Nice Guys verses Bad Guys

Nice guys finish last because they put their ladies first. – Anonymous

She was dating a pilot, a very wealthy one at that. She knew he loved her and would do anything for her. He was the perfect boyfriend. He would not even entertain the thought of cheating on her. She knew she was lucky to have him. He did not drink. She knew her competitor was Arsenal, a team he was passionate about about. She could live with that. He was a nice guy.

On few occassions, he would invite me to accompany her girl and him to a rave. I was a friend and colleague to the girl. He was a gentleman, the kind of guy another guy would think girls would date but we all know how nice guys fair on in the dating fraternity. We became good friends, not good enough to be boys but good enough for us to hug the way bros are supposed to hug. Not the way Kemboi hugged that French dude though. That is how the girl you have missed hugs you.

She lived in Ummo. One time, he had gone to visit her and someone unsuccesfully tried to steal his range rover’s side mirror. I do not know how much that thing costs but it must cost the same as a vitz and a year’s supply of fuel. He decided that his girlfriend would not live in an unsafe neighbourhood. Within a month, she had moved to Nairobi West in a fully furnished house. Her birthday was a few weeks away, and she got a car as a present. She was living a better life than her boss. And then she got pregnant!

They say that everyone is an aethiest until she misses her periods. As a guy, I have never understood Aunt Flo. Most girls hate when she visits and if she delays for a week, they get all worried. As someone else said, you know you have grown up when someone tells you she is pregnant and your first response is “Congratulations” rather than “~~isht,~~ what happened?” After telling her congratulations, I had to use a seat to digest what she told me next.

As I was still picking my jaw from the floor, her boyfriend calls me. She whispers he doesn’t know yet. He wants to meet me urgently. That evening, we meet for drinks. Tusker for me, Fanta Orange for him. He tells me that he has reason to believe the love of his life is cheating on him. When he suspected, he asked guards to tell him of people who frequent her place. I was one of them. There was someone else who had spent the night in the house he is paying rent one too many times. He had pictures. I knew him.

The first thing I do when I get home is to call her. “What did you mean you are not sure who the father is?” was my hello. She owns up to cheating on her boyfriend with another colleague of ours. The guy I saw on the photos. I am too angry to talk to her. Her boyfriend was too good a person to be treated that way. I hoped the kid was his.

She tells both of them separately that they are to be dads in about 38 weeks to gauge their reaction. She starts with the pilot who is very excited. He thinks she should move in with him in Karen because his child should have a father figure around. The side dish suggests abortion. And that is when all hell breaks loose. The girl goes ahead and tells him he was the side dish and that the real father of the baby is a rich pilot and other unmentionable insults.

I will never understand women. I do not know what the side dish did, which witch doctors he went to and what they gave him to give to her but he must tell me one day. Within two weeks, the girl had warmed to the side dish that ladies in the office who knew part of the story loathed her. The pilot on the other hand had known the side dish was a colleague of ours, and that sort of put me between a rock and a hard place because I had denied knowing him when he showed me his picture. That as it may, he had bigger problems to deal with. His girlfriend had not picked his calls for three days – as soon as she found out he knew actually – and I was “on leave.” The thing with one lie is that you have to come up with another to cover up for it.

I decided to sit her down and ask about her game plan. Somehow, she had decided to stay with the side dish whom she was not even sure if he loved her. She was not sure she loved him too. He was a bad guy, the pilot was a nice guy. And again, bad had truimphed over nice in this unfair world. At that point, my fist made contact with the wall at a speed that would rival that of light. Something had to be hit and I was not going to hit her. I felt sorry for the guy. Just then, the side dish interrupted our meeting. We did not like each other and I never cared. Now, I hated him even more.

“Tell him I will pay back everything he has done for you!” was his salutation. I felt that was the joke of the year. His salary was less than the rent the pilot was paying for her every month. The bigger joke was the girl falling for that nonesence. In no time, the pilot was calling. “Tell him we shall pay him everything!” she said, handing over the phone to the side dish as I slapped myself to see if I would wake up. As I left the room, I could hear the insults the side dish was throwing mainly because he had decided to proove he is a man by raising his voice. What surprised me was that she did not stop him. And knowing the pilot, I am sure he just sat thare and listened. A few minutes later, the side dish left in a hurry with the keys of the car the pilot had bought her. Apparently, to return it.

Where is the happy ending part, you may ask? As long as it is a nice guy verses a bad guy, there is none and there will be none. Bad guys win again as nice guys help Jepkosgei in finishing last.

THE DAY’S QUOTES:

1950: I want to show you a night out under the stars by the lake. Wouldn’t that be fine? ~~2012: Here’s a picture of my shaved cock~~. – Anonymous

That is the last [curse word] time I take dating advice from a muscle that pumps blood throughout my body. – Anonymous

I’d suck as a Christian because there’s no way I’m not ending every prayer with “…and please kill the ~~[curse word]~~ out of shitty people.” – Anonymous