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I was at West Mall the other evening, when I happened upon this six gang of old male friends who have been pals for as long as I can remember. We joined four young ladies who were being ‘held hostage’ by this senior manager as he waited for the Gang of Six to join them. I stayed just long enough to have a quick bite of the piles of nyama choma they had ordered that seemed to come in rounds, had one can of Carlberg then fled before the tidal waves of Jameson whiskeys they had asked for began to breach the beach.
What struck me was that when I first knew these gentlemen, we were all just out of college, all unmarried, and while it may be very ‘bromantic’ the way they have stuck together, their ways unchanged, three of them are married, the fourth is re-married, the fifth has a long term fiancee and only one of them is ‘forever single.’
Yet on a Monday evening, as the KTN Prime Time news begins, they all are far from home, in a squalid bar stall, with the first of many single malt beverages about to hit the spot. And there are FOUR young ladies seated with them at the table. And I overheard them talk about ‘a plot in Kajiado’ this weekend to ‘chase away Njaanuary’ - and I doubt they were discussing parcels of land in the periphery of the city to invest in for their offspring.
Ever since Beryl up there got a baby (whom she has already began terrifying by taking airbone on Air Kisumu, yawa!), I have felt a little mellow, so allow me to betray the bros, and help the ladies, because as sure as January has 93 days, this mood of mine in ‘Men Only’ will not last.You may not be able to get rid of a Gang of Six of your man’s ‘boys’ all at a go, but you can divide and rule, splinter and split such undesirable sextets.
The best friend: Always begin with the Top Dog of such a mob, the Best Friend, the one who was/will be best man when you were or will be the bride. Once you are secure, make it a Me or Him proposition in terms of how time is spent. Such guys can become the third wheel on the bicycle of your relationship that sends it wobbling ... and before you know it, you are crashing to the hard tarmac.
The relas: Then there are the blood relationships. Dads, especially older ones, are allowed to be dependent on handouts and other stuff from their sons (although, funnily enough, it is mostly daughters who end up with this burden). But do not allow that deadbeat brother to become your family yoke, you know, the one who is already a family joke, who has drug issues and now his mother wants him to come live with his ‘older brother’ ( your man). Your home is not a rehab, and your hubby is not Jaguar.
The needy friend: There is that ‘boy’ of your hubby whom he has known from kindergarten, and now he is 40 and left formal employment on December 31, 2015, to strike out on his own and wants a Sh1 million loan from your man to start that promising business. Unless your man knows that area of business well, in which case he should own 40 per cent of the biashara for his investment, do NOT allow him to drain your family capital to ‘bail out my buddy.’
The drunkard: Drunkard pals are also fellows you should fight to exorcise from your man’s life. You know them. They call, and your man dashes out of the door to the local. Others have cars - they hoot, and your guy makes like lickety-split for destinations unknown, only to show up in the wee hours or even dawn looking like something the full hyena feasted on, and then left half unchewed on your front door. Be violent towards the drunk, if need be, verbally or otherwise, but get rid of him before he drags mister down into the liquid depths.
The smooooth friend: That swift-talking, sharply dressed, silver-tongued, cologne-scented player with the faaasst silver Subaru Impreza, who seems to leave a quick impression on the younger ladies and your hubby seems to look up to, and even adore a little. This chap is very dangerous, and will be the wing-man when need be who introduces your man to a clande or even that prolific goal scorer who does sympathy passes, aka sex hand-me-downs, for your man to put into the net. Best way to get rid of this one? Make him think he has a chance with you. Then tell your man, ‘I think Don is trying to get it on with me.’ The thing with sub-branch chairmen of #TeamHyena is that they cannot help the drool, and the loll of their tongues. Your hubby will see the saliva as Don checks you out next time (after you led him on), and withdraw his papers from the fishy Fisi Sacco.
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