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.


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

Friend Zone – A Guys Guide To

What is a “Friend zone” (n)? This is the phrase (I have no idea who should get credit for coining it) that describes the point of the relationship between a male and a female that offers no progression beyond what is – ‘just friends!’ 

And so by extension and association, to “Friend zone” (v) is the act of putting one into this ‘box’ of ‘just friends!’ 

Friend zoning can be very frustrating and deflating, especially if the party being friend zoned was hopeful of ‘something more’. To the party ‘friend zoning’, I assume it easier to take in. I, however, doubt it’s just that easy.

This guide is from the male’s perspective so it may not be applicable for the females and is by no means definitive. All of the points mentioned here are all from experience – not just mine, but of many guys. You could view it as a preemptive approach to being ‘friend zoned’. Like they say, There are many ways to kill a rat – I subscribe to the method of making sure the rat is not born! 

So here goes – Friend zone – A Guy’s Guide To 

Be nice, be very nice

I could end this guide with just this one rule as all the others actually branch from this but I suppose I need to expound on it. 

You’ve heard it all before that ladies like nice guys, that’s always on their checklist. Truth is, they don’t like nice guys as partners … as husbands and best friends … Yes, just not boyfriends – this is a preserve of the ‘bad boy’. How they expect the bad boys to somehow end up being ‘nice guys’ once they are married is a mystery. Remember the line, “I can change him”? Well, we all know how that turns out.

 I have a theory on this, I think they prefer “bad boys” because ‘consistent disappointment is easier to handle than the occasional ones’ that nice guys come with, no matter how minute they maybe. Nice guys present them with a high standard that once they subscribe to, even a little tardiness will come off as a colossal disappointment. Nice guys are, more often than not, reliable and hence the slightest whiff of “disappointment” is cataclysmic by comparison. So you get them loving the ‘bad boys’ through the hurts and love they do. “Mr. Wrong” by Mary J. Blige ft Drake shows just how much they hold on, despite their knowing how wrong it is.

Being “Nice, very nice” will inevitably put you in the friend zone – guess who they’ll run to when they are in the hurting phase of her relationship? Preemptive strike One!

 Make the lady’s folks (brothers, sisters even parents) like you

As you can tell, this is only possible if you are “Nice, very nice” and genuinely so. By genuine I mean actually having genuine concern about her well-being. Being in good terms with her folks all but guarantees that she’ll friend zone you. Going against the folks is a mark of independence so as much as she may like you, the fact that her folks like you, kind of forces her not to consider you. Preemptive strike Two!

Her boyfriend should be your friend too … so much he considers you “safe” to hang out with her. This is a hard one and is advisable that you don’t go making it happen. If it happens, flow with it. If not, leave it at that. Point is you being a comfortable enough friend to her that she can mention you to him and he doesn’t get worried. This is not only a preemptive strike but safety net for you – you don’t want to be stabbed.

 Always be there for her, check up on her dating… how she’s doing, they are doing… be a good listener. – “Always” is a big word but it only means whenever you can, you be there for her when she calls on you. Especially in her low moments. Hang out, movies, coffee and stuff doesn’t hurt. This is just being “Nice, very nice” in detail. She can’t consider, at least not usually, you as more than ‘just a friend’ when you do all this. Preemptive strike Four!


 1. As much as she wouldn’t go out with you, she won’t take you going out with another quite well. She may become hostile to your girlfriend but maybe she’ll like her. No way of predicting this – just prep for both the best and worst.

 2. Never ever say you like them IN ANY WAY, SHAPE OR FORM. If she were a status update, don’t like it! Say you “don’t dislike” … something just not that you like her. That will take you from ‘friend zone’ to outcast … enemy territory even!


 The more perceptive of you will have picked up that this is another way of outlining what NOT to do if you do NOT want to be ‘Friend zoned’. So, take it how you see fit for you. This is not an exhaustive list, just what the ‘experiences’ common to me.

 An excerpt from an upcoming book, “A Guy’s Guide To Life” by EveryGuy for Everyguy … available soon … in your mind! ha!


This excerpt is borrowed from the blogger’s pseudo-journal. It was originally written in May 2010 on the back pages of the said, fake journal. Why the blogger decided it’s time to air out her ******* in the www remains a question never to be answered (so is the fact that the blogger is referring to herself in third person…hmmm).

Caution: You will notice that there is no particular flow of thought in this piece. Also, the over-usage of certain words. The reason is revealed somewhere in the middle of this rather unnecessarily long blog. Please do not think any more (as opposed to less) of the blogger as such is kind of person that she is.

Date: May 7 2010

Time: 1.56am (GMT +3)

So, I can’t sleep. I just stupidly wrote an inbox to *Stantlaus. I hope he still has his sense of humour and won’t read too much into it (please! please God!!!). I have currently woken up (got out of my bed), taped papers on top of my door frame so that no one can be disturbed by light from the room. And if someone gets curious and actually comes down, they will stumble on to the chair at the door giving me ample time to duck into bed and pretend I fell asleep……with the light on. Current track playing on my phone is Broken by Lifehouse. You gotta love rock. It’s so on point.

The last time I actually wrote was I think back in high school. When I was cooler and actually had a head on top of my neck. I feel empty these days. I have no more care for the world. Most of the time I’m like a zombie. I am purely existing. I’m not living. I guess when you keep all your issues bottled up, if it doesn’t explode one day, then they start eating you from the inside. I think that’s what is happening to me now. I haven’t had my moment of bursting out with pent up emotions since the last time I stole my mum’s phone in 2003 and I managed to link all that to my fear of failing exams; amidst crying and torrendous flow of mucus. haha

ok, he's a bit over the top

If I don’t go to sleep tonight, I’m gonna research on the effects of Panadol Extra and Mara Moja cuz I am the Queen of  Sleep. It has never evaded me!! Ama it’s tryna be a Makmende? Ngoja. Itajua nani ni Makmende.

you really don't want to mess with this guy

I actually went out of my way one day and bought a journal. It majorly was cuz halfway through my Mizizi class I realized people really did take the whole “write in your journal” directive in the Mizizi book quite seriously. So I went and bought myself a really fancy and expensive journal. It was all for bragging rights so that it looks like that I too, was with it. If you could see the journal now, I have started writing from the back; song lyrics, places I’d like to visit; things to do (when i can still remember where i wrote them). Just basically non-feelings stuff. I’m not really good at documenting my feelings of a class. I really do not give it much thought. Throughout the class, I’m probably daydreaming and wishing the class would end. So asking me to write about what I felt about the class, I’d probably have more to say about the people in the class and my opinion about them. Not what the class was all about. This also happened when I did my I Choose Life thing. The only time I wrote in that journal was when they said they’d collect them the following day and it had to have something. I quickly picked random dates and wrote 2 lines on each page, jumping like 3 pages to look like I really did write them in different days….with different colors of biros!!

It’s now 2.18am, 22 minutes late. No sleep, no phonecall from one Stantlaus who I was hoping for some reason, he’d see my message on FB and actually pick up the phone and call me. OMG! Girls can be soo ahead of themselves. To begin with, Stantlaus is not an FB addict. He checks it once every millenium and even if he sees the message now, why would he call? I’m not his chic nor his love/lust interest. In fact according to him, I’m the most don’t care person in the whole planet. The other night I told him I do have a heart and emotions and he scoffed. Yes! Apparently Africans do scoff (I used to think it’s a white man’s thing. We miros just click (nkt) and move on). But I have a problem. There was this book I read once (fiction) and the heroine of the book is quoted saying “I’m so desperate for intimacy, I could date a tree”. You know, if I don’t watch out, I will be seen somewhere at Uhuru park, with two cups of coffee. One in my hand and the other, I would periodically pour on the roots of the tree. Yes. We willbe on a coffee date and I will be having a conversation with it. I think I should go to the Arboretum…you know, expand my options….(Please note that I am not desperate for intimacy. I love quote though)

But seriosly, I haven’t been in a serious relationship in almost 3 years now. In the begining I was still healing from my last relationship(I broke up with him but i’m still scarred by it. Long story for another day) and I’ve been using that excuse for soo long it’s now 3 years. But i think i’ve just become lazy. Loving someone can be effortless, but the committment to the love, well, that’s the mother. I’m not ready for all that hullaballoo…read, I’M VERY LAZY. So, these days if a man captures my eye, I’m busy imagining if he’d make a good husband. If you don’t look like husband material, you’re out. And these assessments usually last for as long as 10 seconds. Yup. That fast. It’s a bad thing, I know. I should probably give the guy a chance to properly introduce himself, get to know his name at least then dismiss him.

You have to understand where I’m coming from. Everyone my age is busy poppin babies and getting married. I am under A LOT of pressure here! There’s is no time for long term relationships. You’ve got only 10 seconds to make it happen and boom! onto the next one. Too many clocks be ticking. Eggs will be drying up soon, time waits for no man/woman and quite frankly, I am not going to allow myself to be a spinster while everyone else around me is married. Then I’m left there to compete with beautiful youngins in campus who are all that and a bag of chips. I happen to be well aware of the fact that the beautiful ones have already been born and they are waaaay younger than me and so the competition is so on!!!. Hold up! Need an FB break. Will be right back.


i’m supposed to compete with her….? give me a break!


Ok, NO MESSAGE! That boy is clearly very much asleep. So back to my story. If I could just meet someone right now who is perfect for me, and I for him, I’d be a content girl.


he...would be fine

But apparently you don’t meet such men on the rave. My gal told me that our age, we have already met our husbands. When I look back and think of all the menn I have met in my life, I’m a bit worried for myself. She should have told me this when I was 12. I would have travelled all over the world, busy meeting men, just to ensure that I have literally covered all corners of the earth and kept my options wide open…and vast ;)

I’ll stop here. Lemmie listen to some more rock. Maybe sleep will give up on being so macho and come home. Plus I’m soo hungry. Well I do hope I can pick this up someday. I really enjoyed this though

Time: 2.49am

i probably looked like this in the morning but i didn't check to confirm

*not his real name for, well….obvious reasons. We can however question my choice of name

Other posts by the  author can be found at where she pretends to blog.