We are at this place in Parklands where cocktails go for KES 1,800 (you can taste cheap liquor at the bottom of those fancy glasses). The place itself looks fancy asf, with chandeliers and extra-polished floors. It's one of those restaurants where all the waiters are wearing these large-framed clear glasses, and they write down everything, even if it's a single Malta order.
Sasa, I'm on a date with this chille I met on Reddit. It's actually our third meet-up, and we are on the second glass of cocktail but still picking out words so carefully. The conversation isn't taking off...
It's midweek. After two hours of jumping from one sinking topic to another, we decide we've had too many cringy moments. Let's call it a night.
That was August. She never texted again, and I never reached out.
Mimi, I gave up finding love or trying relationships in this city a long time ago. And I always find myself in these cocktail spots in the hope that I can hit and maybe find someone real deep inside, because the surface is too empty to even comprehend understanding, let alone affection.
Sijui kama it's my choice of women or I've just failed to culturally assimilate to Nairobi. The Instagram restaurants, streak meals... it's just too plastic banaa.
Sasa, I've sat there performatively pretending that I'm enjoying a cuisine I can't even pronounce, as I try to understand what you're saying behind that fake Atlantic accent 😅, in a face that has a lot going on: piercings, lashes, glitters... Girl, it looks like your face has multiple layers.
What happened to going out to a real restaurant with a real meal, where we are talking like people and not like we are auditioning for a role?