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OPINION: Nairobi's dating pool, dirtier than Nairobi river

Between The Sheets

As a slender, twenty-something Kenyan woman navigating Nairobi’s dating scene, I’ve come to a startling conclusion: our dating pool is murkier than the Nairobi River itself.

After being single for what feels like an eternity (including a regrettable episode with a married greyhead- thanks, daddy issues), I decided to brave the world of dating apps. Spoiler alert: It only made me feel more single than ever. The profiles I encountered were a parade of red billboards: “Casual and fun dates, intimacy without commitment...” Really, gentlemen? Men are Kube! (Jerricans).

To my future husband, wherever you’re hiding, I have some serious complaints about this dating pool that’s testing my last nerve. I don’t know about you and the clown you’re currently dating but on my end...imebaki kidogo niende Maandamano!

Let me paint you a picture: I’m a proud black Kenyan woman, specifically a Luo woman from Ugenya, blessed with a voice that apparently sounds like “two Batmans in the morning.” And let me tell you, the experiences I’ve had would make the Dandora dumping site look like a luxury resort.

Take, for instance, the drunk advocate of the High Court who had the audacity to mock my voice, comparing it to King Kalala’s before hanging up. This Keg, Chrome-drinking gentleman (as my father would say) even threatened to “show me shege” – on my own phone, no less! Then there was the fellow who questioned my black lipstick, completely oblivious to the fact that these are my natural lips. Another twenty-something manchild assumed I must smoke weed because of my deep voice. “Huyu dem anavutanga bangi, hii sauti yake ni kubwa”

The audacity!

The cherry on top? A man from Murima asked why I “look like a Luo woman.” Well, surprise – because I am one! The irony of this height-challenged individual questioning my appearance wasn’t lost on me, especially considering I tower over him.

The demands for submission are particularly rich. One short gentleman from Migori insisted I be submissive simply because I refused to visit his house.

As my wise parent says, “Men who demand submission are usually wrestling with their inferiority complex.” Dad, I should have listened when you warned me about South Nyanza men.

The dating requirements get more ridiculous by the day. A muscle-bound gym rat from Gem had the nerve to say I had “girlfriend potential” but couldn’t date me because of my house curfew.

Sir, I am still children, I live with my parent, and being out past 9:30 PM feels criminal – even when I’m alone. Your desire for sleepovers and late-night recipe sharing screams toxicity, even if you are, admittedly, “biteable.”

Let’s be honest – I hate being single. I’m tired of the small talk, of constantly proving my innocence to someone’s entitled son. My desires go beyond physical intimacy; I crave emotional connection.

I want someone who’ll call unexpectedly just to share a good laugh, who’ll brave my questionable cooking skills (yes, I’ve given myself food poisoning attempting to make Indomie – but I’m learning!).

Speaking of cooking, here’s my golden rule: if you can’t cook, go back to your father’s house. Cooking is a basic life skill, just like sex, everyone should know how to cook. This brings me to my burning question: why are these men like this? Who raised them? And what cosmic joke has me attracting such mediocrity?

At this point, my future husband could probably win me over with a solid medical insurance plan and funding for my degree. Throw in some land and therapy coverage, and I’m sold. Because right now, we’re suffering twice – from both Zakayo’s incompetency and his gender showing us shege!

Am I alone in this madness? We need an emergency meeting before Valentine’s Day. This isn’t just a rant; it’s a manifesto for every woman tired of settling, of explaining herself, of being told how to exist. We deserve better than this parade of red flags and questionable behaviour.

Currently, my delusional self has taken a liking to a Kisii man. Ombea mimi, dear readers.

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