kibanda, jav from this place to that place, just generally have fun! He made me happy.”

“What does jav mean,” I asked.

“Jav is using a mat to travel. It’s different from using an uber or taxi.”

“Ah, okay.”

“Yeah so, whenever I would tell Grace about my expeditions with Tony, she would always act so surprised.”

“Surprised?” I expected angry, or jealous.

“Yeah. So surprised like she would ask me, “Tony took you to eat in a kibanda? You guys jav to town?” Such kind of questions. I never really bothered to find out why she acted so surprised, but I found out why before long.”

“What happened,” I asked.

“There was this day I was to buy a phone. I had saved up like 3k, and he told me he had like 1500, so we could combine and get a good phone. As usual, he was to come pick me then we jav. When he arrived, he called me. So si me I went downstairs. I looked around but couldn’t see him. I called him. I’m here, he insisted. I was starting to get pissed. I called and told him I would go back to the house and not get out. I’m literally outside your gate. Look keenly – he pressed on. I looked. Joe I couldn’t see him. But then, there was a car packed outside. When I looked closely, I saw him inside. Actually on the driver’s seat. Hapa ndio ujinga yako imekufikisha? I asked him. I knew him to be a wacko, but this was too much. How do you just get into someone’s car like that. How did he even get in? I told him to get out before the owner found him there, but he insisted I get in. No Tony, get out – I insisted. He went on to explain that the car was his aunt’s; He was living with his aunt by then. So yeah, at least he wasn’t jacking someone else’s car,” she laughed, “I got in and we drove off.”

“How did that make you understand Monica’s surprise?” I jumped the gun.

“Relax. He told me that he had to pick something from his friend in South B before we proceeded to go buy my phone. I consented. When we got to South B, the watchmen at the gate saluted him calling him mkubwa. I wondered why they’d do that. Anyway, maybe he visited his friend so frequently that the guards got to know him, or maybe the guards just call everyone driving mkubwa. So I let it slide. We then get to his friend’s place and he asks me to go in with him. Thought you told me you’re just picking something then we go – I asked. He told me that we won’t take long, so I got in with him. That’s when things started getting strange.”

“How.”

“When we got into the house, three house helps came to receive us at the door. One took my jacket, the other showed me where to sit, and the other offered me a drink.”

“Where was Tony at this time.”

“He went upstairs. Stayed for quite a while, probably talking to his friend. Then he came back downstairs completely changed! He had fresh clothes on, new shiny shoes, he basically was a different person! Joe have you ever been shocked?”

“Uh…” I was trying to seek what to answer, this that she likes her rhetorical questions answered.

“He came straight to me, went down on one knee, then offered me a promise ring.”

“What’s a promise ring.”

“It’s just that, a promise ring. You make a promise to remain loyal and faithful to each other. If you’re a virgin, you promise to remain pure till marriage, and if you’re not, you promise to remain intimate with him and him only. It’s more or less the same as an engagement ring. But different per se.”

“Okay. So you said yes or…”

“I was still shocked and confused. I literally couldn’t understand what was going on. I didn’t even know him anymore. Was his name even Tony? Why did he have to hide the fact that he was rich? I felt betrayed. I got so angry. Like how many more lies had he told me?”

The awkward moment was there again. I contemplated giving her random guesses like, Two. I think two more lies.

“He went on to explain why he had to do what he did. Explained how most women always want to date him because of his social status. He basically wanted to find out if I was the right woman for him, if I was for real. So what have you found out? I asked. You are – he said. Remember all this time, the helps are there.”

“So you guys started dating?”

“Yeah. Grace was cool about it. Time flew. Our love grew. We had the most amazing times! He came home and met mum, we went to church together, created some of the most beautiful memories, we were just generally happy.”

“Can imagine,” her words drew mental pictures in my mind.

“He trusted me a lot as well. A notable instance is when he took me to all his bank accounts; Diamond Trust, KCB, name them. Then, get this, changed all his passwords to my name. Like it got engraved and all. After that, he took me to his safe. I never even knew Kenyans have safes. When he opened the safe,” she paused, her hand covering her mouth, eyes fixated on the floor, “Joe umewai ona pesa?” She looked at me. “Guys have money out here. I was shocked! I even got scared now. I demanded to know where he got all that money from because that was now insane. Especially for a twenty-nine year old!”

“Why? He had a room full of money or what.”

“Not really. It was in a wall, covered by some art painting on the outside. It’s just like the ones you see in movies. This guy not only had stacks of cash in that safe, but also jewelry. And by jewelry, I’m talking gold. He is rich! He is into real estate. Few months into the relationship, he bought me a house in Kileleshwa and a car, Mark X.”

“Why did you guys break up?” I reiterated the question that started this whole conversation. I mean, what would make a girl get out of such a relationship? Wealth notwithstanding, Tony was a man of character and values. A great man (as Roselyn describes him). Personally, I would have stayed no matter what! I mean, split and go where?

“Our relationship hit a bump when it came time for me to go to work. He helped me through the application process completely oblivious to the fact that I’d be based in Qatar. So the day I informed him, he just changed. By then I was staying with him. He didn’t eat that night, and went to work the following morning without uttering a word to me. So later on, I contacted him and told him if he continued acting out the way he was, I’d pack and move back to mum’s house. He was back home in ten minutes,” she chortled. “I just don’t want to lose you – I remember him pleading with me. He even went ahead and offered to be depositing the same salary I’d be paid in Qatar to my bank account at the end of every month, just as long as I stayed with him. I said no. Nothing’s ever promised tomorrow today. What if something happened and he lost all his money? What happens then? But even with all that explanation, he would hear none of it. He just felt like he’d lose me. Anyway, I talked to his older sister and explained it to her. She later went and talked some sense into him. If you were asked to drop all you’re doing right now in Kenya and go live with Rossy in Qatar, would you? Put yourself in her shoes. This is something she’s always wanted to do, it’s something that makes her happy. If there’s someone who should be supporting her right now, it’s you – she told him.”

“Did he change his mind?” I asked.

“He did. He even helped me prepare. However, before I travelled, he gave me yet another promise ring. Promising to not get intimate with any other person. Same case for him as well.”

“Why? Was he usually an insecure guy?”

“Not really. When you find something you love, you wouldn’t want to lose it. Especially when you see it just slip through your fingers. He told me how the thought of coming back from work and meeting me home always made him look forward to getting home. Now, the house would just feel empty.”

Roselyn travelled, but they kept in touch and talked every now and then. One day, just a few days before she flew back to Kenya, Tony called. He had done the unthinkable! He was shaking! His voice was tensed and clothed in anxiety. He confessed that he had gotten drunk the previous night. They had promised each other to never drink alcohol unless they were together. How could he break that promise? Why did he betray their love like that? Why? (No, I’m just messing with you). On the real though, he confessed to having drunk a little bit too much the previous night. Consequently, he ended up sleeping with another woman. He told Rose that he was really sorry and that he didn’t know what he was doing.

“I was pissed!” She said. “I mean, he’s the one who even bought the promise rings. Now this?”

“You know he had the option of not telling you, right?”

“Yeah but still. I mean, I had kept my side of the promise. Why couldn’t he? I couldn’t buy the excuse of him blaming it on the alcohol.”

“How did you handle it?” I asked.

“Well, as you said, he had the option of not telling me, yet he did. Maybe he was sincerely sorry. So I gave him one more chance, but obviously it took time for me to fully trust him again. Anyway, I flew back to Kenya and we spent time together, but it didn’t last long.”

“What happened.”

“The woman called.”

“And?”

“She was pregnant. That was a deal breaker for me. I cannot get in the way of a child. The child’s innocent, and I wouldn’t want him to grow up without a father because of me. So, I had to call it quits. It really was a trying moment. He was devastated! Men cry. He stopped going to work, stopped talking to people, tried to beg me to stay, his family the same, but I had made up my mind.”

“Sounds like the breakup was easier for you than it was for him,” I smiled.

“Eh! Not at all. The rebounds that I had,” she laughed.

“But still, you could have just dated him, then he and the other woman be co-parents.”

“That’s not my idea of marriage. And like I told you, women can go to extremes just to keep a man. I wouldn’t want to put my life at risk like that.”

“Do you think it was actually the alcohol or he was secretly into her,” some people claim that; what alcohol does, is free you to do the things you’ve always wanted to do. That’s why some men find it easier to approach women when they’re high. Just a theory, haven’t confirmed it yet.

“I don’t know. He said the woman trapped him, his friend echoed the same. Maybe he was drugged, who knows? Nobody will ever know what really happened that night.”

“So they’re together now?”

“Something of the sort. He bought her a house at the coast. But even as we speak, he still contacts me. Still wants to make things right. He claims to not love the woman. Some of my friends tell me to say yes to him and at least get that financial security but, I’m not that kind of girl.”

“Hmm,” I never knew a man could be that much attached to a woman.

“Anyway, that’s life. Sometimes you just have to move on,” she said.

We went on and talked a little bit more about other things like why a man should establish himself first before seeking to get into a relationship, why some women cannot date men who earn less than they, why it’s important to always live in the moment and so much more. (That sounded like DSTV, haha. I know you’ve missed the joke.)

“By the way, what happened to the house and car he bought you?” I asked.

“I gave them back. And three times he returned the keys and title-deed back to mum’s house. But I took them back again.”

“Aii. Why did you? Si you would have given them to me?”

She laughed.

“If I did, I would have been reminded of him every time I came to visit you.”

It was now in the early hours of the night. Dinner was almost ready and she had to finish off packing. As I was laying in bed, thinking of what title to give this story, Broke In A Bentley nibbled away at my mind. Tony is rich, but broken. Gold glitters in his safe, he drives Porsche cars and slams Bentley doors. He has three house helps yet feels alone. Has a baby mama yet still has nothing to look forward to when he comes home. He lost the only thing that brought meaning to his life, I think. The girl who comfortably ate with him in a kibanda. The girl who made him feel like a child again when he laid his head on her laps, and laughed the night away. He lost her. Because of one silly mistake. Being in the wrong place at the wrong time. It’s funny how a single mistake can change the whole trajectory of your life. Told you life can be crazy. Life can be insane. Sometimes it gives you no second chances. No clean slates. Life can at times be a big sick joke. Or not. The choice is yours…