In the last couple of weeks, there has been a passionate and spirited debate on the Marriage Bill by members of both ridges.

In the last couple of weeks staggering statistics regarding Kenyans’ use of condom have routinely made headlines.

This is the week when most high schools will hold the famous Leavers Bash. After studying for four years for things that, occasionally, had little meaning, it’s time for Form Four leavers to throw their feet up in the air.

For a very long time a majority of men have not had anything good to say about the weaves. Even as our sisters seem to be in an all-out competition on who sports the longest and most ludicrous weave set

Every time someone mentions crocodile tears, they are often referring to politicians, but for Frao and I, we remember a comical fete achieved by some guy back in our youth.

In high school, there is a senior teacher who besides teaching his or her specialised subject, also develops the timetable. They call this person the timetabler.

On Saturday, my pals Mark and Frao were planning on an evening full of bowling at The Village Market. They had roped in several other people so that we could have a couple of guys, and thereby, make the evening memorable.

The whole of last week, Frao has been oozing money pretty much the same way Arsenal’s Mesut Ozil has been oozing class. In fact, on Wednesday, he asked me to meet him at Kengeles Nairobi West to view a car he intended to buy.

In their hunt for the perfect partner, most men go to great strengths to appear as the perfect choice, even prepared to forget about the Saturday rugby and football dates with the boys to accompany the soul mate to shopping or saloon.

Last Thursday, I was having a drink with some female colleagues when Paul and Victor, long time pals from college, decide to barge into the party.

Last week on Wednesday, I had an appointment with one of Frao’s best pals — an annoying insurance sales guy. The man has pestered me for the last two months and I had finally given in, and agreed to meet him. If this was the only way to cut two calls per day to my phone besides having to look for intelligent explanations as to why I could not meet him that week, it was well worth it.

Last week, as we watched Liverpool surprisingly stew their long-term bitter rivals — Manchester United, in a top of the table Barclays Premier League clash — at a certain members’ club — we met Annabel. Annabel, I suspected, is light years ahead of our very own he-goat — Frao.

We are living in very interesting times. Every other week, dark figures are bandied around. Figures that Frao and I suspect are manufactured in the boardrooms of civil society NGOs, though research companies are usually roped in, too.

Once upon a time, women were the hunted species as men keen to exercise their machismo outdid each other to land a beautiful girl.

Long time ago in the days of our forefathers, barter trade was the way to conduct business. If one trader had beads and another had goats, all they needed to figure out is the exchange rate and business would be booming. Once that initiation equation was put in place, everything else pretty fell in place.

Last week, yours truly was stuck in traffic and with nothing particularly appealing to watch out for (where are all the good legged women when you are bored in traffic jam).