An open letter to Kenyan lesbians above forty

What a nerve I have, writing to you this open letter. But I guess this is a good time as any. So let’s have a small tete a tete now shall we?

I am not in your social circles; I am as impoverished as a church mouse. I am too loud, my ways are wayward. I live in my parent’s house. I drink cheap liquor and stagger like a Neanderthal. I am screwed basically.

I get it. I totally do.

Anyone feels exceptional pressure making a conversation with someone who doesn’t want to, but I cannot emphasize to you how important this small talk means to me. Can I call you dear? Dearie? pumpkin? I am not sure I know how you and your girlfriends refer to each other. For the purpose of this blog therefore, I will call you girlfriend. Everyone understands that girlfriend vibe.

Girlfriend, I really need strong quads to write this post. That’s how intimidating you are. You seem like the type that can eat me in one bite, you scare the pants off me for sure. But still, can you do me a huge favor and read till the end? muchísimas gracias. See, I am a cool kid, I even know some bit of Spanish. By the way, they refer to everybody under thirty as kid nowadays. Girlfriend, this is a generation from a different galaxy. Never mind, I am still finding some foundation for a conversation starter.

I completely understand the need for you to remain a mystery. Sometimes I am not sure you exist in Kenya even. Your camouflaging tactics are exemplary good. If I was at your age, perhaps I would also carefully closet my professional lesbian life. Maybe I would have overseas accounts to protect my money just in case the straight tax collectors came investigating my life. Also, there is the young generation to watch out for, they are on your money like white on rice. They think you got your fuchsia lipstick as a freebie, don’t they? Do they even understand how much that shit costs? How early you rise to hassle for those Dolce & Gabbana sunnies you got going? Do they for chrissake understand the pain you endure walking in heels all friggin day cuz you’re a friggin professional? They don’t, these kids. They fill their days instagramming food. Someone with such a habit would most probably not understand.

However, this might also be a negative stereotype. I am a true believer of listening to other people ideas. “If there is any one secret of success, it lies in the ability to get the other person’s point of view and see things from that person’s angle as well as from your own.” Who even had the faintest idea that I could use quotes? I completely blindside you, don’t I now? Those are Henry Ford’s words, girlfriend. Seeing one can get away with basing their arguments on a wise person’s words, don’t you think that we should reach a consensus on how to lead parallel lives?

There is a startling pattern with our lesbian scene. I somehow think it has become the universally accepted principle of living a lesbian life. You disappear into thin smoke after forty. Right girlfriend? What happened to life starts after forty? to sexual liberation.. What happened to sex hormones going amok (I happen to know) at your age? And while at it, what happened to getting a young woman of able kneecaps to fulfill these desires. Don’t get me wrong, I am not trying to get inside your sheets, I know there are very many others of your age where you come from who can perfectly fit inside your sheets.

What I don’t get is, don’t you get bored night after night performing orgies (again, I happen to know) with the same crowd of fifty year olds? I know you don’t give a fat turd about a youth whose moves in bed can only be compared to the speed of a herd of buffalo but guess what? I just want wanna be your bosom buddy. Seriously. It’s okay that you are superparanoid about me, it is even okay that I am just an average Joe and you are right at the top of your hassle but as one would expect of such a simpleton as me, I just want to hang out with your puppies and watch your cable TV. I know that is too much of me to ask.

Girlfriend, what I am trying to get at is that you have been around the block for some time. We could work a way where you would take me under your wings. Lesbian life is fraught with so many problems. We lay it on a foundation of shifting sand. I need your guidance on how to deal with my ex-girlfriends and their late night calls with their was-just-checking-on-you-vibe Please teach me your time standing ways.

You are not my mother. I’m far from suggesting that. You are a fine woman and not a mother figure in the least. That would be rude, calling you a mother considering I read wamama wako ushago in matatus every other time. What about we settle on how to define our relationship. We could do a big sis-lil sis thingie. Or seeing that I could vaccum your rugs for free, why not teach me how to interact with hot women and keep a straight face while at it.
That would come in handy dear girlfriend. The devil attacks me everywhere. Do you wanna hear about my colleague at work? she is too hot she could soft boil an egg. What would you do if you are held hostage and confined with a woman like that every day for eight hours? Tell me how you have managed to stand firm in gainful employment without facing any sexual harassment charges. How now, with all this madness does a woman of flagging spirit like yours truly not follow Lots wife extreme dishonest behavior and get turned to a ball of salt.

Do you even understand what I am saying here or should I enunciate every word for you.That I-need-your-help-because-I am-lost is what I am trying to say. Asking for help is the last stage, right after denial and insomnia and lusting after people’s wives stages. I am doing this with a pained face, my chicken comes injected with steroids and now my body is full of these steroids which give me a very fragile ego. In other very unrelated but imperative news, have you heard that they are now feeding our women with chicken feed? How can a generation be saved my dear girlfriend?

Do you think we should take a break? Me thinks we should. There will be a sequel and a trilogy. Meanwhile, I will go back to my Spanish ways and say chao for now girlfriend. Just for effect.

Hugs and kisses all around

Moving on

 

I should preface this post with intellectual stuff like I lost my writing mojo, writer’s block yada yada. I am not a writer so I won’t say those things. Also, I am not intellectually inclined. I just like women (Go Fig).

This is what; I have been nursing a heartbreak. I should have put that in Broadway 72 to emphasize my point. See, I say things matter-of-factly and I have never known how to perform histrionics.  Say for instance I found a Bugatti Veyron parked in our compound with my name on it, (which sounds blasphemous to Volkswagen peeps) I will just get in the damn car and drive my troubles away. No stripping naked, taking selfies or twerking on it.

I am sure the upper middle class have a name for this, because it is a disorder. Everything is a fucking disorder.

We have mastered the art of doing everything else apart from dealing with heartbreaks. Everyone has to come up with their own coping mechanism. From comfort foods to memorizing every chapter in the Bible.

Hell; we will even go to church and plant the seed of non rejection, get the anointing oil in a bottle and because we are not well versed with these pulpit theatrics, we will drain the oil down our throats and end up looking like Masonic agents in front of the heaven bound congregation.  Very desperate times.

You can never tell with people. There are those who were created to make every day of your living life miserable. You know what, Just suck it.

I have read so many books in the last two months. It is the perfect distraction, my heart is not a strong a muscle. The fact that I feed it with chocolate and pizza most of the time doesn’t help it. A good book alters my life in a way I cannot explain. I will uproot my life and live inside a character’s head as long as the book last. I will put a face to her name and imagine that she was my girlfriend. Full disclosure: I have weird fetishes.  

Frequent readers of this blog really know how to look out for me. I have mentioned before that I am not a bright person. A certain reader took this to mean that I am totally dumb. So she offered to tutor me during my spare time. I am not sure what she had in mind. I am in a frigging university for god’s sake.  I could be studying typing lessons but at least I made it to the list of university goers. Am I cool, or what? It is never that serious guys.

So to stay with the topic in hand boys and girls, a break up is hardly something I feel the need to shout from the rooftops but just like the highly unstable nature of farts, it will always happen to the unexpected of souls and who else to write it better than yours truly?

Heartbreaks are like homing pigeons. They always return. I have coined this phrase to look clever to the reader mentioned above. Predictably, failing miserably. Maybe I should just let her tutor me.

 

Have a peaceful weekend. With the kind of horror Kenya has experienced for the past one week, calmness is all I can pray for you right now. I love every single one of you. 

How my closet door almost got ripped off its hinges

I was thirteen.

At this age, kids are out there learning how to preserve the earth and read their way into becoming top-notch neurosurgeons, but not the 13y/o that was me. I had learnt that there was more to the bees and bird’s story. My whole purpose on earth became the undaunted task of unraveling this mystery and wonderment and I found it from these two girls in high school.

One of them was my best friend whom I had a crush on since day one of my high school life. She was a knock-out. In fact, God had hired her during his last day of creation and he was like, you know what? thy shall possess all the remaining beauty of this creation, because you are sweet as pie, and I am God, I am allowed to do such stuff.

Being the romantic midget that I am, there was no way on earth I was going to confess to her that I could be her kindred spirit plus other benefits too.

Stories have been told about lesbians in high school facing the wrath of expulsion; these become painful memories that follow you for the rest of your life. There are depressing things in a lesbian’s in life which eventually fades away with time, enough determination and maybe expensive therapists. ‘Lesbian behavior’ expulsions is not one of them, they are in a class of their own, no amount of alcohol you pour on them will make these memories go away- – you can blow away the entirety of your income hiring ‘em therapists but eventually, you will meet that bitch from high school on the streets who will oust your ass all over again. Really, high school for you will never end.

These tales made me shudder in fear. Girls were to be watched from a far and no amount of lesbian fantasies would make me touch one. Figuratively speaking, ye perverts of the world.

I should have stuck with this mission and direct my teenage energy into solving complex algorithms but no, this was adrenaline rush for pete’s sake.

During my second term in my second year of high school, all my lesbian alarm bells went off. Lust, wet dreams and other words of the same family came running after me day and night at disconcerting speeds.

You see, I saw the two girls kiss on my way to the dormitory from my night preps. I became unstoppable; oh mercy, I was in deep. I used to have these heart shaped sheets which I preserved to write for my first true love and now the moment was here, and writing I did.  Fancy drawings and heavy Oxford dictionary words were used. I finally stamped it with my signature fragrance, smeared my lips with lipstick and sealed it with a kiss.

The letter made her spine turn to gel.

I think I had a way with words back then, as compared to the present where I have to hit on a woman with 140 freaking characters. The feeling was mutual she said: she had always liked me but somehow figured I was not ‘like that’.

 

The nagging issue was how I was going to dip my toes into the issue that was her current girlfriend. We had to start somewhere, but attempting to enter the world of threesomes was a dicey dive, besides, I never wanted to share her with anyone. Teenage love. We decided to play it cool, I don’t even know what that meant but it was like stealing sugar from the sugar jar and leaving some on your cheeks kind of setting, so she found out eventually.

 

 

 Nothing says you are all fucked up better than an estranged jealous fourteen year old. I will call her Beth (second time I am using this name here). By the way, I am in no way affiliated or bitter with chics called Beth, it’s just the name that comes to mind every time I am doing a post. But was i in her shoes, I would have acted the same way maybe so I don’t blame her now.

 

Beth went ballistic. She started blackmailing me by writing me hate letters and such, but the capper of it all was when she broke into my school locker and found a picture I had taken with Sheryl (yes even her name was a total knockout) in a not so Godly pose. She threatened to take it to the Deputy Principal. I don’t know about Deputy Principals from other schools but the one we had in high school will have her own bunk bed in hell. That woman would literally beat the daylights out of you if she even dreamt that somehow you were about to commit a wrong. 

 

I had to save my ass quick and fast. So in return I asked Sheryl to gather all the notes Beth had written to her and give them to me. She was in love with me too and was willing to do anything to save me now that Beth was entirely and specifically targeting the co-wife, me. I copied all them in my own handwriting (I couldn’t risk giving her the originals since they were my only exhibit) and passed all of them to her and on the envelope, I wrote, sounds familiar? That did it, it gagged her completely.

 

But during Beth’s brouhahas trying to name and shame me, a few girls had gotten wind of our secret (between Sheryl and I) that there might be a thing going on worth of their discovery. That meant that to prove them wrong, we had to cut all ties. It’s an ordeal I would rather not revive, spending each day with Sheryl like she was a complete stranger, craving for her touch; I had even imagined marrying her.

 

It is like your fashionista friend telling you that your favorite pink pants look so terrible on your butt. Now all you can do is hang the goddamn pants in your closet and look at them every day and sob your brains out.

 

Oh, the love story is over.

 

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This is for the lesbians above thirty| a guide.

And it is a difficult post to write because I am not thirty and age is not a topic women do during their pep talks. Lesbians talk about weight loss, calories, nips and tucks, padded bras, sports bras, money, sex, (particularly in that order).

I was having a chat with a lesbian woman above thirty. I won’t disclose her exact age for fear of eerm, I am looking for a very big word…yes that word. You know the one that gets you jailed for five years? Yes that one.
I am always talking about going to prison, in and outside this blog life. I googled this one and found out that there is no official registered fear of going to jail. Really? There seems to be all kinds of phobias and this one was made just for me urgh. There is actually one called vagina dentata; an abnormal fear literally of female genitalia and the vulva.

I don’t know what you live for if you don’t eat pussy.

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Back to the topic in hand, ladies ladies; by this age you have sampled all the lesbians, you compliment strangers on their looks, you have a dozen strapless sun dresses, you have discovered the secret to longevity, you are all outdoorsy and confident, you are deep in your career or whatever you have going on, No?
What I am trying to say is, you have seen it all. You are mature and you don’t give a fuck about who cares or who doesn’t.

HOWEVER, there is the little question of marriage. Okay BIG question of marriage.

When you wear your little strapless sun dresses, I bet many of those times are to attend to your cousins or friends weddings right? And in those weddings there are other married cousins, right? The said cousins have mothers and those mothers are your aunts, and we know they all have a Master’s Degree in biological clock studies, yes?

Now, let me give you some lessons on surviving Aunt’s (let’s call her aunt Beth) blabbermouth. Also, I regret and deeply repent my sins of using the name Beth to all my dear readers who goes by the same name. (There is no single Beth I know, and I trust me I know a lot of women).

Like a skipping CD she gives you a painful headache. She pushes all your mental buttons day after day. She tests your patience, and patience is something we, the lesbian folks weren’t given in abundance. We want to get a quick lay the first time we are in a confined space with our crush, touch and go generation redefined.

You see, Aunt Beth identify herself as ‘motherly’. She tells you all the things your mother won’t tell you. My said friend above told me her aunt even told her how many times a husband expects sex in a day. She also went ahead and told her how to space it out. She had clearly underestimated the motherly power of her aunt. Severely.
They say the first step to helping yourself is admitting you have a problem, but what if your problem is with your Aunt Beth?

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You are a regular woman doing okay in life, you set your goals and fulfill them, you make new year resolutions and stick to them, you drink eight glasses of water a day, you make to do lists and abide by them, you don’t have mismatched socks, no road rage and drunk dialing your first girlfriend who is now married with five kids…you have it all together.

Except the existential crisis that is Aunt Beth. This is the only bugging issue you can’t fix? Is it?
Here is the thing; it is not. Aunt Beth is obsessed over you; Heaven forbid maybe she is a closet lesbian even. Study Aunt Beth carefully; does she spend her days yapping about her husband, his wayward libido and drunken ways? Does she complain about her kids and what a waste they are? Does she seem depressed about anything and everything in her family?

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You are the perfect child she never had. She is just a jealous bitch.

Now, use her family against her. No parent wants to hear about her reckless child from another person.
Don’t be afraid about observing respect and existence of superpowers that can strike you dead the minute you stand her off. I mean, children have been disrespectful to their aunts since 1700BC, Come on!

Tell her that you are okay with yourself and what a true blessing it is. In fact, take this opportunity and come out to her. Tell her you dived into the lesbian world in your formative years and nothing, not even the holy communion wafers can change that. Tell her there is nothing she can change about you and you can only get better and better at loving women.

The fact that she disrespects you to keep reminding you what a disgrace you are because you are husbandless is reason enough to make you say to her categorically and equivocally that you know her whole marriage is a scam and a sham. It is like those newspaper lifestyle features you read and know for sure they can’t be real. The journalist is just interviewing her friends and passing it off as a trend. You won’t and can’t get into the marriage thingie with a hubby to please anyone.

You see where I am getting with this? Great! Now start practising it in front of your TV.

Come back and tell me how it goes when the face off happens. You can’t plagiarize my work like that and refuse to give me credit for it 😀

How to tell if a Kenyan girl is a lesbian

Hey Kittens 😀

So you are a lady and there is this other lady turning you to mush but you are not sure whether it is your gaydar or your dry spell thirst…

This is that blog where hunting girls is always on open season and in as long as I live, you will never walk alone. Imma do this the Kenyan way, and I am doing my own character assassination. So if she owns or does one or all of the listed below thingies, go ahead and shag that girl.

You might however consider taking a bit of some advice; a straight girl might be of the same character as the undermentioned. Don’t go holding someone’s wife titties or you will go to prison. You are better off jerking off at home than getting raped at Langata Women Prison. I am just saying.

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1. Female TV anchors and radio personalities.

Laura Walubengo, Julie Gichuru, Lilian Muli, Anne Kiguta, Valentine Njoroge, Linda Ogutu, Betty Kyalo, Victoria Rubadiri, Nini Wacera, Janet Mbugua, I could go on until the cows come home. Their names are sculpted in my yin and yang. I have a crush on all of them; it’s an abnormality going on.
I don’t think any of them play for my team but who cares! I talk about them all the time, about anything really. Take Valentine Njoroge and her baby doll face for example. I think she had all the good genes surgically implanted in her at birth; I could buy her a white horse, when my skint ass comes into money i.e. My God! I have such an over-active imagination.

2. Music/movies

I will listen to all kind of music if it has some lesbo girl in it or the girl acts queerish. I don’t care if it’s horrible music, I’m a minority and I support my own by buying (ok, downloading) music by babes from my family tree. You will find Tracy Chapman (a particular favourite, up there with pizza and chocolate), Jessie J, Diana King, Lady gaga, Nicki Minaj, Missy Elliot et al in my playlist.

Sometimes I will listen to very weird music, like hard metal. The one you don’t hear a thing and you have to Google all the frigging lyrics and cry yourself to sleep because while listening to it, you developed a frigging headache.

Of course I like all movies with lesbian characters. Before I buy one, I will Google it first; I want to know about the leading characters, are they women and how hot are they? Any movie with loads of women in it is awesomesauce!

3. Gay men.

How cool is it sleeping with a man in the same bed whose willy doesn’t even notice a girl is there? It is so totally cool.

They will keep you on your toes because unlike their heterosexual counterparts, questions like do I look fat in this are answered with honey, keep away from food for the next one month. I mean duuuh!

I don’t need fashion diaries with these dudes around; they know the difference between a fedora, a derby, a homburg and a pork pie.

You should Google these items just in case you think they are food groups.

Also, they are walking dictionaries these ones. I love that about them. They have different accents for different occasions, they are that intelligent ‘em twenging earthlings. Get the gay boys to do everything is the motto I use.

4. Dress code.

I am as feminine as they come. You won’t miss these items in my closet; scarves (a lot), blazers, hoodies, jerseys, bangles (a lot too), sneakers.. In short, I am better off with flats shoes. I am obsessed with scarves and bangles its crazy! I don’t know why, but lesbians have a long-term relationship with these items.
You might also find one or two lesbo paraphernalia which I keep hidden because I live with snoopy siblings.

5. Texting.

You would think I am re-building the Great Wall of China while typing on the phone. How else I am I supposed to stay in touch with all the lesbians of this country? The chats start with a simple hi and can stretch all day long arguing over whether to iron or not to iron our knickers.

I’m a bored youth with the privilege of owning a phone and Safaricom did not give us 500 texts a day for nothing.
Really, Wangu wa Makeri did not sit on men’s bottoms for me to sit in traffic counting all the pink Vitzes. I will spend a whole day texting and I don’t owe anyone any bloody apology.
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I will ignore your advice on how I should be building the economy of Kenya and keep typing, you are preaching to the converted. There are so many other hardworking Kenyans building the nation somewhere and I don’t see why you should pick on me!

So you will find me grinning while sending silly smileys all day long. Those little fuckers light up my world.

6. I am out with the girl’s night.

My ass is better off drinking burnt porridge and cold tea at home because I am too lazy to do anything, to dress up and to go clubbing. But when I do go out, it is such a big event it will leave everybody talking; the waitresses at least.

It takes a whole lot of convincing to bring a bunch of lesbians together so when we are in the club, we will break the bottles and flirt with all the waitresses.
We will demand to be served by a specific waitress because we have the hots for her. We will smoke and make out in the ladies rooms. Mostly, we are never in our best behavior.

It is in our DNA to cause scenes and go hammer and tongs with our exes who seems happier now that they are no longer with us, damn you philandering bitch we will shout. Fighting is our currency, the air we breathe.

7. Eye contact.

Mostly, I will hold my eyes on a woman for a whole minute if I am interesting in her. During this minute, I am sketching images about us eating pizza and riding on unicorns together in my head. I will smile radiantly and show naked thirst on my face. I am a weird girl.

It isn’t enough to read books about conquering the world of women and leave it at that.
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I have to keep reassuring myself that I will truly conquer this certain girl I am eyeing. That is called affirmation. I will spend a whole day imagining myself taking an evening swim with Valentine Njoroge, that is called visualization. Or I will write lists of all the hot women in Kenya. That is called writing lists of all the hot women in Kenya.

A girl got to do what she got to do.

To be continued……………………..

Liquid confidence (or lack of it thereof)

Saseni dildo lickers 🙂

I have a bestie who is a co-worker, a girl. Of course almost all of my besties are girls.

At this point I should mention that every bone in her body is heterosexual and she is really hot.

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She really likes me, that one I can tell for sure. It might be those cupcakes she brings me in the office or how she always seems to laugh every time I am telling her even the not so funny jokes. Or the fact that she treats me really special compared to the other workmates. This doesn’t settle well with the male colleagues but simply, there is no secret to our bond. I guess it’s a polite way of Mother Nature telling me that I was really born for this.

Despite the fact that we are in different departments, we somehow end up doing some assignments together in and outside the office.

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We do lunch dates, coffee dates, and hanging out dates a lot. And she bought me a teddy bear for my birthday, with a note declaring her love for me (the non lesbian kind).

Side note: The teddy bear was really expensive I almost thought it came with a stripper or something.

I keep re-reading that note like my life depends on it. So as a gesture to return my sweet display of love, on Valentines I decided to be romantic with her (wrong move number one) and bought her flowers with a note declaring my non-lesbian (how I wish) love for her too. She was thrilled. What came after that was her inviting me to her place for dinner (wrong move number two).

We drank wine. And drank some more.

Wine goes into places you never intended it to. Suddenly all caution is thrown out of the window and it makes you so confident you start singing in different tongues.

The liquid confidence.

This is when you are drunk and the straight girls test their curiosity while the lesbian girls throw caution to the wind. What happens after that is anyone’s guess. But she is not the curious girl. Refer to every bone in her body is straight statement above. All she talks about is her boyfriend, ex-boyfriends yada yada. Being the best friend I am, I always stand in and tell her stories of my imaginary boyfriends.

We did everything that night except cuddling, kissing, touching or any other word close to the nethers.

Probably some of you might curse me for not trying but hey the Pope didn’t resign for us to torment innocent girl’s minds.

In hindsight, buying her flowers was the mother of them all. Pray tell, which female buys another woman flowers with words like platonic in her head! I don’t know what to do with her any more.

So I will just go along with swallowing the lesbian instincts vibe and let it be because she is really dear to me, or I continue hoping the Mayans were wrong and the world is ending for real this time or I see the damn shrink.

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