A Fruitless Friday

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Smug_Cell_400870073.jpgAs the sun sets on this lovely Friday evening I cant help but notice that I am finding it extremely hard to stay focused at work. A quick glance at my watch reveals that is twenty five minutes to seven. Although I don’t get off work till 9pm, my mind is somewhere very far from the computer screen I’ve been staring at for the past few hours.

I run through the specifics just to authenticate the severity of this conundrum.  It’s Friday night. It’s the end of the month. I just got paid, and I am looking for a good way to spend this paper. So I pull out my phone and begin the weekend text-a-thon.

“Hey hun, how u  been? What u  gettin in2 2nite”

 is the extent my outgoing SMS sent to a few friends. Now, I just sit and wait. Like a fisherman on an unpredictable fishing day I have sent out my bait under calm waters. I cross my fingers for a bit.

…Half an hour has gone by and still no incoming text messages. Not one. I decide to restart my phone in the event that the network may be having a distribution problem –it is, after all, a Friday night on the last day of the month. Still nothing. This is the part where a slight panic creeps in as I envision myself lying on the edge of my bed later in the night, phone by my side, passively staring at the TV while being reminded of how lonely life can get for single women in this city.

The sound of the all-too- familiar double beep catches my attention and I snap out of my daydreaming. I grab my phone hurriedly and see an incoming message.

“To get pictures, wallpapers, and access the internet easily,…”

…an automated message from my network provider. Great. I slump over onto my keyboard and a hundred random characters begin to compose themselves on the email that I have been writing for the past hour. I lift my face up, head in my hands and let out a deep sigh.

I’m exactly halfway through the year and have already racked up two failed relationships (each only lasting about a month), followed by two months of drama, despair, and a rebound or two. Surprisingly enough, I ended both relationships out of my own free will. The first was a fluke from the beginning; a prime case of settling for someone who happens to look your way while knowing you can do much much better. The second I actually thought had potential until I realized I was dating a bonafide womanizer when several other women came out of the woodwork claiming to be currently dating my then boyfriend.  Back at square one.

It is a story re-told constantly in this city. Women putting themselves out there in hopes of finally finding that elusive one percent breed of “Real Man” left in the world. The one who is honest with you. Doesn’t have several side dishes looming in the shadows. Doesn’t see you as a conquest to tell all his boys about over drinks. Pays attention to your personal as well as professional life. Is genuinely interested in getting to know you with your pants on. Respects your decision not to get down on the first night. Is not after you for your money. Recognizes a good woman when he meets one. Where the hell is THAT dude?

I look at my watch and I have less than an hour left to finish writing these reports and sending this email. My phone sits smugly on my desk as if to mock this catastrophic start to my weekend. Last Friday was no different. I involuntarily spent the night indoors watching some awful chick flick on TV where everyone ended up happy. Maybe today I’ll take some sleeping pills as soon as I get home just to avoid a similar situation. I’m now nearing my deadline and can sense the desperation taking over my nerves. I pick up my phone and draft a new SMS to an additional set of multiple recipients;

“Sema, its Furahi-day and I’m throwing pints. Leaving jobo in a few, can come scoop you on the way”

This is guaranteed to get me a few bites, I mean, who in their right mind refuses free drinks and a ride to the bar?

Apparently all but two of my multiple recipients who drunkenly replied my message at respectively 2:30 and 4:16am with texts reading:

“Where r u?” and

“Whaaa! Chik si Am ghih”A_glass_of_Merlot_141082859.jpg

Needless to say, the movie I end up watching is a sequel to the one of the week before, which turns out to be just as awful –if not worse. At least this time I have a glass bottle of Merlot to keep me company and send me into a deep, desperation-defying sleep. Now to get through Saturday night…



Mutinda is a 24 year old sexy single lady trying to survive in the city. A self-proclaimed independent hustler, her newly adopted philosophy on men is to wait till the right breed of manhood finds her. Not to sweep her off her feet, but to walk beside her while trying to keep up with the pace set by her stilettos.

http://jmutindasfactory.blogspot.com

“But through life and learning
Strife and yearning
I remain only one
Aiming straight ahead like the barrel of a gun”

–Mutinda–

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  • yolanda

    he he! and i thot my weekends are bad. next tym call me and we'll go on a gal's rampage in all clubs!

  • Albert Gitonga

    How about dinner Friday?

  • Vic

    Am game for the next drink:-)

  • Kate

    I agree with you gal, holla next time Friday comes.

  • grace

    ur not alone. i go through the same fate.at least you have the paper to spend and laks company, thats easy to find. its worse if you don't have both

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