Tips on where to find Nairobi lesbians…and other revelations

You guys are fond of stories, no? I will tell you one anyways.

Photo courtesy of: cartoon-lesbians.tumblr.com/

A time. I was done watching all the lesbian movies (all ten of them) and I was being driven insane by the unholy urge to do the nasty. This is an urge that can make women lose their birthright, with the exception of yours truly. Right. After purchasing plaid shirts, spotting funny hairstyles, smiling at random women on the streets, (I could go on) came my element of surprise. The Kenyan lesbian Venn Diagram is complicated and admittedly, I was terribly naïve. And thus came the period where I thought I was the only queer person in this country, or what I like to call my most depressing years on this cold earth. FYI, the whole lesbian movies cliché route will not work in this country. I just figured I should leave that fact here to lock it forever in words for the rest of naïve generations to come.

Picture it: you are in the communal laundry room in your flat and you realize you don’t have loose change for the chocolate dispenser. Without even going further with this story, we all know you hand wash your laundry, or mama safi does it for you now don’t we? Besides, how many flats have communal laundry rooms here or chocolate dispensers for that matter? I am just saying that chances of having damsel in distress scenarios and getting saved by another drop dead gorgeous damsel are slim to none in this country.

So maybe you ought to follow my modus operandi.

I created a crafty email account followed by an equally crafty Facebook account. Thing with Facebook unlike its radical twin sister Twitter is that you are allowed to have strange names such as ‘thevampiricallesbian’ or ‘LesboSuccubus’ or anything really. Facebookers give you space for these abnormal behaviors. My Facebook name therefore fell on those lines. It was unbelievably embarrassing so I will just spare myself this searing shame and get into the hunt.

Which one of you fellas haven’t heard of Denis Nzioka? Hand over your cave person combinations card if you haven’t. I should formally introduce him. He is here @DenisNzioka and here denisnzioka.co.ke and Denis Nzioka on Facebook. Me thinks he is the most amazing-looking man I know. Not many men can pull off his look. His features are beautifully handsome. Beautiful smile, his eyes like stars shining in the dark, his tender mouth…I didn’t mean to confess my love for him but I guess I just did. It is through Denis (albeit virtually) that I got to meet the LGBTI community. So that would be your first tip. He knows all important gay aspects and everybody loves Denis! My relentless adoration of him meant that he accepted me as a friend and hence I got a chance to see all his friends, (and followed all 5000 of them duuh) especially the women (and they are many) who in return, followed back! I was in heaven, Praise God.

Where do the lesbians meet? This is a question that will take us back to Facebook. I might as well get paid for marketing Facebook on here. I realized that most lesbian groups are found there. Search and you will find. There are women dedicated to making our lives happy. They put up notifications for picnics, visiting the underprivileged, house parties, road trips..anything! If you’re interested in such, there is always a person you can get in touch with. Follow organizations that support the LGBTIAQ in Kenya while at it; UHAI-EASHRI, Minority Women in Action, Gay Kenya, , GALCK, Kaleidoscope Trust, they are many. This way, you will be able to follow any upcoming events organized by these organizations.

Well, I was armed with gazillion followers and with a history of no sex and unholy thirst, this became a very unfamiliar territory. What are you thinking? Facebook would ask. Here, I developed my new specialty. I would post and comment on other posts like I was getting paid. For real, I would have owned an oil well in Lamu by now dear reader. I asked questions and was really interested in what was going on in other people’s lives. And as befits someone who is permanently horny, I would post random posts and say I was actually horny. To my complete astonishment, women liked that vibe. Like I minded! I think it is the hysterics I used on there, or the women were naturally good-natured. And yes I flirted a lot. That helped too.

So there, I worked with what I had and it worked, by the way. Facebook is not as bad as they tell you it is Yo. I have to state here again that in Facebook, just like any other social network, you have to learn to keep your horny side to yourself because getting to know people takes time. You don’t want to be that woman who gets lured into some pit that people suck humans dry; You will need to pray for loads of patience. And another thing- this is how I met my first girlfriend. I could count my sexual partners in less than one hand, in fact three fingers. But I can say one thing for sure; Facebook is where the lesbians are at.

Gay clubs. I hate to be the one to break this one to you but there are no exclusive gay clubs in Nairobi. It is a hard life out here. Just be courteous and have good mannerisms and you can drink anywhere. Except iclub, (formerly Tacos). I have witnessed a case where a friend could not be let in the club because the bouncers were feeling too hot for her revolutionary hair cut. Wankers! In fact, most gays have boycotted this club altogether.

It takes ages before I venture out of my secret hideout which is my bedroom. I’d rather ignite my hair than go clubbing. Given the option of hanging out in an actual club and dance the night away or hang out in my bedroom in my knee length tees together with my wolly socks, I would choose the latter. I know. I know. Okay? So I asked my very good friend Fifi to let me in on the names of these clubs. She happens to be extremely blasé this one. There is Envy, Gypsies, Sevens and Frankies. Hello Fifi, you are now famous! Naturally, I wouldn’t know the location of these clubs so I hope you’ll get in on the search dear readers.

Splendid. Now you know of two things that actually work. What do I wish I knew at eighteen? That I didn’t have to feel so alone. Or lesbian penpals for God’s sake; anything to compare my life with others. But how could I choose who I wanted to be if I didn’t have anyone to compare it to? I can’t even remember my teenage years so well. They were so blurry and full of self-pity. I did not know for instance, that I didn’t have to read yet another copy of Sweet Valley High Novel in high school just to fit in. Quite frankly, I found those books boring as fuck. But I remember reading James Baldwin’s Giovanni’s Room. And re-reading it and re-reading it and crying because it aroused a compelling craving in me. I could feel myself in its pages but I was something my peers weren’t. Those depressing years lasted well enough.

Phew. But I am here now, aren’t I? Pursue your own happiness is all. Most importantly, you don’t have to feel so alone. It is an unfalteringly horrid experience. Also, work with what you have, no woman will be presented to you with every bell and whistle imaginable. You deserve to be happy, darling.

Why you won’t be getting laid anytime soon.

Image

I am not an expert on dating advice. Writing a queer blog means I have very big shoes to fill, wearing many hats like making sure lesbians get laid and what have you happens to be one of them. Everyone or majority of people loves sex. It is a primal instinct. You aren’t getting some with that girl and you want it as a matter of utmost urgency so here is how you are blowing it, and thoroughly. Rather, I should write words you would understand; why you are a royal pain in the ass in the dating world. Annoying words huh? You aren’t familiar with annoying until you have encountered a woman who types in shorthand. That’s where I am embarking on this annoying habits journey.

I may not word this as memorably and assertively as I’d like to, but please for the love of the crucified Christ, never use shorthand. Even my ten year old nephew does not abbreviate messages. Here’s a setting:

Me: Hey
Her: Hye (yes, there is such a word apparently)
Me: (Rolling eyes) How’s your day?
Her: Jz bumn in de hauz
Me: (Ten minutes later) Okay. That is not a very bad thing I guess..
Her: Nah, tz bd! M bord 2 deth!
Me: (unspecified amount of time later) I am sorry to hear that. Have a nice day.

It is not remotely possible to continue with this conversation, a whole ten minute of my life that I will never get back. That right there is the cream of the top if you ask me. The fucked-upness of them all. Seriously, I could write a novel. Jz=just, bumn=bumming, hauz=house, tz=it is, bd=bad, M=I am, bord=bored, deth=death, (just in case you aren’t familiar with that kind of code). Which over sixteen humanoid makes the deliberate effort of typing like that? The woman in the above setting is ironically bumming in the house but for highly complex reasons, she cannot bring herself to type fully formed words like the grown up she is. There got to be some place you take the time you saved while writing that. Somebody ought to educate me. Or maybe it is something in our food. Is it a childhood issue, like lousy upbringing? Are these the famous kids that weren’t held enough, or the babies nobody picked up? For those of you who are well travelled, is this kind of twaddle found in other countries or is it a Kenyan tragedy? Surely, if you are a victim of this kind of retarded way of communicating, do whatever you got to do to stop. Go back to school if you have to.

Just because you are a lesbian does not mean you look like a walking disaster. This encompasses everything. From the clothes you wear, your hair, how you smell, shoes-it all goes together. You have to make deliberate efforts to take care of yourself. I understand we are living in very hard economic times. The taxes, soaring prices of food, everything is downright expensive. I get that. I am struggling just like everybody else. I also get the bad hair days and the extremely broke days. That’s cool once in a while. But by God, not every day of your life. If you can afford the luxury of indulging in cigarettes and beer every other weekend, you can afford a nice perfume and I clearly don’t have to spell out everything for you. Women like women who look and smell good. It is a universal principle of fashion that majority of women (straight and non-straights) dress for other women. Therefore, we notice these things. We are naturally responsive to these kinds of stuff. Don’t break a bank to look good though. Work on a minimum budget and save up the rest of the money. On that saving up note, I feel compelled to add a note here. There is a group of lesbians that try too hard to impress. We are warmed up nicely with the idea that you have a hundred pair of heels, sneakers, boat shoes, hoodies et al. Which is nice. But please, don’t be that lesbian who hits thirty without a penny under her name. I am just saying that given the option of showing off with expensive clothes, hanging out in expensive clubs and saving some money for rainy days, I’d choose the latter. You can only live off your parent’s money for so long. Plus, we shall label you for that lesbian who donned expensive shoes but is now living off donations. Save and save is all I am saying.

Be intelligent. It doesn’t matter whether you were an all E’s student or all A’s in high school. The kind of intelligence I am talking about here is not school related. However, if you are an ardent follower of the gay scene in the world, you will notice that many queer people are well read. They are ridiculously intelligent. Arts, academics, sports, name it. Chances are, you will end up with one of these people across your table. Honey, do yourself a favor and get some education in your head. The words that come out of your mouth are directly connected to the kind of people you attract in your life. We are endeared to people who know stuff, anything. Be passionate about something, be that woman people phone to get updates on warring countries, or to get your views on the controversial Lupita’s dress. You get the drift. Have your own views on life. You can’t be agreeing on everything people say. It is a major turn off with most people. It doesn’t matter whether you are in the Guinness list of the hottest people on earth or you are the chosen Daughter of Zion. As long as you have a doughnut for a brain, then many people will be blind to your beauty. Or maybe they will be attracted to you for some time and then drop you like the hot stuff you are. I am just saying, know the world around you, sweetheart.

Be independent. Again, no one has invented the word I need to emphasize on this one. It is okay to need help, it is okay to be vulnerable, it is okay to borrow money from people when you get broke and you desperately it. The highest number of citizens in Kenya are unemployed, no means of livelihood whatsoever. I get it. But for christ’s sake don’t be too needy and clingy about it. Borrow money only when you need it, and return it back while at it. There’s very little that puts as much strain on relationships and friendships as the constant habit of borrowing money. You become that woman that people avoids, people will vanish out of your life. You will die alone, you will spend your life thinking you were cursed, the works.

This list is only the half of it. There is enough to wake the dead but being a Monday morning, I know you have other more interesting things to do with your life dear reader. You are free to use these tips, by the way. You know where to send the royalty cheque.

Blessed week.

A lesbian, incognito.

For the purposes of full disclosure, I support lesbians who live closeted lives (being a victim myself) as much as I support all out lesbians. I hope that we can be in agreement here for once that we don’t necessarily have to live in the closet/out tick box. The entirety of your sexuality should not be dictated by the society or your partner for that matter. The lesbian in the closet versus the out lesbian is not a comparative listing, it is not a goal we should all achieve, it is not a contest where we are promised some brownie points at the end of the sexuality race, it is not a seal of stability, it should also be your very own battle to fight.

Battle is a strong word to use, but it has been made to seem as such. Battle so draining we are seen as the-partners-who-don’t-bring-their-all-into-the-relationship. Seriously?

I know what you are thinking. I am saying this because I am closeted and ashamed of my sexuality. You are right on the closeted bit (which I have disclosed of course) and very wrong on the shame part. You guys, I would eat my lesbian life and take it out on a five star date. Keep in mind that lesbians are generally frugal women and going for five stars dates is no mean feat.

Inasmuch as it is liberating to live outside the closet, inasmuch as I love the feeling it leaves in my mouth, it should not be a mark of the ultimate lesbian love story. Sacrificing everything for my partner is one thing, showing this through coming out to the society and family is another. Lesbian relationships have been reduced to are you closeted or not check boxes. You are not lesbian enough if you can’t stomach reading a coming out to your family speech. The proverbial victim-villain story.

I wish people would trade families for a year or two. (And I dare you to survive a week in mine). Maybe then, we shall all learn that it’s not all bliss behind the closed doors. There are so many things that my closeted life offers, and maybe that’s why I have decided to stick with it. I have toyed with the idea of coming out to my family. However, by process of elimination I have found myself on the closeted standpoint time and again. Maybe I just need more time, or maybe I feel safer here. And maybe I sound very selfish.

Participating in we don’t bring everything to the table talks is in my opinion, very retrogressive. What I actually do bring to the table is far much important. It should be about surviving together as partners in not so friendly environments. It is already harsh out here; being looked down upon by fellow lesbians because I have not joined the exclusive non-closeted lesbian club is extremely dejecting. We are lesbians. Period.

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

To those of you disengaged from reality

bleh

There are a couple of words in the gay world you can say if you want to get ahead and look really clever. Use words like pederasty, libertine, exhibitionism, heterosexism et al in one sentence and this turns you from (let’s say) some simpleton with a Diploma in puppetry (do not take offense puppetry people) to some genius with impeccable erudition. Coming on the heels of the Anti-Homosexual bill signing in Uganda are queer bashers having a field day from here to Murang’a. Let’s leave Museveni and his fragile ego thing for now and talk about these facebookers and their 140 characters neighbors.

Christ! I bet this is the closest some of these people have ever got to a climax. I don’t befriend them for one nanosecond but their avalanche of crap somehow finds its way towards me. This is a huge culture of mediocrity and it has a huge following. No amount of muting or blocking will stop them. I am sure they gathered somewhere at night when they were adding friend requests and following each other on these social media platforms, did some weird rituals and decided let’s go and create havoc to the wicked. They are voluble and pestiferous; and they are idle. Stop them dead on their tracks and they will pounce on you like the proverbial crap hits the fan. Really, I have never seen so many difficult words in my entire internet life.

One of those idle people is Irungu Kangata, Kiharu MP. I won’t give him much airtime here but he is out there in Facebook practically surviving on huge doses of homophobia; which is putting it mildly cuz if this guy had a wish he would decapitate our heads. Update after update on his page on how homosexuals will cripple the economy of this nation and I am doing a running commentary in my head that it’s either these updates are for the amusement of small children or he is just deeply, deeply boring. I am not being figurative by the way; it is there on his wall. The economy of Kenya is coming down y’all.

So you got blood pressure? Bad hair day? Anglo-leasing? Marital issues? Jehovah witness at your door? Caught watching porn in the office, anyone?

HOMOSEXUALS!

Satan has nothing to do with it.

I am a seasoned lesbian. If you are going to spend your days thinking that your bashing is going to send heterosexual shock waves to my brain, you better come prepared. I’m driven by very primal lesbian urges and all the English vocab is not going to save me. The seasoned lesbian thingie comes fully equipped with immune for two. And I have had it since my pre-pubescent days.

Ah-ha. Kenya is very democratic. And you should voice your opinions. Now, assuming we were to all march the streets of Nairobi and torch vehicles every time a girl in her early twenties is made Deputy Ambassador of some country? It would be very unprofessional for a citizens known to stomach bigger scandals. We don’t carry placards and publicly rub ourselves on innocent pedestrians at the first opportunity. That’s what counts.

This post is about to turn political and it might rub on some people suggestively. I will leave politics to the intellectually inclined folks.

Stop being so melodramatic about it is all. It’s hackneyed and cartoonish.

What’s the worst that could happen?

Image

A Sunday.

First, I would like to apologize to my atheist readers because this post is church related. Also, it’s about God so to the rest of the religions, I pray for tolerance.

So- Newsflash!- This lesbian goes to church.

And I will tell you this for nothing, the church happens to be a good place. That is if you are into sitting at one place transfixed at a certain object for five hours straight. That is totally my thing, I happen to be the most patient person in the history of the world.

 

The above certain object happens to be the cross. Nothing to instill the fear of the Lord in your soul like the good wooden cross.

 

So this particular last Sunday came after the Valentine’s day (you know the day the town is in bloody circus?) that’s me admitting that I’m happy for everyone of you that got red flowers and undies, not. I happen to be sitting next to dad, as I always do. I’m a protestant and that means we carry our own hymns and Bibles because the millions and millions Church offerings get channeled towards our reverend, deacons and deaconesses Per Diem. The church therefore, cannot (and of course I don’t possibly see how) afford to buy the congregation the said books and so I will have to sit next to dad every Sunday so we can share. Why can’t I just buy my Bible you ask? Well, that is a very important question.

 

Most churches (this particular one is quite clear on that) are gay intolerant. Homosexuality arouses very strong passions in people, the devil is also quite clear too that he has a corner specifically set for us at his place. It’s unimaginable EVIL. But that’s beside the point. Despite everything that’s wrong with my life, I am here. The Reverend is giving us a little spiel about love, he is intoxicated by the Valentines love bug me thinks. He is referring to every love verse; this is especially a traumatic ordeal for me because sitting next to father means I get to have the huge task that is to locate for the said verses. Painstakingly, he marks every sermon with his special mark pen. Different one every Sunday, his Bible is now multicolored from years of use, and I automatically love it. You know, rainbows. I love rainbows my gentle readers.

 

What is love? Reverend says it is kind, it does not judge blah blah blah. Right, love does not judge. Now, my eyes are transfixed on the Reverend. I would love to hear him explain this one. And during one of those life’s rare coincidences, our eyes locks for a whole two seconds. My poor attempt at nonchalance ensures that I nod vigorously and together with the faithfuls, chants a big AMEN! I’d like to think it is God’s commanding presence but at that instant where our eyes lock, I think about Messiah’s second coming, I think about the lady I was checking out on our way to church, I think about my web history, I think about the gay people in Nigeria and Uganda, I think about the laptop I left unattended in my bedroom and all its lesbian porn and at the spur of the moment, I do what a good lesbian Christian would do, nothing.  You see, the church has a way of specifically loading on homosexuals’ shoulders, the sins of the rest of humanity. And they are many. But if you want to target my sexual orientation without even mentioning your nightly orgy of masturbation dear Reverend Christian, I’ll need a damnly good reason why.  

 

Love does not judge. The Reverend is unstoppable.

 

The church was built to instill good values in our hearts. Without a doubt, this is true. I don’t even question the credibility of that for one second. I don’t even justify my extreme gayism behaviors, I am a sinner dear gentle reader.  The fact that I will burn in hell is the final piece of the puzzle. But will you at least stop drumming this in my head every one second? I think the intolerance surrounding the hate for homosexuals makes a mockery of the whole Church structure. The blabber in loving your enemy is sickening mendacity and plain bigotry.

 

Why not quit church altogether you ask? I go to church to be alone with my thoughts, and for many other reasons I don’t have to necessarily explain to anybody. The Great God of the universe has not yet struck me with a sword, I WAIT. Also, I think who or who won’t burn in hell is too close to call for any fellow humanoid.

 

What would the Holy Virgin Mary do?

 

She would give unto the Lord what belongs unto the Lord. And so it is offerings time and I raise my note unto the high heavens. Praying to God that could he please remember me in his kingdom? That despite my extreme earlier mentioned behaviors; I paid the good Reverend to spread the gospel. It’s not for me to question what he does at night under his duvet.

 

Unrelatedly, on my way out I run into the lady I was checking out earlier on our way to church. This is definitely a sign. Do you know how to interpret dreams and signs my gentle reader? Neither do I.

 

Go ye in peace.

 

 

The elusive Gaydar

 

Walks into a coffee house, spots beautiful unchaperoned woman, stares at woman, fiddles fingers, scratches head, sips coffee, pours scolding hot coffee on self’s tits, makes a hot mess, looks up to stare at woman, woman is leaving now, holy crap she is coming over to your table….

That is Hollywood for you. Now back to Kenya. You are screwed and nobody gives two hoots.

It’s like the writer’s muse. Writers will go batshit crazy looking for it at the insides of their cigars, they will run naked in the middle of the night and come back with all of two sentences if they are lucky, or in most cases they will end up writing one book in two decades. Physical and emotional miseries.

I was having a conversation with a programmer who told me that he might be in the process of building a particular application but there is this line of code that just won’t work. Then it will appear to him like a dream in the dead of the night and it doesn’t matter whether he was making sweet love to his dear wife, he will hit the sheets like a demented creature and make a run for his laptop.  Else, he won’t remember it for months on end. What a life to live. Also, poor wife!

Gaydar is far much worse. I mean, we are talking about a heart and a homophobic population. I can’t remember which site this was but someone left a comment and said that if their kid was gay, he would skin off their manhood and spray pepper spray on them. I don’t know about you but getting sent to hell with hot flaming balls isn’t my idea of dying. Especially now that I am a woman and I don’t have balls so I am thinking that maybe this particular reader would have chopped off my breasts. It’s dreadfully scary what hitting on a straight woman/man can turn into. You don’t know whether what you have is an abnormal attraction masquerading as gaydar. Many of us were denied this God-how-much-we-all-need-it skill.

Image

memecentre.com

 

 

It is a fundamental law of nature that our lesbian hormones are always on a 24 hour clock shift. We will stop at nothing. Seriously, you just can’t stop us. How else do you explain flirting with a married heterosexual woman who even the devil knows you will never have. How do even explain to her how you get erotic dreams of you giving her earth shattering cunnilingus. How do you know she won’t tell on you to the authorities. When in the midst of all these emotions do you know what’s gaydar even if it were to hit you smack dead on your face. BUT we will hit on these married heterosexual women anyway, because that’s what winning means.     

 

Image

My gaydar is generally not so bad. I can call it neutral, occasionally edging toward bad. I will stare at a woman and two seconds into it I know she is lesbian. I will however practice the same with another woman and tumble head-first into the whale-belly of scoring an E. You can never tell with the dress code here. The old-age plaid shirt giveaway for instance does not apply on our streets. Lesbians have mastered the art of camouflaging in the crowds. Yours truly included.  Stereotypes or no stereotypes, gaydar is your best friend. I will be speaking for many lesbian women when I say that sometime you just want to hug a random beautiful woman on the streets, in a matatu..she look so divine, she looks like a lesbian, oh God you just wanna kiss her.

Gaydar entails confidence. It entails learning how to hold a stare; it also entails having a third eye. It is all about having killer conversation starters, and keeping the conversation going. If you are homosexually stunted, you will need to be laid hands on. There is no way you will survive in this hot and dry season in Kenya if you are the type to wait for a gay angel to rise from hell and cure your dry spell. Forget about snuggling in cold winter, there is something in this hot February sun that turns on all your horny hormones. I happen to know because I am speaking for myself. Pick cues from everything and everybody in her life. Compliment her and study her body language. There must be something there. Also, lesbians are generally friendly people. Take this to your advantage and study her keenly. You know, I am just giving you my two cents worth, this ain’t the gospel yo. Somebody needs to explain to me in writing how you spot a lesbian say 500 metres away and all your gaydar bells goes off. I mean, there are effeminate men for instance who can get you all so confused. But they happen to be as straight as a round-about. Same case applies to our tomboys and butch sisters. I think it is constitutionally wrong to judge people’s sexuality by their dress code.

So where to from here?

I suggest you work with intuition. It is pretty much the straight twin sister to gaydar. If it feels right, then it is right.

 

Image