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.