When she's perfect but crazy

'Witchcraft is real,' it's been said.

But then so are the crazy ladies.

When you picture the mad woman, the scene that comes to mind is of a shabby, maybe half naked woman, muttering meaningless things in a marketplace as she roams about.

Well, picture this: You are at a black tie (men), evening gown (women) film premier event – and you run into one of the prettiest and brightest ex-college mates from your years in college. Let's call her Dee Dee. Dee Dee was two or three years behind you in college – and she has kept herself very well. She tells you she is in legal practice after you've embraced and sufficiently flattered each other.

"You are ageing very well," she exclaims. "Like a vintage bottle of ..."

"Fine Dom Perignon wine?" you say.

"I was going to say a vintage bottle of quadruple distilled vodka," she says, and you both laugh long and hard.

"Well, Dee Dee," you say, "you are not ageing at all." And you almost mean it.

Her neck has the faintest wrinkle, and the laugh lines around her mouth are more pronounced and that blonde colour in her hair is so bright it must gild a gray hair or two, but so what? Dee Dee is still so similar to the college Dee Dee at the start of millennium  that you remember.  All the boys (you included), and two or three of the girls had the hots for her.

She also has no ring(s) around any of her fingers – her only jewellery is a thin gold necklace that glitters on the light brown skin above the little tight black dress she's in that screams 'elegance' – so either she married and divorced or has never married at all (because women, unlike us men, are not in the habit of removing their commitment rings at cocktails to look single).

Your foreign friend Lex joins you around the post-movie mingle table to make a company of three. You can tell from his eyes and manner that he is immediately smitten by Dee Dee. It does not hurt that she is smart and funny, as well as easy on the eyes. Lex, clever boy, insists we leave the cocktail lobby for the lounge where he gets dinner for us – and drinks, more drinks, and Dee Dee downs a whole bottle of red by herself in silky gulps.

That is when the transformation slowly begins.

From being light and funny, she is now getting intense, and by eleven pm insists not only that we switch off our mobile phones but that we hand them over to her for safe keeping in order not to audio-record what she is about to tell us.

We comply, me out of curiosity to hear her story, and Lex looks like he could eat nails for her. Dee Dee then proceeds to tell the most macabre and fantastic story about the 'real killers of Paul Magu' – you will remember the tragic tale of the Thika family annihilator who was both a classmate and Chess friend of mine – and the climax of her story, after an hour, is that 'Mossad is after me.' I excuse myself with – it's almost midnight and I have a small baby in the house (as if Drago is sitting up at midnight in the living room, waiting for daddy to come home and breast feed him). It is a mid-week evening.

Over the weekend as we watch soccer with Lex, I'll ask him how it went after that with Dee.

'Well, we drove to my flat in Kilimani (he uses Uber as a foreigner) in her car, as I tried to stay focused by ignoring all her bizarre stories.' 'So you got to flex?' I ask Lex. 'You lucky boy!'

But no! As it turned out, Dee said she would sleep in the sitting room on the couch after they had gotten into his bed – her fully clothed, plus shoes – then because his bedroom keys are on the door, she got out and locked him in the bedroom as he slept. The next day he had to yell from his bedroom window before the caretaker broke in to free him.

'Of course Dee Dee had long left, along with my very expensive iPhone which she hadn't returned.'

'So she's a thief?' I say, deeply disappointed.

Lex gives me a note. 'Good morning, Lex. Sorry I've had to go with your phone because mine is being tracked by the MOSSAD!!! But I'll return it by Saturday to the bar counter of that lounge. DD.'

'And?' I ask.

Lex points to his iPphone, charging at the bar counter.

'I understand she was here earlier, handed the phone to the barman, said "Give it to Lex," and left.' Perhaps the Mossad will be after him now.