The Last Romantic Alive

The last romantic alive.

So, I’m having this magnificent cup of ginger tea, as I tend to do ever so often, and (again, as it tends to do ever so often) its got me on a trip to the oblivion, you know that place where coherent thought goes to die, and where utterly aimless intrusive thoughts are born. Of course, I have got to take you on this little ego trip, were friends like that, aren’t we?

Its lockdown season, and making babies seems to be the most readily available, most satisfying recreational activity. And why not, what else are you all doing locked up at home for the better part of your day? But what about those (Mhmm mhmm) of us with absolutely no one to brave these cold Nairobi nights with?

In as much as Mejia would have us believe that you can bag a new beau in these Nairobi streets when you step out of your house, “Vitu kwa ground ni different.”  It used to be that you find someone who tugs your heartstrings, makes you feel butterflies in your stomach, makes fireworks explode in your brain (You know all these colorful descriptions that would hurt like a bitch in real life), You slathered on some Eau de cologne and went a’ courting.

Move on to 2020, you find someone who makes your heart beat faster, you feel heat rising up your spine when they smile, you stammer when they ask you to pass a pencil or the salt or something, you find yourself daydreaming, except it happens at night too. Finally, you ask your friends to gas you up, you pull that outfit you only allow yourself to wear in your dreams out of your closet, you (of course) slather on some eau de cologne, and go a courting. You go in all smiles, and it’s all vibes and smiles, until you get to the point, you’re sweating, afraid of rejection, then you get hit with an “you’re sweet, but I don’t swing that way.”

It’s a weird time to be alive 2020, it used to be you get rejected, you take Ls and keep moving. These days however, it’s not even a rejection, you didn’t even lose at the starting line, you were not even running the correct race. The funniest part is you can’t even be resentful, you just stand there all dazed and ponder how even the world is a kiss blocker these days.

Of course, even in this day and age, good old rejection still exists, but it is the least spectacular aspect of modern romance that hardly anyone bothers about it anymore. The shenanigans that occur dues to rejections never disappoint though. A hapless fella is always walking on the street minding their own business when he notices people pointing and snickering, he listens close enough, he’ll find that, after rejecting someone the state (and potency) of his manly machinery has been called into question. But that’s how it’s always been no?

Now, despite living in a romantically topsy turvy world, there still exist hopeless romantics like me. I still find myself daydreaming about a special someone I’m yet to meet. With big curly hair, dancing in the moonlight in a beautiful black dress she’s probably not even thought of buying yet. There’ll be Nina Symone playing from somewhere, and my heart beating along to the music. But hey that might be the ginger tea speaking, any who, this pot done, and thus ends our ego trip. Ill hit you up for the next brew yeah? Were friends like that after all.

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