My First 3D Experience (and No, it ain’t a threesome)! Othith Hat? etc.

Sections of the article you are about to read may contain coarse, violent and sexually suggestive language. Reader discretion is advised.

‘I'd like to take a few seconds to appreciate all the tall, attractive, athletic guys out there: You’re one of the reasons I’m convinced being gay was my birth right, well done!’ – C. Mutahi.

The Kasarani Stadium is a blend of blue, green and white going by the garb fans have donned in support of their teams this afternoon. I grudgingly allow Samson (hereinafter referred to as Sam) to mount the hand woven straw hat with the inscription “Nyathi Sirkal Ok Mul” (The Government’s baby is untouchable) on my head. He beams like it’s some sort of achievement. The things we do for men! I soon learn it is locally referred to as an Othith hat. I put on my stunners lest one of my colleagues or men from my past sees me here - It’s bad for my ratings you know - but with the hat’s green strands dangling ridiculously making me look like a clown, I decide to remove the glasses. The referee blows his whistle to signify the beginning of the second half of the match. The GOR Mahia/Sirkal players tackle the ball skillfully across the Stadium’s field towards the goal post but the Ingwe/AFC team in swift retaliation save themselves from a goal making some women in blue and white striped tops shirts ululate at the far corner of our row. Sam is clad in a black T-Shirt written ‘Luo Inside’ with a full simulated logo typical of Intel products. The shirt accentuates his broad masculine chest that is a subject of regular workout. His right bicep protrudes from the sleeve of the T-shirt almost revealing his barbed wire ink. He reeks of a musky manly scent in an environment that is largely full of sweaty scents. Off the record: I know I have been told in the past Mwanaume ni Jasho na Madeni (A man is sweat and debts). It is in those moments I have always walked away leaving the whiff of my designer perfume praying to Jesus that a good man should find these people and give them a talk on foul smell. I’ve pitied their girl/boy friends (if they even have any). In the past we’ve agreed that a zega man cannot be black, gay and poor. Now throw in foul smell, bad attitude and being broke in there! Make up your mind and pick a worthy cause! That aside, when my concentration is back from the loud Ingwe girls to the pitch, a GOR Mahia fan donning a green wig and the back of his green T-shirt written “Wuod K’Opere” has stood up in front of me blocking my view. I seek Sam’s attention and he straight away bends to hear me.

‘Babe, I can’t see. He’s blocking my view.’ I whisper to him. He takes a deep breath and calls him by the name on his shirt requesting him to sit down as I’m also trying to watch the match.

“Leave me alone Faggot!” He retorts studying Sam intently. Sam removes his left hand that was resting behind my back and leans forward.

“What did you call me again?” An infuriated Sam asks.

“You heard me.” He responds matter-of-factly.

He’s a very dark, petite young man but with a developed body frame. He has marks on his face that I immediately suspect are from bar brawls or regular violence but were he to take his life a bit more seriously he’d almost be handsome.

“Now listen to me you motherfucker. Just because you love D!ck doesn’t mean the rest of us are in your cock sucking business. Who do you think you are, eh? Now you better sit your ass down because I have no time to argue with people who can’t think beyond the length of their d!cks or depths of their assholes for a game I’ve paid for!” Sam responds to him making me and the other fans within earshot be like: 

He’s formed a fist and wants to make his way to where Sam and I are seated. Sam stands in an instant and grabs the collar of his neck with his sturdy right hand. I reach out for his left arm urging him to leave him alone. He’s breathing fire. Sam’s tall and muscular frame is intimidating and soon everyone around us urges him to leave the boy alone citing that he’s always like that. Sam looks at my direction and reconsiders shoving the vulnerable thing aside making him topple over but one of his friends grabs him and urges Sam to spare him. Sam (still incensed) takes his seat. No sooner has he sat down than AFC scores an allegedly disputed goal. Everything happens so fast that the whole stadium is soon in a mess with bottles flying all over the place and women screaming. Sam urges me to follow him. Everyone is trying to make their way down the terraces to the field. ‘Take my hand!’’ He says to me. I’m still processing the just ended episode of K’Opere’s faggot incident but before I can tell him that it would look awkward, he’s grabbed me by my shoulder and urges me to run with him with our heads slightly low. It’s at that point I realize it was an order not a request. I oblige until we get to the car. In the far distance, I can still hear teargas canister blasts that are typical in Nairobi’s downtown streets at dusk when the County Council askaris (officers) are engaged in running battles with hawkers. There are also chants in Dholuo but the voices are off key. My heart is racing. Since he drives a stick, his left hand occasionally pats my right thigh when he’s changing gears. It’s a very quiet drive back to the city centre.

*******

Behind The Scenes

1. I’ve been watching the NEWS lately and there are a few things that I can’t help but comment on. No, I won’t talk about the 14-year old who gave birth to triplets the other day for obvious reasons (my recent virginity loss confessions) plus she’s covered under Article 43(3) of the constitution. However these two men who signed an agreement to share one woman is an intriguingly debatable issue. I'm sure this may not be a first but just because it’s been highlighted, it becomes a controversy. You should see the agreement I once drafted with an Ex. to ensure our roles in the relationship were distinctly spelt out with no surprises. It even had a whole section on whose responsibility it was to ensure that protection and lubricant was available, money and even a clause on terminating the relationship. It was our own version of Christian Grey and Anastasia Steele’s Dominant/Submissive contract in E.L James’ Fifty Shades of Grey. One of the men opined, ‘I love her for real and I was ready to do anything for her even if it meant sharing her with another man.’ He has since lost his job as a butcher and has gone into hiding citing threats to his life. A lawyer in a press interview said that polyandry is more abnormal than illegal since the Laws that govern marriage in Kenya do not expressly forbid it. Another counsel says that if the parties involved are able to show that polyandry has been their custom then it’s fine but added that he doesn’t know of any African community that does that. I endeavored to look at Article 45(5)(b) of the Constitution which if paraphrased say that marriage can be recognized if it follows a set of traditions, religious practices, personal or family law as long as those practices do not violate the law. Of course the local community in their usual element like their Homophobic counterparts responded harshly saying that they should be taken to court. Words like uncouth, untraditional, unbiblical and against the holy books were also cited! Okay, I shall pause here and in my own version try to throw my weight behind Jesuit Priest Luigi Taparelli’s concept of social justice. Kenya is a society where it’s largely favorable to the men folk to marry as many wives as they can without being questioned. We live in times women competently run for the same jobs as men, drive machines that were once considered male so now that one of them has entered into a contract with two men isn’t it a tenet of social equality? I am not a cynic. Maybe I’ve finally found my call to be a moral nihilist but I personally don’t see the harm now that the tables have changed. It’s like the culturally accepted marriage between women in some Kenyan communities.  Point a gun into my head, choke me with D!ck even but I’m still convinced that it is gay in so many levels then you still end up telling me that being gay is a white man thing? It’s unnatural in the African community? Kindly school me some more.

2. On Hannah Montana Miley Cyrus, I’m depressed. Only time will tell whether she wins me back in the fold. Bitch doesn’t even have an a** but twerked her way into emphasizing her stardom a few days ago making the VMA’s literally about her. This event ladies and gentlemen is where Britney Spears and Madonna shared a passionate girl to girl smooch a decade ago. I’ve been tempted to share the picture/video but since I’m a McGill noticee person with vested interests in Nashville, Tennessee and re-blogged on an international level including the Vatican (I’m sure some holy father is praying for me and my lost soul), I abandon that thought. And what's with sticking out her tongue like some animal on heat? So grinding on Robin Thicke’s frontal is now some sort of trophy? Miley may be smiling all the way to the bank but there are things famous people do in the moment and have to live with them forever. MJ much? However, I admit I finally learnt a new word this week: Twerk. To those at sea like me, it’s locally referred to as Bend Over. In gay circles, that is something you only do in the confines of a thoroughly secured room, your eyes tightly shut waiting for it to go in. Oops! TMI.

3. On Tuesday during my coffee break, I was meeting my friend Sage just a few blocks from the office to be introduced to his new boyfriend. Whoa! Aren’t those two in love (or lust)! I must salute him on one thing. He always has taste when it comes to men. Ever met one of those guys – you are definitely hotter than them – but they are just intimidating with their refined personality and presence? No? Once again I got asked why the F*** a pretty thing like me is still single? Thankfully, someone’s phone buzzed and by the time he came back I’d successfully steered the conversation to how skillfully carrot cakes in this place are done. Is it just me or what’s with lovebirds wanting everyone to join then in that emotional co-dependent shitstorm we call relationships!

*******

I make a call as I walk into the 20^th Century plaza that houses IMAX Cinema at about a quarter to six in the evening. ‘I’m downstairs, coming up shortly.’ I say. I’m dressed in a white T-shirt and a pair of denim nudie pants I bought at Gikomba Market sometime back on impulse when looking for biking accessories. What? I’m a good boy besides why leave something that accentuates my butt and still makes me look decent? I take the left turn; briefly look at the movie poster along the stairs until I reach the busy ticketing and waiting area. I look around. Mmm! Nairobi has fine men! I finally locate him at the counter paying for the tickets. He’s in a purple striped shirt tucked into some fitting Khaki pants that show his bubble butt. I stand a few meters behind him until he’s done. He turns scrolling on his phone. He doesn’t notice me immediately until I block his way. He raises his head. The top two buttons on his Daniel Hechter shirt are open showing little of his chest hair. His sharp eye locks with mine instantly before he grabs me into a hug (Not the dude hug). As always, he smells heavenly! He looks at his watch and suggests we go get some popcorn. I’m loosely carrying a pullover just in case it gets chilly later. A slim teenage boy rushes past me hitting my hand making the pullover fall. He apologizes profusely as he bends to pick it for me. ‘Watch where you going!’ Sam reprimands him as he grabs it from him. Poor thing. He doesn’t hand it back to me but hurls it on his broad shoulder before he starts cruising me ‘You look different, as in good different. We should be meeting more on weekends when you are not all official and bossy. I barely recognized you!” He says. “Thanks babe.” I supply giggling like a teenage girl who’s just been asked out by the college hunk on a Prom date. 

We walk into the dimly lit cinema hall. He leads the way. At some point just after the ramp we are given 3D (where D is just for Dimension and not what some of you were thinking) glasses. I casually put them on when I trip nearly losing my balance. I remove them to avoid further embarrassment and humbly follow my leader up the flight of stairs. We sit almost at the rear. There are previews running. I put on my glasses but nothing seems to be working. Sam is trying hard to suppress a laugh but he fails miserably. See, in as much as I’m all old, cultured and opinionated, I’m still a boy when it comes to new things. For instance the first time I boarded a plane. I was so fidgety struggling to catch views from the window until the gentleman seated on the window seat next to me offered to swap seats to my advantage and offer some brief class on what happens that thousands of feet high. So being my first time to watch a 3D flick, you can imagine my agony. My Aha moment was when a lady’s voice finally directed the audience to put on their 3D glasses. Wooooow! I muttered to myself grinning from ear to ear as I sipped my chilled bottle of Sparletta. Sam was busy munching away his popcorn and occasionally leaned over to ask me whether I was comfortable. The only thing I think we were missing was a Maasai Shuka at least to cover our legs as we secretly hold hands underneath. Isn't that what happens in movies?

Soon the movie started. It was a Sci-Fi flick, lots of violence no nudity though except one of those forced kisses. I’d had some very wild hopes on watching nudity in 3D. Be that as it may, I felt like I was in a totally different universe. What were inventors of 3D high on? Can I buy these glasses for my Tely at home? Can I watch NEWS in 3D e.g. feel like I’m seated next to Dan Mwangi as he reads business News? (Please don’t tell him. From my online stalking, I think he’s a devout Christian) The Lady seated on my right kept fidgeting and shouting Oh My! Like she was experiencing an orgasm especially when missiles were coming right to our faces! At some point I removed the glasses and the screen was plainly blurry. Even my screen at home would give this a run. It was just funny seeing the way people’s heads kept tossing and leaning uniformly like they were being remote controlled. Let me just say at the end of the evening, I was one technology wiser. I think

“Did you enjoy yourself?” He asks me as we are walking out of the cinema hall (He’s still dangling my sweater). My smirk sells me as I respond to him. “Watch out for that step.” He warns. Once we’ve dropped the glasses at the container outside, we run into one of his friends who’s expecting someone. He maintains a solid handshake with this bespectacled guy and introduces me. My heart is at rest. No competition here. “Would you like some ice cream Cole?” He asks. I’m feeling shy because this new friend of his hasn’t been considered. “I won’t mind.” I respond in the usual Mutahi modesty. He heads to the ice cream bar leaving us standing awkwardly with his friend. “So, Cole what is it that you do?” The stranger asks me. “I’m an ICT consultant.” I reply. “Oh a Techie I see. I’m an Auditor with…”. He confidently tells me. “Sweet, it’s my pleasure to meet you.” I tell him. Sam is back holding two cups of ice cream. He hastens the conversation between him and his Deloitte friend and we are soon on our way outside. ‘Put on your sweater, it’s chilly’. He says handing it over to me.

Just to bring you up to speed. Remember our Monday conversation on Journeys? Well, unlike me Sam is openly out to his family. Yap. His mother accepted him after a period of deep soul searching. During that time he had had to crash at his best friend’s digs. His dad passed on when he’d just finished university. His sister, the only other surviving sibling is a pretty girl who thinks I’m cute and witty - well, that’s according to Sam ever since we met for a quick evening catch up and she had to come pick her set of house keys from Sam. I even recall after our first date meeting, I’d urged him to drop me at Prestige, off Ngong Road to catch a cab home. He didn’t heed to my request saying that his father had raised him with strict instructions that in case he picks his girlfriend, he has to ensure that she’s dropped where she was picked. No derailments. I’d raised my eyebrows in protest saying I wasn’t a girl. Of course at the time the departed man never knew his son had no interest in women. But I’ve since got on with the program. Am I his boyfriend? No.

My decisions when it comes to men are largely not informed. There was this time I left town on Saturday Sunday at 1a.m. after a great night clubbing and travelled through three counties with a man (later turned boyfriend) I’d just met the day before just to get laid? Then there’s my first and probably longest relationship. Griffin. High School classmate turned sweetheart that spilled post High School. He was all macho and the face of all and sundry evil deeds in school. Being seen with him made my life worthwhile, Oh! *Pats his chest with closed eyes* Have I even told you of my first date in a Mosque? I’m not so out there but Oh Boy, haven’t I done some pretty disturbing things for my time! Don't even give me that look, I'm not exactly a virgin! These and more are some of the more personal and intimate conversations we’ll be sharing in the remaining seven months on T.S.R babies. I have since decided to continue supporting my favorite club MUFC (where C is for Champions) from the confines of my house or the stools of Club Bettyz. I know I love living on the edge but I will never again be seen  at a Sirkal studded stadium. It’s just dangerous when you are loyal to a team that riots when they lose, rampage when they draw and revel destructively when they win after paying homage to the late Tom Mboya’s statue on Moi Avenue. *Waits for insults*

*******

I am licking my ice cream seductively. Sam occasionally steals glances my direction and shifts his concentration back on the road. I know I’m giving him problems because we have a past with ice cream. I look outside and I’ve no idea where we are going but then he’d said we’ll do a quick dinner before he drops me home. He makes a series of turns and stops at a huge black gate. The gate is opened by a tall uniformed gentleman whose face I can’t make out due to the cap he’s putting on revealing a finely built residential complex. Must be one of his friends. I think to myself. The compound is very quiet and serene with crickets whistling in the distance. Feels homely. Once we enter the place, I sense it’s deserted. We walk through the hallway into a spacious and brightly lit living room playing some soft jazz. I start scanning the portraits and wall hangings when a beautiful African woman with a polished accent greets and hugs Sam. I’m confused. So he’s married? He responds to the embrace and when they are done the lady looks at Sam expectantly waiting for him to introduce his guest. “Mum, this is my friend Cole.”  He says.

My mind is now as alert as morning wood. Fuck! 

 Peace Out. XOXO

 

Cole Mutahi.

A Journey I Admire from a distance…

‘Show me the man you honor, and I will know what kind of man you are.’ - Thomas Carlyle.

Last week after I left T.S.R I went to my college to defend my research project. Guess what? It was successful and I do hope for a D a.k.a Distinction. I did mention it screwed my brains out for 2 months or so, right? Well, that’s done and since I’m seeking advice from the Vanderbilt hunk, I feel I’m on the right track. Anyway, that’s beside the point. On my dedication page, I dedicated the whole works to my mother…in memoriam. It is in that regard that I shall pause here and note that exactly a year ago today, one Stephane - an ardent TSRian, friend and close confidant never woke up in his sleep. I do observe a minute’s silence in honour of his memory…

*****

Last Thursday, yours truly was added to Bryant McGill’s Public List of Aspiring People. Mr. McGill is an American Author, Speaker and Activist in the field of Self – Development, Personal Freedom and Human Rights. ‘I do feel humbled to be in your list of aspiring people. Thanks’ Were my sentiments in a quick rejoinder to the renowned author. The crux of this means myself and other individuals are urged to stop aspiring and start being as the world needs us. I get to benchmark with diverse and likeminded people. Small strides but awesome in a special way. The late Stephane would say, ‘Cole, you must be doing something right.’

I’ve been hesitant on this but I may as well intimate to you that this blog has about 7 months to go. I’m intending to adopt a more personal style in the coming days e.g. my struggles as a zega man, dreams, marriage (Oh LAWD!), coming out (??), boyfriends, milestones I’ve made et al. The status quo must be upset right. No?

*****

So, last week Wentworth Miller in a very passionate and carefully worded letter made it all clear that he’s out and proud. Okay. First things first, gay men: I hope you popped champagne to that while the women who’ve always made him a subject of their fantasies at some not so godly approved hours may as well have sipped their whiskey or scotch into oblivion - You lost this one bitches! I however still have reservations with the way foreign media had to report his age. Really guys? What's wrong with you? You don’t go about telling everyone in the world a gay man’s age. It’s against the code in a community where once someone hits the big 3, the volatile man market presents odds against him but well, like a finely matured gay man, Mr. Miller has kept well (No beer gut going on, face still awesome etc.) so on behalf of other gay men, I disregard reports on his age in entirety.

My point however is not on Miller’s coming out. Yeah, anyone with a keen eye would notice that there was no major sex/kissing with a girl scene that featured him in Prison break. I mean, it was a penitentiary. You people have heard of Anal Rape stories about these places. I just hope this cute hunk of a man never had to be the one to bend over to pick the soap. Oops. Focus Cole. In Mariah Carey’s ‘We belong together’ music video he carefully acts the part. No kissing. Nothing. 

So you now hate him because he kisses boys? There lies your problem. Take a seat. The letter is brief and to the point. Doesn’t skirt around issues and the timing is spot on just after the Russian athletes PDA in Moscow. Lesson learnt: He came out for a good cause. I have opined here and in other fora where I’ve interacted with out and proud homosexuals that Coming Out is a journey that a gay man has to go through. I’m still on this voyage. Lots of us are. Maybe I’ll never have to. Maybe I will. If your journey is cut short by someone outing you for their own selfish interests then that’s just unfortunate. However, the good thing is that they rarely get to keep you. It shows how… personal divine this journey is. It is against this backdrop that I salute the celebrities and renowned personalities whose coming out has been on an incremental trend in recent days. From Anderson Cooper to Frank Ocean, Jason Collins to wrestler Darren Young, Denis Nzioka to Leonard Mutisya and now Wentworth Miller, call it the New Normal but it shows that the journey cuts across the board and shows how human the whole gay subject is. Anytime someone comes out, I’m happy for his journey not because I have someone new face to drool over when pleasuring myself on dry days but because they just made the journey more bearable and/or easier. Took them time but they sure got there. The journey continues…

 

See you on Thursday; we talk about 3D – where D stands for Dimension!

Cole Mutahi

Perhaps What You Need is an Ivy League Qualification (Then a Man)

There’s a new man in my life. The concierge tips his hat as I walk into the sprawling space that defines the Intercon foyer. I slightly nod my head in acknowledgement with a broad smile to recognize his aptitude. The establishment is slightly busy but in a decent way. The artificial lighting is grandiose despite the illuminating sun I’ve left outside. I make my way to the raised waiting vestibule. I take a seat in one of the antique chairs, look at my wrist and appreciate I’m on time. He always likes that. I fish out my phone from my jacket. I make a mental note of the luxurious wall hangings and works of art as I wait for my call to be answered on the other end. ‘I’m at the waiting lobby.’ I say then I stash my phone away…

******

Behind The Scenes

 BTS 1: Whoa! Haven’t I missed you? I’m itching with desire to share a lot of things. Did I tell you about the Karuru falls experience at the Aberdares in details? I don’t think I did because the last time I was here, I was one furious bitch but hey, it’s all in a day’s work right? There is also my first time experience watching a 3D flick in a cinema with a gentleman (fans himself). He’s just been spot on maybe I should turn tables and pursue him. OMG what about the  lunch date with a Chinese man at a place where waiters were absurdly insane for tips, no? Foreign men! *Rolls eyes* Let’s do this: How about I get my thoughts organized then we’ll try make up for the lost time. I guess I now have time on my hands until December (where I already have a cliff hanger to end the writing season) so I’ll endeavor to feed you with my escapades and see whether we make a lesson out of it. Tarry a second, I will be out of jurisdiction for a substantive part of next month but you’ll be in very capable hands. Someone wants to unmask me on my own turf. Yeah babies you will love him I’m sure.

BTS 2: In the recent past my trips to the theater have been on an incremental trend. From Birthday Suite, Killing time, For Colored girls who have considered suicide when the rainbow was enough (I’m still reeling in the honor of having met the Environmental minister in this one), Backlash etc. I’m no expert but my point is thespians in Kenya are doing us proud. The local arts are just so bold lately. Broadway material even! I urge you to spend some moments visiting the theaters sometime, take your baby (beau that is) there on a random weekend especially those rated Over 18. You can thank me later.

BTS 3: Some weeks ago I was at City Hall’s inoculation centre to get a yellow fever jab. Let me be honest with you. I know I’m a grown ass man but I fear pricks. Okay, that came out wrong. Let me rephrase lest my superbly matured gay orientation comes into disrepute. I dread hospital needles ever since I was very young. So when I finally walked into the room and the nurse administering the prick injection was ready, I told her to be gentle for her own sanity. She was done in seconds and I hadn’t realized. My face: Priceless! While at the clinic’s lobby waiting for the paperwork to be finalized, it really got me thinking. It’s interesting how when I first lost my virginity at 8 I managed to take D without wailing or even fidgeting and! I know I have confessed somewhere in this blog that ‘I can’t sit on it’. The ordeal a pretty boy has to go through. I think if I was to choose between a needle and man meat. The latter would have my total support but then ever had that scenario where you went on a first date, the guy was charming, you took somebody home, pretended to be watching some Queer As Folk before he got all touchy. You responded and the next thing you realize is that you are down on your knees - of course not to thank Jesus for finding him - then just when you have unzipped his pants and his tumescence finally springs free you start thinking Oh No, I’m protective of my man pussy! Okay, I don’t know where this is really heading to; let’s go to the business of the day, I got a project that has literally screwed my brains for the past two months and I got to go present after this! (Remind me to finish this next time)

******

David and I are seated at the Tribeka lounge on a random Tuesday afternoon (Note: I’m supposed to be at work) He’s having his pint as I sip my cold glass of tonic with some lemon pieces in it as we try catch up through small talk. The conversations range from me asking him why he was calling me the previous Sunday at midnight saying that he will marry me in the future to him talking about his ailing mother and ex who’s been hounding him. Men! I look at my watch and realize it’s 15 past five. Sensing my discomfort. ‘Babe, you want us to leave?’ he asks me. I agree almost immediately. He signals the waiter who responds immediately. Guys who at least observe working hours have started streaming in and so the place is getting busy. ‘Your bill has already been settled.’ He says. David thinks it’s one of his drinking buddies. When the waiter finally points the generous stranger who took charge of our check; ‘Isn’t that your boss babe?’ David asks. I almost piss in my pants. It’s the good Dr. Fuck!

*******

…I’m at a disadvantage here. I think to myself while waiting for him to come pick me. Is there a problem? Shouldn’t we have just done whatever is to be done at the office? What did I do wrong? But then this is a five star place. I’ve never been here before, maybe it’s nothing. A tall, dark and almost handsome waiter interrupts my wandering thoughts. I’ve been sent to come and accompany you to Mr. Tosh’s table. I almost choke on saliva. He’s being as modest as he always is. He’s a Dr. for crying out loud! My conscience wildly affirms. He leads me through a corridor that’s donned with pieces of Art whose price tags must have to be obscene. I notice a couple having their lunch at a deserted Bhandini restaurant. He’s probably rented the whole place for her. My conscience opines. The Speaker of the Senate is in a deep conversation with an affluent looking female companion on some table. I mean the bag is shouting Dior, no? We pass a banquet like looking area and walk into an open setting next to the swimming pool. He’s busy keying in on his iPad while talking on the Bluetooth device on his left ear. His long fingers that I have since concluded are a subject of my fantasies on a dry day are as always well manicured. The gold ring on his marriage finger glitters in the Thursday afternoon sun. He reeks of some not so cheap cologne. It’s a mild male scent. Designer I’m sure. As I approach the table he rises steadily, I notice the polished buckle of his belt. It’s a Gucci. My conscience warns me to get my eyes off that area. He shakes my hand motioning me to take a seat which the waiter has pulled for me. He takes his seat. His soft hand plants some not so godly ideas in my head. Don’t you just love a man with beautiful manners! ‘Do me a quick email, I’ll float it to her later today then furnish you with a response ASAP. Thanks.’ He disconnects his call. ‘Sorry Collins, thanks for coming. I hope I never interfered with your program or anything.’ He says in his deep American English brogue. ‘Not at all Dr. Anthony, I’m sure you summoned me here for lunch.’ I respond grinning and he smiles almost immediately. ‘You are the one person who insists on calling me Doctor in the office and now everyone seems to be taking a cue from you.’ He observes. ‘You earned it daktari and I have to recognize that.’ I respond matter-of-factly and he instantly beams. His plastic smile is priceless. How comes toothpaste companies haven’t made an offer?  I notice he only has a tall glass of some untouched white guava juice. He says he’d already eaten at the conference they were hosting from earlier with visiting guests and since he still had time and food had been catered for, he felt we can use the afternoon to patch up the work plan document in a neutral environment. I excuse myself to go to the buffet area from earlier. He rises! OMG I’m honestly reconsidering my dating patterns from today. I mutter inside to myself. The waiter accompanies me to the immaculately laid out buffet area we’d passed earlier. I see an exclusively Kenyan section and that’s where we are headed. After showing the waiter what to serve me, I head back to the table where he’s seated busy typing away on his gadget. My conscience takes me to the gutter. Admit it Cole, He’s bangable!  But… Fuck. He’s straight and he’s my boss!

Tosh Dr. Anthony* is a 6’2, athletic-bodied (probably from his soft ball interests at Tennessee), light complexioned, well groomed, (did I say tall?) man of African descent. Oh he’s Kenyan. He’s married (yeah, it’s that depressing) to a mixed race Kenyan girl from one of those champagne-sipping-when-welcoming-any-guest families. He equally stems from one of those well known names in the country’s legal system. At 29 he’s already armed with his PhD that is a year and a half old since it was bequeathed on him. A very spot on research consultant he is with a very vibrant social nature. Perhaps it borrows heavily from his mid town Nashville and Houghton Street exposure. He’s one of those privileged guys who never had to hustle for a job like some of us do after High School to chart our way forward through college. In fact (from my little online stalking expertise) I notice from his CV and LinkedIn profiles that while I was graduating High School in 2006, he was attending the Harvard Summer School seminar program on International Law and Human Rights! Jeez he was 22 for Christ’s sake! Oh and from his YouTube videos, someone is very passionate about social Justice, Human Rights and has a very fertile mind in Politics. An alumnus of Strathmore school (The guy scored an A), LSE (Masters in Law, Anthropology and Society), and clench your butts: Vanderbilt University (First degree in Law and his PhD)! Oh and just in passing; the soon to be defunct KSL. Yet he still remains humble and likeable! Honestly how the hell does one become a doctor at 29! He was introduced to me by my boss three months ago and the idea is that I’m to work under with him to ensure a smooth run of the office. He’s one of those guys I instantly clicked with and as soon as I got alone, got out my laptop and sent him a quick email that I’m honored I’ll be working with him. He thanked me almost immediately. ‘Thanks Collins, the feeling is mutual. I’ve heard lots of positive things about you.’ Read a section of the email. Aww!

This new man is probably influencing a lot of my decisions within and without the office in very positive ways. It is from him I got the inspiration to finalize a Degree course I’ve deferred for a year or so. Graduation is later this year. I’ll be turning 25 later this year so if I ever want to be a Doctor by my 29^th birthday then this may as well be a starting point. The dates I’ve had to cancel, the rushed dinners with friends just to rush and go edit that Literature Review paragraph due to some new information etc. It is from these two months I’ve learnt men are at large and won’t go extinct anytime soon.

How big are you?

After some deep soul searching, it is with a very heavy heart that these happenings provoked my thinking. ‘You’re a big shot’, is one of the comments we make when we meet someone we think is successful. In fact, I was very humbled to find out one of you is actually a real shrink recently over dinner. I’m no saint but some of us need to get schooled. I’m talking about the zega men around us who have got nothing to bring to the table other than their massive tools and/or endowed asses. I know in the past I’ve talked about gay diggers, professional students, high maintenance boys’ et al. I’m addressing those guys who sit at Envy or Gypsies and the moment they are aware that the guy they are cruising has actually done something outstanding with their gay selves, they look at him as a potential gold mine and strategies to get him are immediately drafted. The guys who when a guy breaks up with you, throws you out of his apartment along Manyani East road, advises the guard never to allow you in and feels nothing and then you have to locate where a jav is taken. The guys who are given some fare to make it back to the city centre from Westlands after a moment of sex. I even hear there is a French man who gives guys 20 bob to find their way back to the CBD after deflowering ‘em. Is it true? Surely, is it worth it?

Ours is a society when asked how big you are, your mind automatically starts estimating how many inches you have down there when the question only had something to do with the strides you’ve taken in life. We make fun of Hon. Kiraitu Murungi yet he boasts of a First Class in Law at Harvard while we are still stuck at the Hospitality or Beauty course we did eons ago and have never pursued it! We dream of getting cruised by the ilk of DJ CK who's living his life not realizing the guy lost a huge chunk of his youthful life making his billions! We want to be screwed by prime man meat in Karen or Runda but ever noticed you are still a visitor to these places and head back to your dingy one room dungeon that has posters of a shirtless Usher Raymond at the end of the day? Fine, you only date guys who drive a car. Bitch with tremendous respect, when will you also enjoy rummaging your man purse looking for your credit card at a gas station?

If the bar is that high when it comes to choosing successful men when we are in essence needy, what hope is there for that Dandora dude who’s struggling to make ends meet and still makes an effort to look for some man pussy or D? You do know they say when you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree; it will forever live its life thinking it’s stupid.

The curse in being gay in the modern century (forget the crap in Law and these seed sowing preachers) is that the competition is stiff. If you consider your pretty self the submissive partner or ‘honorary woman’, I hate to break it to you (and your therapist) honey, you’ve got to fight just like astute and sublimely talented women like Hon. Gladys Shollei. Same applies if you are the one who does the banging and you think you are the next best gift to bottoms. The days of a guy leaving you in his apartment watching series as he goes to work are spent. I’m particularly more concerned with how a guy you’ve been seeing for a while introduces you when you accidentally run into his boss or one of his professional acquaintances who’s not gay at the mall? What does he associate you with? If he only uses your Romeo or Man Hunt name then it’s a wakeup call.

Upset the Status quo

You may be a top great waiter, great actor, a prolific writing enthusiast, popular as fuck in the zega scene, an office assistant who serves tea to the bosses, a humble young man like yours truly who has the opportunity or goes through the agony of sitting next to a Dr. in a boardroom meeting and see him make the dissenting voices retreat on a document he authored! The status quo must be upset. A fully fledged gay man should never be comfortable. We are attacked from all corners but ours is a society when you build an empire, the gay side is automatically overlooked because everyone not only feels you are a force to reckon with but you can change their life. In as much as I fear growing old, the society releases fine, wet behind the ears pretty boys every year. I don’t want to be one of those characters who realizes when my time in the man market is spent I have nothing to show for it except a senseless disease or living in a ramshackle. Successful people never apologize for their success and that’s why they choose partners who can complement them. All the by the way ass or dick is just a minor distraction for them to get to the ideal guy.

Mr. Dr. Gakeri once mentioned to us in a Law class that Education changes how you perceive almost everything around you. How you think, how you eat, how you relate to people - almost all spheres. I know there are the occasional drop outs that have built their empires e.g. successful businesses and hired educated guys to make them look good. This is because they equally understand the essence. The rest of us who have to struggle to make it in life have no choice but do something about it. The best pride lies in the fact that you have a sore man pussy but it’s on your own terms!

*******

We step out of the Intercon. It’s 3.40p.m. The valet pulls over at the entrance in a silver metallic X5.  He steps out handing Dr. Anthony his keys, comes round the other side where I’m still glued to the car in front of me and is courteous enough to open the passenger door. ‘Please.’ The doctor tells me. I fasten my seatbelt. He engages the gears and we are soon on our way back to the office. He tunes into X F.M and MKTO beams on. I Know Right?

Peace Out!

Next week on T.S.R

“You look different. As in good different. We should be meeting on weekends.” He says as we head to the IMAX popcorn point. 

Cole Mutahi.