Do short men make better lovers? - Evewoman
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Girls, try short men they got the real charm

Photo; Courtesy

Of late I have been thinking about Ben. Ben was my college sweetheart, the first sweetheart I ever had. Not the last one, the last one is a story for another day and by the way, he too has a three lettered name. There is something about these men with three lettered names, they are unforgettable! Maybe it’s because their names can be easily pronounced even with a toddler learning to speak.

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My sweet Ben lived somewhere in Eldoret, to be precise Langas estate in a plot known as Tel Aviv. Ben used to study at the Eldoret Polytechnic and was a great Rugby player. I knew Ben was my missing rib the day I first laid my eyes on him.

 He wasn’t tall dark and handsome like the normal ‘Mr. Right’ sought by women. No, my Ben was short, plump and ok, he was handsome too. I met him during the time I had gone to Eldoret for my first industrial attachment.

Even though I used to earn zero shillings during my attachment there, Ben made life bearable for me. My heart was so easy to win those days, chips and chicken and I am all yours. Top it up with snacks and I am ready to walk down the aisle.

Ben knew this too well, he used to invite me to his house, make some chicken and ugali and I was ready to become his wife. All he did when I was around was cook, cook and cook. The good thing was that Langas estate is just at the heart of a market and food was a stone throw away. I had gained a lot of weight then, thanks to Ben.

One time, I had gone to visit him over the weekend as was the norm. I ended up staying there for more than a week, I even forgot that I was on attachment and called in sick. The fare from Langas to the CBD is not a walk in the park for a student earning zero shillings and eating like a pig.

 Little did I know my stay there would act as a farewell to Ben, my sweet Ben. In the middle of the week, students from his college decided to go on rampage over God knows what. I was sitting calmly in his single room when all of a sudden the door flew open and Ben jumped in shutting the door behind him and leaned on it. I looked at him and started laughing thinking he was practising for the forthcoming rugby games until another force started hitting the door behind him.

Before I knew it, Ben had slipped under the bed and the door flew open hitting Ben’s glass coffee table. Two policemen walked in with rungus and before I could even mention a word, they started raining kicks on me. One of them lifted our metal bed and dragged Ben from under the bed then grabbed him using the back of his trouser and rained some slaps on him then carried him out.

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 The other one pushed me out of the room and told me to run and never look back. I took to my heels and got out in time to see Ben being bundled inside a police lorry packed outside. With pain all over my body, I took off only to meet several other policemen kicking people all over the place and they too did not spare my sorry behind.

That’s when I learnt that the college management had called the police to help bring order back to the college after students turned chaotic breaking everything. That my dear friend is how I broke up with my Ben. Its more than ten years now and I have never laid eyes on him. Probably he is somewhere married to another woman. If you are that woman, kindly know that you took what rightfully belonged to me. I have been looking everywhere for him in vain. Ben, if you are reading this today, baby just know that I am sorry for running away. Trust me, not even Rambo could stand the kicks I received on that day. By the way, are you married yet? Just so you know, no one has put a ring on it yet.

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