Before You Fall in Love.

It is Sunday night at 2204hrs. I sit in front of my laptop, with a mug of black tea, with the hope that I can write home something worth posting. I mean, worth reading. I can post anything. I have done it before. The thing is I have so much material in my notebooks, journals and a lot more in my head and heart. Yes, I have a heart too. Despite the voluminous material I allege to have, I have nothing to write. this is partly due to the personal nature of the said material and how scattered, disorganized it is. (Isn’t it funny and pathetic how lame people can be when they cannot do what they are supposed to do? That moment when you want to hang on anything that will save your face from yourself because deep inside you’re fully aware that you are just a loafer). But truth be told, my articles are just scattered (Yeah, Peter. They are. lol)

To be able to look at my big nose in the mirror tomorrow and be unashamed at how much oxygen I breathe in daily while doing nothing worthwhile, I decide I’ll have to bang a few keys and see what I will write (or draw). Inspiration is hard to come by, so I sit there, hoping a Jehovah Witness would come and I engage them in a wild goose chase of arguing why ‘Heaven is up there’ and by giving them false hope I want to convert… Thirty minutes later, nothing.

I refill my mug and sit again. To keep off typing things that will kill the little self-esteem I have left, I stare at my mug in the hope it can tell me something other than I am screwed. The mug has an ivory black coating and the rim is an extension of the inside silvery stainless steel that keeps my black tea hot. On the outside, it is boldly encrypted the letters EU EVANGEL UNIVERSITY, and  it was a gift from an American friend. I tell you people. I am not local. I know people. Soon i will be resettling in Australia and have kangaroos for pets. Come 8/8 and my vote doesn’t count and everyone else votes for these good for nothing politicians, I am moving out. To Australia or to Meru. No more Nairobi.

As I sip from my mug, I realize how loyal this mug has been: It’s been more than two years. It has scratches which signify the stretch marks and wrinkles we get with age. It has been my companion when those deadly deadlines had to be met. I have drunk from it when I was celebrating my small wins and also when my girlfriend left me.   It has served me tea when I am watching a movie instead of finishing on an assignment. This beauty doesn’t judge me. It is for me, always.

Then it hit me:

As a man, you will need so many things in life; skills to help you through life, Money, Love, some kids to ruin your fun, some crazy in-laws (Seriously, if I don’t get crazy in-laws, we are divorcing. I want some action), some good friends, but, until you have that one mug – that you will wash and use despite having a couple more that are clean, that mug you can use for a whole week – until you have that one mug,  do not fall in love with a woman. This is wisdom. I am sure my old man agrees with me wherever he is because I know he has one there too.

Honestly though, if you cannot genuinely, loyally and selflessly love a mug – that has no feeling except that of warmth when you need it, doesn’t judge you when you are at your best (read as an ass), never complains when you don’t touch it for weeks (and you touch other less deserving items like plates) and doesn’t complain when you hold it late into the night after weeks of emotional, physical negligence, a mug that doesn’t demand more than it needs to satisfy you – if you cannot love such a mug, how will you handle a woman with a zillion emotions (plus 269 million possible permutations of the same emotions), who likes and dislikes the same things at the same time and wants a nice guy who is also a bad guy who also happens to be young, rich and he should not be a drug dealer, a guy who should have a life but will pay with his life if he doesn’t call often and the frequency of the calls should not be annoying and the exact number of calls per day he has to figure out…?? How will you, bruh?

Before you fall in love, get a mug. Love the mug. It rewards in this cold weather too.



5 Replies to “Before You Fall in Love.”

    1. Hahaha…for a starter, get out of whatever rat-hole you’ve been hiding your kiria.
      and mine is written EU just because it’s me, you know…

      Thanks for finding some minutes to waste


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