Nairobi – The City Of Tears And Chest Pains

It’s a world wide pandemic where everyone thinks that the woman of today is nowhere near the woman of our mothers or even grandmothers time. A saying that has now become common goes like, the women of today no longer cook like their mothers but drink more than their fathers – or something along those lines. And let me tell you something, nowhere else is this felt more than in the city of sin itself – Nairobi.
Nairobi’s dating scene has become a rat race.

rat race
/ˈrat reɪs/
nounINFORMAL
a way of life in which people are caught up in a fiercely competitive struggle for wealth or power.
“they quit the rat race in order to live a simple life”

Now, replace wealth and power with Love.
Trying to get genuine love in this city should officially be considered an extreme sport.
A male friend of mine was lamenting to me the other day about how the females in this town are more hardcore than he himself could ever be. That they would be the first ones to ghost you after a sexual encounter. He told me of his latest heartbreaking “situationship” where he thought he’d met the love of his life. Of how they would have endless talks about basically anything and how she made him feel really wanted and all. Never asked for money, he mused. Everything went well for a while, until after you-know-what. Then she just up and left. Became a ghost. He tried reaching out but she made it clear with her actions that she wasn’t interested. My pal told me of how he felt cheated and used.
“When did we get here?” he asked out aloud
“Where?” I tried to control myself from bursting into laughter. The poor fellow couldn’t afford more egg on his face. Besides, who beats up a person that’s already on their knees?
“This point where men are now openly objectified? Where is the shame? Where is the shy woman, the woman who cried after you broke up with her? The one who guarded her body count with revered dedication?”
“What’s a body count?” I ask slyly while taking a loud sip from my glass of wine.
“Body count is when…” It takes him a second to catch on. “You know what, never mind.”

The year is 2023 and women no longer cry after a heartbreak. If anything it is you, my friend, that will soak your pillow with tears at 2am while wondering if everything she told you was a lie. Women in this city need a trophy for the most evolved species of the last 100 years. They are the ones backing out of marriages and beating their cheating husbands at their own game. What they have mastered perfectly at this point -on top of everything else- is the art of ghosting.