“So you enjoy doing what you do?” I asked.
I was seated on the couch while chatting. No, I was first seated then I had to lie down to take in the impact of I was reading from my WhatsApp chats. It’s long since I was online for that duration of time. We had been chatting for two hours. Imagine a grown ass man like me, chatting for two hours on WhatsApp. You’d think I am chatting with my crush if you were to judge from how long I sat and lied on the couch just poking and scrolling through the screen. Well, luckily it wasn’t my crush. I am sorry if that doesn’t confirm whether I have a crush currently or not if you’re really curious. Some things are sweet when they remain in their mystery stature. If you were to judge by my facial expressions throughout the chat, you might say I was watching blue movies. You wish! But anyway, if whatever was keeping me online was to be acted, it would be no different from the blue movies you all have watched in one way or another. (Hehe.)
She is the type that hides both grey ticks and blue ticks. You can never know whether and when she has read your message. Who does that? See what WhatsApp GB has brought us; the opportunity to hide behind reality and away from transparency. The perfect avenue to cheat if you are the cheating type. Not to say that if you use WhatsApp GB you’re a cheater. But come to think of it, are you? Because this chat buddy I have is one hell of a cheater and a player, a cold blooded one. See cheaters have some heart. The essence of cheating, just as mentioned earlier is the mystery. There lies its sweetness. Don’t mind how Mjango knows these things. But when you get caught, that is where sugar turns into pepper. Why? Because it is not a mystery anymore. Ask anyone who cheated and got caught. Especially when they are not sober for the best results. They will confess that it was sweet when it was still a secret. Ask why they didn’t want their spouses or partners to know and they will say, “I didn’t want to break her heart,” or “I didn’t want to break his heart.” I hope you don’t have in mind that men are the only ones capable of cheating. Because you are just about to be proved terribly wrong. Maybe you will even be heartbroken. In fact I hope you get heartbroken. Yes men began the unfair game of cheating. But it has become considerably fair because now women do cheat even ways worse than men have. I guess it’s true that what a man can do, a woman can do better.
That is humane. The fact that you wouldn’t want your partner to find out about your affair already shows that you have some heart. But I found one whose humane levels have fallen so low that they drag on the ground with sparks like metal. Come to think of it, this one is not even a cheater. We will find a crown that fits her. Cheater is just too small.
“Yes, I have no shame in what I do. I do it for myself as long as it makes me happy and I get what and who I want.” She replies after three minutes. She replies in intervals of either three minutes or six minutes. Whenever she takes time to reply, I’d sneak in to her Instagram account and glare, maybe curse once or twice but mostly glare in shock. She has been on Instagram for barely a month and she has stormed through stories and captions with what pictures I wouldn’t want my daughter to see if I had one. I have met her a number of times and she walks like she runs the town like Rango in the animation.
I sat up and switched off my data. I had had enough of that. I couldn’t help but think of how we’ve hind kicked the things that make us human. And the things that should bring us real happiness. Now all we care about is ourselves just like Lydia.
“Why is everyone talking ill about you?” I began even though her last seen dated back to 00.54 on 13th January 2018.
After a laughing emoji she says, “Thought you’d be too afraid to ask.” Adds an emoji that I interpret as an ‘Are you sure you’re really asking that?’ emoji.
“I think it’s better to hear from the horse’s mouth about what the horse does when everyone else is not looking.” I say while feeling like I got her there.
“If horses could speak, they’d tell you.” She replies with no emoji to console her flat reception of sarcasm and idiomatic expressions. So she wants me to hit the nail on the head huh? Oh, another idiom she won’t get when she reads this. Ah! It’s not my fault she is too beautiful to get such things.
Someone once heard me comment while saying that a beautiful woman without brains and manners is the greatest disaster that has ever existed under the sun. The ‘someone’ is a she. She got offended. I got offended too. Because she got offended by what I said. I got offended because she thought I was making reference to her. I was not. But I was more offended than her because, well, she got offended about a statement that was meant for the beautiful meaning she counts herself among them. I begged to differ. But who would I be begging anyway. So sad that some mjangos still say, best put in Swahili: “Huwezi badilisha sura lakini unaeza badilisha tabia.”
“Okay fine. Lydia, since you want me to come out clean, then I will. Only because you’re my friend, just graduated from an acquaintance. Having the wrong perception about you is that last thing I’d want to do to people in my friends’ zone.” I said. I reread my sent messages to ensure auto correct doesn’t insult on my behalf.
“Mmmm!…” After waiting for six minutes, all she sends is just four letters that I’m supposed to read as?
“Here goes. There are claims you have been hunting boys who are boyfriends of other girls. Some girls are your friends. Could you tell me about that?”
Three minutes and serious faced emojis later, “You have really been listening to crap eh? Well okay, yea. But as soon as I spot I guy I like, I don’t care whether he belongs to some other chic or what. I will do anything to get him.”
I guess this is the part I went from sitting to lying on the couch.
“And how do you do that?” I asked.
“Any way I can and want to. I DM him on Instagram if that is where I saw him from. Or if I see him with my own eyes and fall for him, I’d DM him if I know he is on Instagram.” She says. I would really want to see the look on her face as she texted that.
“What would you tell him now? I mean, last time I checked, men make moves on the ladies and not vice versa.”
Laughs, “What are you saying? When we started wearing trousers like you people you should have known we were not going to stop at that! You think you’re the only ones who have the balls to call the shots in life…” I took a breathing break here hoping the rest of the message doesn’t say that she also has balls. “… Now in case you don’t realise it yet, we got balls too. Bigger ones by the way!” Okay she couldn’t help it. Who wants to see a girl with balls? Because I don’t.
“Okay, teach me the new way of doing it girl,” I say, half astonished and half terrified.
“I can’t think of any boy that has resisted me. If so, he didn’t go without a fight.”
“What do you mean a fight?”
She took long to reply this one.
“I lure him to sex. It’s what all you men want anyway.” She says. I could feel the pride in her tone.
Who am I to rebuke her? She has heard it being said that not all men are the same enough times. Besides, I want to hear more.
“You sleep with boys despite their relationship status?”
“What’s the big deal there?” She goes on to mention the boys she has lured to bed. Some I know. Some are boyfriends to girls I know. Some are husbands. Maybe she thinks that I wasn’t shocked. I just didn’t show her. The show head to continue.
I say, “Well then I guess the claims from girls that you seduced their boys in the club are not hate speeches.”
“I am even glad they know. And I am more glad that their boys see and appreciate what I have that their girls do not. They would die to have them in fact,” She is talking about the light skin, a pretty face and powerful posterior. Trust me, it is really one hell of a posterior. Mjangos we have to agree on that one. “You can see that too right?” She asks.
Now I had to take six minutes to reply that. Anything I say can and will be used against me in a court of law. I remembered that and merely said, “Go on…”
“So I give boys what they want, as long as I have them in the end. Especially some guy. I told her girlfriend that by next semester she should say goodbye to her cute boyfriend. And that’s a fact. He is going to leave her for me.
I paused and replayed that in my mind. She gives boys what they want… There’s a theory that men have that is related to that statement. It explains how posteriors are magnified without plastic surgery. That is only for the elite to decipher.
She seemed to notice I was taking some time to reply, “Are we done here?”
“Yes I think we are. At least they are not rumours and gossips anymore.” I said.
I pity the girls that become victims of this cold endeavour. Given up to love one man only for him to get snatched like the way an eagle snatches a chick with no sweat. I pity the boys that fall for her deception and selfishness. The greatest tragedy after a beautiful woman with a peanut brain and slutty manners is a man who is deceived through seduction and follows after lust. Oh! Wait! I heard you still say all men are dogs? Aha? Ooh! Okay, think again. If they are dogs then this proves there is a new breed of dogs now. This new breed seems to be more vicious and venomous. But fact remains, they just followed the lead that men showed them, like they were created to. It’s just a cold world.
“So you enjoy doing what you do?” I asked.