By Winnie Onyango
A poem asserted that beautiful women are like a rose in a forest of thorns. When they are expensively dressed one might think they know it all, they walk in style, have specific types of phones and if you find yourself in their company you’ll be confused at which one of their models is ringing, they don’t just speak any English apart from that of ‘Obama’ and Kofi Olomide’s ‘skol’ is their song. They are more enthusiastic, too eager to please men. At clubs, it is girls to order and the rich man pays, the girl just giggles at him and caresses his thigh as the man laughs. They also have bewitching smiles, their beauty and attractive figure blend well with all types of exhibitions, they know where to wind their arms and how to do it not like amateur who simply rests their heads on men’s chests anyhow, and they know how to lie to men and are masters of deception.
As I stroll in town and about to cross the road to National Bank of Kenya, there was this guy standing off to the side of road. He was one of those light-skinned dudes, nice, neat dreadlocks, pretty eyes, one of those guys who can wear a loose shirt and you can still tell that he is muscular. I had a good time glancing until I noticed he was looking back. ‘You have beautiful eyes girl’ he said smiling. I smiled back shyly. Not my nature. But since am in a hurry to board a vehicle, we exchange smiles hurriedly and he gives me his business card signaling I call him urgently -his hands pinching my hips. Inside the vehicle, I beat my chest so hard for such luck. I’ve never been taken for a date and don’t know how people behave on such occasions, then I remember my friend Betty- who has been in the company of ‘queens’ and I smile.
I make a call to Betty, who gladly responds without hesitation. Then, I full of certainty dialing his business number, the man respond with a voice full of thirst and passion and send us fare. In our ‘best exhibition’, board vehicle to town. While am still in deep thoughts of which alcoholic drink I’ll take since I’ve never had a taste, she assures me not to worry since she’s well versed with all brands. It happens that my ’man’ is also in the company of his male friend to blend the occasion. Betty smiles foolishly as the waiters serve us. Later, we are required to order for alcoholic drinks, Betty ordered ‘Tusker’, while my man, ordered me ‘snap ice’.
In consecutive dates, I getting used to alcohol, opting to have tastes of other brands thinking its normal. Soon it becomes obvious that I become addicted to alcohol and within no time spends hours in clubs and bars satisfying my hangovers continuously. This sends me regrets of why I even started in the first place, and right within me I know, it will never cease soon.
The author, Winnie Onyango, is a psychologist and a counselor.