Someone - on some of the good stuff, once said that we plan and God laughs. In hindsight, the man upstairs must have been cracking his heavenly ribs during the penultimate stages of my planned date.
You see I had been pursuing the lady (let's call her Kathy with a K) for what felt like the longest time. After weeks of forwarding memes and deep-thought ‘good morning’ messages, she finally decided that I seemed interesting enough to actually meet! - Mama, I made it!
She agreed to go out with me and obviously I had to put my best foot forward but I was in those situationship scenarios with my wallet. Smack in the middle of the month with little to no liquidity attached to my name.
You know the time I'm talking about - the 10-13 days till the end of one of those 31-day months.
But I was determined to see it through.
The first potential hurdle in my all possible scenarios list happened the moment she (let's call her Kathy with a K) called.
"I'm running a bit late, is it cool with you if we switch the venue to someplace I know? It's close to where I work, and they have these amazing ribs that are to die for!"
awkward silence...
static...
more static....
"Sure, no worries. I'll find my way there, just send me your location," I finally muttered out.
Sensing the hesitancy, She asked if I was sure, to which I boldly said it totally was. What could possibly go wrong?
My wallet was pumping with confidence never thought I had, I mean, kwani how many more zeroes could someone add to a spread of ribs to what I routinely spent at my local. If only I'd have come clean at this very point.
I didn't.
So there I was, reworking my budget like a taxman on steroids. The change of venue meant I'd need to map out an alternative means of transport.
From the embarrassing conversations back in her DM, and a run through her profile, the Sherlock Holmes in me had figured out that her office was in those parts of town where 'no matatus allowed past this point' signs gawked at you at each entry and exit point.
Sherlock also told me that any eatery located anywhere within a one-kilometre radius of such an office would be one of those ‘wash-your-hands-in-scented-lime’ kind of places.
I quickly settled on using one of those taxi apps once I got to the CBD, in order to save up on some cash that could probably be the only thing standing between me and an Eiffel tower replica of dirty dishes by the end of the day.
So, there I was, scrolling through my Twitter timeline looking for nothing in particular as I headed to town. Heading towards what appeared to be certain doom, smiling briskly like a toddler who had just discovered colours.
I briefly caught a glimpse of a MCo-op salary advance notification on my timeline, - like a much-anticipated knight who had come to save me, I applied for the loan and within minutes I got that saviour text on my phone. I had money again.
Anyway, Kathy with a K called just as my taxi app driver and I had managed to locate each other.
"Hello. Umefika wapi? I should be done here in the next 20," she said.
"I should be there just in time," was my response.
Things took a turn into the unknown the moment my, surprisingly non-chatty taxi driver, drove past the point where no matatu had ever dared to venture. I was in unfamiliar territory but I was confident.
