Confessions: It’s just a one-night stand

Kids cover your ears, this is grown folk business

Let’s set the scene, it’s a Friday night, the salo is in the bank and the money in your Mpesa inaleta stress, inaleta joto, it needs to be spent. You call up your crew. Leo munaserereka. Tight dress on, heels next, makeup cute and simple, several shots of clear liquid later you are ready kuchokoza Nairobi.

You get to the local and sit at your usual table and because you are regulars, the waiters know what to bring. Lots of whiskey, and water because you know, health. Three bottles down and that guy by the bar sipping his beer while trying to virtually murder the Man U players through the TV is looking kinda cute. Okay he is looking really good, and who are you if you don’t approach him.

Shoot our shot is 2019’s theme and hamna wakati wa kupoteza. A quick check of your makeup just to make sure you don’t look like roadkill, a sip of water because no one appreciates bad breath and you’re off. The spirit of your ancestors and the drive of an independent woman propel you forward. You tap Mr Sir on the shoulder and when he turns and gazes at you, you know it’s not the whiskey playing with your optics, this man is actually really gorgeous.

You introduce yourself because mama taught you manners and he does the same. Firm handshake, you like. You sit and strike up a conversation and he participates. It’s going well, you are laughing, he is smiling like a toddler at the sight of unsupervised candy. It's going well, you’ve even forgotten all about your crew.

Minutes turn into hours and before you know it, you’re dirty dancing and your body is on fire. All systems go! You order an Uber and go to his place. We all know what happens next and a few hours later as Mr Sir is snoring, you get your clothes, dial-up an Uber and head home.

You don’t have his number, sure as hell can’t remember his name but you know you had a good time. It was a good night.