It’s Sunday morning. Most ladies in the hostel are busy preparing for church. I would probably be coming back from morning mass around this time on normal Sundays were it not for the lazy bug that bit me. Been stacking laundry for the past 2 weeks; each day I woke up with the intention to wash but excuses are little bitches that kept creeping in the way. Motivated by the thought that I’d get to catch a snooze after washing, I set forth on my mission to cleanse my begrimed garments.

2 hour later I was done and had even extended the same favour to my room and shoes. Ever had one of those days that you decide to wash the dishes alone and end up scrubbing the entire kitchen?

Talk of being “delightfully tired” (finally got to use An Enemy of the People phrase in real life, yay!)I had to make my way across the hostel, down 3 flights of stairs and outside to the hanging-lines quadrangle.

On the corridor, I bump into the weird chic that used to live opposite my room last year. She says a quick hi and I leave her admiring herself in the communal mirror. It’s the second time I’m seeing her this semester and she’s really changed. Her wardrobe is on point, she even started wearing heels and did I mention that I saw her wearing the brightest shade of lipstick?

Either she got a really well-paying firm during her attachment or she got herself a rich boyfriend. I quickly admonish myself for being so judgemental.  Can’t a girl just look good without people jumping into conclusions? I decide to mind my own business and proceeded to go hang my clothes.

10 minutes later, I was done. One task done, my Sunday could officially begin. I meet the custodian basking at the main entrance. We’ve been buddies of some sort ever since I taught her how to use her new smartphone and I decide to engage in the usual “hii mvua inaharibu starehe” kind of banter. We hadn’t even started delving into our weather conversation when she asks me “shosh, kwani wewe hauna kamtu wa kutembelea weekend angalau?” I look at her in bewilderment thinking that perhaps she had minced her words. “Hauna ka-boyfriend wa kukupeleka out?” She confirms.

I’m torn between laughing at her statement and pondering deeply about my life . “Watu wanachukuliwa na maboyfriend kwa gari na wewe uko tu hapa unafua”She says. I must admit that stung a teensy-weensy bit.  And she doesn’t stop there; “ si vibaya msichana kukuwa na boyfriend akuwe anakutreat sometimes na akupeleke kaholiday kidogo”  she continues in her heavy Luhya accent. I decide I’ve had  enough advice regarding my love-life. “Boyfriend utamwona tu siku moja Shosh” I tell her and rush up the stairs.

Just as I was about to enter my room, my pal comes. “Nilikuja kukutafuta haukua room. Nimekujia ile dress yetu”.  We wear the same dress size and there are specific ones that we share. “Leo unavaa dress kwani unaenda wapi?” I ask. See, I’ve known her for quite a while and we’re both the kind of girls that  wear dresses on special occasions only. “Nanii ananipeleka Lake Naivasha resort for Mashujaa day” she beams back. We refer to her boyfriend as Nanii. I hand her the dress and tell her to go have as much fun as possible.

I sink into my bed and thoughts race in. Last month, another girlfriend of mine was flown to Whitesands for a one week get-away by her boyfriend. In August, another pal got a gold chain and a new phone from her guy. During the times I decide to stalk former classmates and friends on IG, I bump into their pictures on dates in exquisite restaurants in town.

The last time I went to a 5 star restaurant was when I passed my KCPE and an aunt decided to spoil me.

I feel a tinge of jealousy that quickly morphs into self-pity. What is wrong with me? Is it that I expect so little from the boys that I date? Should I stop being satisfied with the once in a while Pizza and ice-cream dates at Steers? Should I stop being content with just hanging around at the hostel and watching a movie or taking strolls to Arboretum? Am I the few remaining hopeless romantics?  Is there such a thing as love? It’s all so confusing.

I really don’t know but it’s reached a point in life that I don’t want to be just that girl anymore. The girl that never goes out on Friday night; the girl that gets excited over making pilau  for myself on Sunday night; the girl that spends her Saturdays in ADD doing a boring assignment or surfing the internet, tweeting away. Being boring and formless grows tiresome too. I think it’s high time I raised my standards a notch higher; time I let whoever wants to pursue me struggle to get my attention.

I want to be treated like the queen that I am (this sounds so right). I want the man who will get me to sweat and work his ass off to make sure that I look fancy and pretty.  I want the good things in life; I want to indulge in Guylian and London Dairy ice-cream without my HELB loan suffering. I want to go to the fancy restaurants in town and do restaurant reviews. I want to not go to the supermarket and buy brands I do not like simply because they are cheaper.  I want someone who’ll buy me flower, lilies to be precise, without feeling a pinch. I no longer just want a card and chocolates or ice-cream for my birthday, what are we? 10 year olds? I want to be treated to expensive gifts and get taken to fancy places. I want to rub shoulders with people of high societal standing and make create networks as I progress with my career. I want the lifestyle of the wealthy and successful to rub off on me. They say the people you interact with have a great impact on you, right?

I’ve just read the above paragraph and everything sound like something cut straight from a Gold-diggers manual somewhere. But yes, I want all these things.  I refuse to accept the happiness that comes from simple things alone.  I want a challenge.

If you learn to settle for anything less than what you think you’re worth then you will forever live a mediocre life. And that includes choosing the right people to engage in relationships with. They say better half a loaf than no bread but it’s either the full bread or none at all for me…

 

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