I’m in love with six interesting girls. They are interesting because each has a unique feature that the other doesn’t. I’m the only person who comfortably can distinguish their characters so well. As though that is not enough, they do not know each other, but they do have an instincts that there is someone else apart from them in my life. I’ve therefore perfected the art of keeping each away from the other.
Their names are Who, When, Where, What, Why and How. The first five obviously, because of their nature are really temperamental, while the sixth is accommodative and although she is naïve, she can just be as quarrelsome, as the rest.
Who always wants to know all my friends are. She likes scrolling through my phone book and messages. She is secretive, inquisitive and a protector – she doesn’t like me talking to any woman.
When comes in handy at the end of the month. She knows that time I must be loaded. After all, what could be the reason for going out to eke a living for 30 or so days? At times she understands when I explain the economy is quite messy, but most of it she thinks I’m not spending my hard-earned wisely or I share it out with females at a local club.
I met Where on one of city’s Red Light Districts. (Don’t ask me what I had gone to do there). She told me her parents passed on and that she didn’t have anywhere to go. Her only means of survival lied on her flesh. According to analogy, that was the last option, but it miraculously became the first. Since I’m a human being, I offered to help her come out of the mess only if she promised to leave that filthy business. Since then, we’ve been partners. Interestingly enough, she doesn’t stray out of me.
The next girl, What, is the most temperamental of all. She doesn’t like being asked questions. To her, that’s infringement of her rights. I think she should have been a lawyer or a journalist or something like that… a nurse,a receptionist or anything else.
Why on the other hand asks really hard questions. I think it’s her human nature to ask questions, but when they become really hard… I just take an newspaper and straight go to the classifieds section or take a long walk to where my legs would carry me. I end up at my last girl’s, How.
Since I always make it to her place, which I rent out as the rest of her colleagues, late at night after a brawl (usually with Why), How will enquire whether all is fine. After cheating her around, she comforts me, but then as with the rest, lack of money, is her greatest foe. That means she won’t talk to me for as long as there is no money. However, I won’t miss the warmth that a man is bequeathed.
With these kind of girls, what more can a man ask for?
Mbũrũ Kamau
