It is time you forget Mr Right and accept Mr Right Now

Photo:Courtesy

I am very picky about everything from the crisps I eat to the toothpaste I use, to the type of bra I wear. So you can imagine my list for Mr Right aka Ann’s-future-husband at age 20. I came up with a list so elaborate it could put the fairy tale template of Prince Charming to shame.

My list read something like this: he had to be tall, dark and handsome, and at least 6 feet 5 inches. He had to be stinking rich, have a top job, drive the latest Range Rover (it had to be black) and own a house in one of the leafy suburbs of Nairobi.