The men we thought were hard core and unfeeling become mushy, passionate and expressive creatures. “Love”, an alien word in their vocabulary before, becomes an everyday utterance whenever they talk about their beloved “Arsenal” or “Man-U”. That man who couldn’t be bothered when your friend got a baby and you “oooh-ed” and “aaah-ed” at the baby photos she uploaded on Facebook, now openly cries, and yes, there are tears, when his team loses or his favorite player gets flashed with the dreaded red card.

I have also noticed an interesting parallel in men’s devotion to soccer and women’s devotion to their soap operas, especially the Mexican telenovellas.

Let’s start with the names of the characters: in the soaps, the names Ronaldo, Carlos and Diego are very similar to the soccer players names, like Ronaldo, Ronaldinho and Diego.

Then there is the passion. In the soaps, the man and woman who are passionately in love openly express their love in public. They kiss in public, they have fights in public and declare their love for each other with so much passion as to move all who are watching to tears. This is the same case with the soccer fans. They argue loudly at bars about why their team is the best team. Morning hours at the office are spent rehashing the play by play that occurred at last night’s game in exquisite detail. If that’s not passion, I don’t know what is.

I cannot forget to mention the tears. In the soap operas, the characters are constantly crying in nearly every episode, both the men and the women. They are very expressive lot, these characters. No wonder the women who watch them are usually moved to tears. How can they resist feeling the plight of Maria, whose real mother doesn’t know she is alive, while she is in jail because the man she loves is with a conniving woman who had her framed for stealing the father of the man she loves’ silver teapot while she was working at his house as a maid?

During the soccer matches, the same thing happens. Our dear men watch eagerly, almost physically kicking the ball on the television so it can go where they want it to go to score the goal. The clock is ticking; the countdown to the end of the last half is on. Time is up and the final goal has still not been scored. The man is moved to tears. He just cannot believe that his team has lost. I don’t know whether it’s the death of a dream (what dream, you ask? I ask the same) or if he pictures going to his workplace the next day and having to face the mockery of his colleagues who support the rival winning team.

The parallels are there for all to see. So the next time a guy laughs off your soap opera devotion, remind him of the time he cried openly when his team lost. He insists that you don’t know the actors personally, so he asks why you are crying. Well, does he personally know the sportsmen he is so passionately defending and supporting? I think not.

I rest my case.

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The post Soccer and Soap Operas appeared first on The Lily Review.

Last year was great until she started her first job in a very nice place and moved out her place to stay with friends because for convenience. To clear things up she couldn’t move in with me because I have been not been independent because I have no job and still in school. The distance started increasing and I was getting worried but she said I should have nothing to worry about. I started becoming insecure something that usually am not but that feeling ended after a while.

During the holidays I requested for a meeting but she is ever busy and has no time. I believe that if you say you love someone the is always some time for that person even if its 2 minutes a day or a text. She broke off for holidays and I requested again for a meeting. I started saying how uncomfortable I was becoming and never realized that i was igniting anger within her. She finally told me that she was not comfortable with what I was doing always not understanding the situation but all I was asking was a little time of hers of the day.

Begin of this year she resumed her work and she went silent again only that this time I have been trying to call and text but there is no single reply even like attempts of trying to ask her what is going on. Personally I don’t know if shes mad or there is a new fling or she just wants to be alone. Help me understand.

Mike

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The post Ask Lily: I dont know what is happening anymore appeared first on The Lily Review.

Her name was Mary, and for the life of me, I cannot remember how I ended up in her confidant list. Mary is (although she isn’t sure anymore) married to an amiable and intelligent bloke named Francis. They have been in this matrimonial state for 8 years now, yes, 8 years! Blessed with two kids, a playful and curious boy named Mark and a shy damsel by the name of Amy. Honestly, they paint the cutest family portrait.

Everything would have still been sweet and rosy had Francis not decided he couldn’t live a double life anymore. What to him was meant to be a manly gesture of being honest with himself and consequently his wife did not auger very well with Mary. She broke a few things, one of which landed on his skull. She kicked him out, and he has since been cohabiting with his formerly secret love, a well-toned character who was previously introduced to Mary knew as Francis’s gym instructor.

I asked Mary if she ever suspected him of being otherwise interested and nothing! Nothing? Nothing! Not even…? Noooo!! Okay okay.

So let’s just clear the air on this issue. You won’t catch him sashaying across the floor or throwing back an imaginary weave ok? My rather extensive research (wink) tells me the following are stronger signs of a man battling with his sexuality.

1. Extreme homophobic behavior
   If your significant other turns almost militantly angry when confronted by someone who is gay, be very worried. People often lash out at those who embody traits they do not like about themselves. They are in fact empathizing with that person, but it does not come across that way.
2. An unusually large pool of Female friends
   Ever wondered why every girl in the world wishes she had that one gay guy friend? Something about gay men strongly appeals to the female psychic and your man, out of no doing of his, might find himself surrounded by a horde of females who simply enjoy his company and feel comfortable around him.
3. An unusually large pool of Male friends
   Every guy has his fair share of Man friends. But you won’t have to be a Neuro surgeon to know when that pool turns into a lake or an ocean!! He is always on guys night out, Excursions with the guys, Road trips with the guys, Gym with the guys, Golf with the guys etc etc. Ladies naively love it when they seem to be the only Girl in their Man’s life, but be warned, this could be a telltale sign of worse things to come.
4. Too much time with one Man
   I don’t care if they have been friends since childhood. Men simply don’t spend unusually long alone times with other men. We will however have boys who consistently feature in our social circles. All women have that guy who they know they can always call to know the whereabouts of the hubby when need be, that’s not the guy I mean here. If however he is the guy your husband always says, “I’m going to hang out at Bruno’s place”, then Bruno is the guy I’m talking about!!
5. Strained Sexual Intimacy
   This one is a no-brainer really. Thing is, sexual arousal is a mental process expressed physically. If your man is still in denial about his sexuality, then he might condition his mind to appreciate sex with a female but as time goes by and he can no longer suppress his true likes, you will notice him becoming tougher to arouse and at times in a whole different planet during the deed.
6. Insistence on the Back Door
   You’ve been married/going out with this guy for say 4 years, and one day he suggests he enters through the rear pass. You refuse, he relents. But as time goes by, he becomes more and more stubborn about it until it becomes a serious issue for the two of you, and before you know it, you can’t even remember how the fights started. Read the signs hun.

Now think about that as I walk away feeling intelligent.

 Photo credit: dnabil

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The post 6 signs your boyfriend/husband is gay appeared first on The Lily Review.

Since this is not a speech I will go straight to the question.

As indicated above in the subject, my question pertains to knowing the right man.

Basically uzuri wa mwanamume ni upi? Day after day we hear uzuri wa mwanamke ni urembo, tabia, ujuzi wa mapishi na utundu kitandani na kadhalika. Je uzuri wa mwanamume ni upi?

I am single and will soon be searching so please help me figure out what I should be searching for.

Thank you and hope to hear from you.

Elizabeth

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The post Ask Lily: What makes a good boyfriend/husband appeared first on The Lily Review.

Tim, for those of you who have short memories happens to be my best friend, and the proud husband to a girl with who if he screwed up for even one second I would be first in line knocking on her door. Her name is Christine.

It’s been just over 1 year now since the day they exchanged Vows at a solemn event in a 100 year old chapel at Nairobi’s Lavington area. A beautiful ceremony, yet simple and elegant like everything else Tim does. To my utter indignation, the boy chose not to have me, his Best friend of 8 Years as a Best Man. After everything we have been through together, he opted to go for a ridiculously boring acquaintance that he met a couple of years back at a Leadership Convention and had grown to be somewhat a peer Mentor of sorts to Tim. I don’t care much for mentors, especially when they can snatch the best man position from right under your nose.

I don’t like this Mentor guy. He doesn’t like me, and at one point even tried to convince Tim that I was a weed in his Life and that he should prune me out. Can you believe this dude?

Anyways, I had to settle for the humble position of being merely a bridal party member; a dreary position that I had to share with Tim’s younger brother, a social misfit of sorts who I swore never to go drinking with again after he decided to defecate right inside the club! A story for another day.

The highlight of an otherwise pitiful day for me was my companion on the Bridesmaids side of things. A slender youngling with a waistline that though camouflaged by the hideous bridesmaid attire Christine condemned them to wear, still showed promise of better things. Her facial beauty wasn’t much to write home about but hey, you can’t get it all.  She smiled easily, and kept stealing glances at me; an act that did not go unnoticed by Christine who gave me a don’t-you-dare look while smiling at her in-laws at the same time.

Her name was Eunice.

Eunice was a colleague of Christine’s at the law firm where they both sued people for a living. I had never met her before, and it would later become obvious why Christine had kept her safely hidden from me. She also happened to have a Photographer Fiancé who of all the Weddings happening that day chose to perform his art at this Wedding! This little detail eluded me.

As the day progressed, in between walking side by side along the aisle, serving cakes to happy wedding attendees, dancing in pairs to wedding songs and assisting with transiting Wedding presents to the Bride and Groom’s hotel suite, Eunice and I got close, even exchanging suggestive nuances at times.

Her Photographer Fiancé was either too engrossed in capturing the day’s Moments or simply didn’t know the age old art of peeing around your territory; either way, my allusive smiles and hand slides on Eunice’s waistline went totally unnoticed by him. As far as I knew, she was mine for the day, and God help my soul if I did not introduce her to life on the Coke side of life.

Evening Party, and there we were, ready to get lubricated while wishing the happy couple a happy life together. No sooner had the dance floor been declared open by Tim & Christine than I grabbed Eunice into my arms and engaged her in what could be deemed by Tim’s Mentor as gyrating at mildly inappropriate levels. She showed no signs of resisting my moves, but I could sense a slight hint of hesitation. I was already on my 4^th of 5^th bottle thus a little hesitation could not have been considered cause for alarm at this stage.

A few minutes later, I was ready for a stroll into the night, otherwise known as Stage two. I whispered this suggestion into her ear, while gently pulling her away from the half-drunk dancers. She acquiesced, albeit now vividly hesitant.

As we walked away from the Party, I enquired if there was anything the matter. Was she cold? I had an extra jacket in my Car which I was more than willing to share. No she was not. She was just concerned. Concerned about what? About Joe. Who was Joe? Her uhm, Fiancé. Aah, Fiancé! Well, she had nothing to worry about as I was not trying to steal her away, just enjoying a pleasant walk under the moonlight with a beautiful lady.

She smiled, relaxed a little bit as I offered my arm as a gentlemanly support.

I know not where the blow appeared from. Was it behind, or was it from the side? Either way, it had me disoriented enough to receive another blow straight into my face, this one jolting me back into reality. I was being attacked, by what seemed like one man bubbling with ten men worth of Anger inside him. She screamed, telling a certain Joe to stop. Joe, the earlier mentioned Fiancé, I figured. Had this Joe fellow been stalking us? No time to think about that, a fourth Jab was heading my way and it was time to invoke jungle laws.

By the time the rest of the Party appeared at the scene, Joe and I were sprawling on the ground, tearing into each other like the two drunks we were at that point. I am not much of a fighter in the traditional sense of the word, so I guess I was on the receiving end for the most part as far as the Jab exchanges went.

Someone pulled Crazy Joe away from me. I rose, hurriedly walked away in a huff and puff, heading straight for my Car to examine any permanent damages that could have been inflicted on my most prized possession, my face! There was none, though I would have to put up with a few Bumps for some days. I had survived a near-fatal road accident before, so as painful as this was, it was nothing; except for the humiliation of getting ass-whooped in front of a girl of course.

A few minutes later I managed to piece the whole Photographer cum Fiancé scenario and was not sure whether to be mad at myself for not figuring things out sooner, or at Eunice for being too forthcoming despite having her Fiancé less than 10 Meters away the whole friggin time we were virtually canoodling!

Tim laughed, Christine was mad as hell, Tim’s Mentor reminded Tim once again why I was a weed in dire need of pruning, and I decided there was absolutely no lesson to be learnt from this experience.

Thank God Joe waited until end of day to release his Rage.

So how have you been?

Photo credits: Cieleke &  leocub

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The post Of Bridesmaids and Wedding Dramas appeared first on The Lily Review.

It is at one of these weddings that you will meet a  former high school mate  you have not seen since the Just a Band’s Makemende video went viral will often give you one of those “cheek hugs”(Because she has not fully mastered the  pretentious hug which, if  done extremely well ,should be  a mid-air hug, or something). Your high school mate will smile and ask;

Where have you been?

To which you will answer.

Around. Niko Tu.

A literally pregnant silence will follow, which she will fill with:

When is yours?

To which you will reply.

It is coming. But do not hold your breath.

After which she will look at you pitifully and say:

Do not worry, Utapata  tu.

She will look at you with sad eyes and pat your shoulders as if you have just been diagnosed with a life-threatening illness.

On a Friday, you will be invited to a house party, where you will meet a dude you used to go to campus with. You vaguely remember his face because he has gained about ten kilograms and belches more times after two alcoholic drinks than any other male his age you have ever encountered.

He will ask you the same questions as that random chic you met at the wedding asked you. His reactions though, will be slightly different.

Belching man: What have you been up to?(Read: Are you married? Any children?

You: Not much…I am waiting for the list of supermarkets where such things are bought ndio nijisort…

He will laugh uninhibitedly (As any inebriated man is wont to do)

Belching Man: You mean you never got married? You were too choosy in campus. You never took a look at guys like me.

You: (Assuming a lightly laced sarcastic tone).That is my loss,aki.

Belching man: I work for blah,blah,blah…I have a son now. Would you like to see him?

The belching man will then unleash a Nokia (The phone in a drunken man’s pocket is always a Nokia) to show a grainy 5 minute video of his toddler son chewing on something.

Belching Man will then say with pride;

He is eating a cob of maize.

A few minutes later, after mistaking your silent 5-minute polite stare at the grainy video as a look of longing, he will say;

Do not worry, you will get one too.

You will be sitting in traffic when the ever-relentless hawker will shove a Ben-10 toy in your face and say;

Chukua kamoja ka junior

Because your window is already open and you want to be counted among the polite Kenyans, you will tell him;

Si leo,na ata sina m-junior.

Ah, aki uko serious? Ni sawa tu madam Mungu atakujalia upate.

You will then say: Sawa, asante.

You will come up with possible responses to shut anyone who would like to know the real answer. Possible reactions could be;

• You  got married to a strange man in the bar after a drinking binge and now you do not remember his name or where he lives  you cannot track him down for a divorce( this should be said with a careless shrug of your shoulders)
• You are still waiting for a response from the dating site you registered and paid a down payment for a match
• You have just ordered for a groom from an Asian country and are waiting to save enough for dowry
• You were recently diagnosed with a psychiatric condition that makes you spontaneously stab people

The list will be endless. You will share the responses with your girlfriends over cocktails and rejoice in the endless possibilities of life.

Author: Faith Oneya

Bio: When I was ten years old, I wanted to be an air hostess after reading Cynthia Hunter’s ‘Anna the Air Hostess’. A few months later, I read her book ‘Pamela the Probation Officer’ and experienced a burning desire to become a probation officer. Years later, I realized that what I had fallen in love with was reading and writing, not the professions. Writing, then, is not what I do. It is who I am. Check out my blogliterarychronicles.wordpress.com.

Photo credits: theswedish 

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There’s a transition of sorts for someone (family friend) who has been in a stable relationship for the past 5 years. No children came of their union (which he deeply regrets). His wife is also handicapped but couldn’t see what she had to offer him after they discovered her uterus was damaged. He holds his chin in his hands as he deeply shares his pain; disillusionment, anger, regret, hopelessness. Can they reconcile? Go back to…what?

Now in their final stages at the Divorce Court, there’s room for both to now start afresh..reinvent himself, move to a new town, start his biashara (business), dream and travel untethered. He says the memories of Nairobi are too painful, it’s too small a town in which to hide…I cant relate but I sit listening quietly.

Back to the ‘rushed’ atmosphere…I sense his rush because there’s a Plan he must execute within a set time frame. he is already making plans for Christmas but lost for where to be and who to be with…He always traveled with his wife. Now…?Emptiness. What is he planning for anyway?

He sees fathers and sons shopping, driving in the evenings, swimming… and he is missing out on an experience that leaves a deep ache in his heart. He wonders..should he adopt? Alone? What will his friends think?

His window of opportunity is fast closing around him. The dating scene is too scary, what with ‘cougars’ and homosexuals, he admits; plus he’s already done his far share of hunting. He doesn’t feel he wants to try that path again. The shortest route to his intended result would be best. Hassle-free…He wants to leave a solid and positive legacy and really wants to adopt a girl. Daughters have such a special place in their daddy’s heart. Stereotypes say he cant have a young girl in his home without a mother figure..he shakes his head ruefully. Either way, will he even get what his heart longs for? He wants to give of himself to make someone else’s life better but there are challenges all round.

Marriage is too risky. A child he can handle. “Oh, really”? I quip. You know they come with no Manuals, have their own Identity and Personality, which you have to spend time learning (called “Bonding”). Oh and chicks do LOADS of that!!Then she’s probably prone to speak more words than you and will need your undivided attention to cater to that deep need..Oh and don’t get me started on Teenage-hood and hormones and peer pressure and ‘fashionista’ hang-ups and boys and broken hearts and… his eyes started glazing over.

What? Is that a girl’s normal life? Yep…you better believe it!!!

Girls are sugar and spice and all things nice…

But am quick to encourage him not to throw in the towel just yet, in his pursuit. Am pleasantly surprised that selfishness or bitterness isn’t embedded in his soul. I point him in the direction of a couple of single dads I know, and wish him well as he finds himself. Hoping the choices will be good and thoroughly thought through.

Photo credit: nubuck 

As he walks away pensive, hands pushed deep into his jeans pockets, I realise there’s a new breed of fathers: men who aren’t afraid of taking the risk of starting and building a family all on their own. They also have the options the women have had. They can choose to bring home a son or daughter. Orphanages/Children’s Homes could probably benefit from these brave warriors…

So next time you see that guy pushing a stroller in the supermarket, diaper bag in hand and rucksack to boot, don’t be too quick to judge. It may just be my friend pouring into a child who needs a home, even as he himself needs a committed enough heart to love him back May his December be merry and mild…

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The post New breed of fathers appeared first on The Lily Review.

Last year a girlfriend set me up on a blind date with a man I decided didn’t suit me in any way. Lucky for me he was persistent. Two months after that hot chocolate at Dorman’s I accepted the dating commitment challenge. Was I head over heels? No…. but I was finally willing to give it a shot. It occurred to me then that I had got so used to expecting the worst in relationships that I was wired for rejection. My strategy was to reject any possibility to avoid eventual disappointment. So here I was walking into the possibility of failure and disappointment. Madness.

This man, the one who didn’t suit me, promptly immersed himself in to our family. Brave is not a word I would use to describe him. More like a warrior out of Spartacus. My brood were naturally wary of the new guy (that’s a story for another day). Wary became downright hostility. Hostility eventually became acceptance. Now there’s room to simply get to know each other. What a ride. And somewhere a long the way I discovered I’m pregnant. Huh! Knocked up at 39. Er waaaat?

I’m getting to the end of the 2^nd trimester so I’m a bit more positive right now. Thoughts of the 1st trimester will cause me to shudder for the rest of my life. What an utter crazy 3 months. Nothing could have prepared me for the fatigue, nausea, discomfort and general feeling of helplessness. I see now why women are considered technically insane at such times (yet another story for another day)!

Whereas I have approached this pregnancy with a measure of shock, my unsuitable man has been thrilled and supportive throughout. The congratulations have been coming in fast and furious and we are happy. With many of these congratulations have come comments like “you finally get to have your own baby” or “you can finally be a mother”. For a mother of adopted children these comments are more wounding than you can imagine.

You see adoption is a great option and for countless parents the only option. We love our children as our own. There is no us and them. We are one. I became a mother the day my first son was put in my arms and I fed him. Three months later my second son crept on my lap and I cuddled him. A year later I sat next to my 9 year future daughter and started to get to know her as we played on swings. A child is not ours because of the biological connection. A child is ours because we love and nurture them knowing we will eventually have to let them go. This baby growing in my belly is a wonderful addition to what I can only describe as a growing family.

“A child is born with the potential ability to learn Chinese or Swahili, play a kazoo, climb a tree, make a strudel or a birdhouse, take pleasure in finding the coordinates of a star. Genetic inheritance determines a child’s abilities and weaknesses. But those who raise a child call forth from that matrix the traits and talents they consider important”  Emilie Buchwald 

Photo credits: BirkFoto

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The post Nature vs Nurture appeared first on The Lily Review.

Her eyes water. Her lips tremble and her hands shake (You know, like in those silly Mexican soaps where the girl’s lips are always trembling before she cries). She goes over the text again and again hoping for a sign that he cares but she finds none. She curls up in her comfortable chair and weeps for herself and for millions of women like her-because she knows she will be going back to her pseudo-boyfriend tomorrow when he tells her he has to meet her and asks her out for a drink and takes her back to his house. (Not necessarily in that order).

Her mother had said nothing of the men who, for a few hours every week, made her feel like a queen and treated her like a leper the rest of the month.

He calls her two months later. She desperately holds on to the hope that he might have changed. Maybe gone on a self discovery journey somewhere in a meditation facility in Runda or Westlands and realized that she is the love of his life. He wants her to cook him dinner in his house. She jumps at the chance to go to his house.

She wants to confront him about the text. The words are trembling on her tongue (Again, like in the Mexican soaps) She wants to tell him of how much he hurt her. She wants to tell him that he is not good for her, that she is unhappy. She wants to ask him if he has another woman. She sighs heavily.

What is wrong? He asks, looking mildly annoyed. She searches his eyes for a sign that he might care… She finds none.

‘Nothing’, she replies.

‘You need to leave, I have an early morning’.

A knife twists in her chest. Her eyes burn and her legs feel heavy beneath her. It occurs to her that people should be in a sitting position while being rejected. That way, there is half a chance to gather your strength and walk away with the remaining (if any) part of your dignity intact. That way, you have a few seconds within which you can gather your wits and salvage whatever morsel of pride there is to salvage.

The matter of leaving should not be a big issue. He has kindly explained that he has an early morning. Why does it feel then that if she put her foot across the threshold, she would wish she had folded her hands around his feet and begged to stay? Do not play games with men, her mother said, and always be your true self. She does not know what her true self is.

He walks her to the bus stop. He could have driven me home, but he has an early morning, see. There is no public transport on the road. It is late, and most of them are parked for the evening. He flags down a taxi, negotiates the fare, and tells her to leave because she would not get any means home if she stayed.

I will call you, he says.

She pretends she has not heard.

Editors Note: Read Part 1

Author: Faith Oneya

Bio: When I was ten years old, I wanted to be an air hostess after reading Cynthia Hunter’s ‘Anna the Air Hostess’. A few months later, I read her book ‘Pamela the Probation Officer’ and experienced a burning desire to become a probation officer. Years later, I realized that what I had fallen in love with was reading and writing, not the professions. Writing, then, is not what I do. It is who I am. Check out my blog literarychronicles.wordpress.com.

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The post Her Imaginary Boyfriend [Part 2] appeared first on The Lily Review.

There is, of course, the occasional date that tells her he has ‘Deep feelings for her which confuses him’  and her long-time plutonic friend who has declared his ‘Boyfriend intentions’ but with whom she just cannot get it on.

This is her dilemma – the certain knowledge that there is no such thing as Mr. Right and the deep appreciation of the fact that beautiful feelings for another are nurtured, grown, and not born at first sight.

Now, this may have sounded like a very rational statement, from an equally rational person (which she was) but the heart wants what the heart wants and she finds that she goes into supposed relationships with an incessant and irrational need to fall deeply in love and live happily ever after. Like Cinderella. A black Cinderella. A Kenyan. Instead of a carriage? A Mercedes.

This could have been the price she was paying for reading romance novels at an early age, of losing herself into the strong arms of the heroes and becoming the heroine whose body is worshipped. It was a price she was willing to pay because she wanted to feel love that would frighten her, and leave her desperate and in awe. Like she imagined she would be in the precense of God.

This is why she is sitting in her comfortable chair (Everyone who came to her house said she had the most comfortable sofa sets) with her cell phone in her hands – there is such a man in her life. The romantic (if there is any) in you may want to sit up and read further, and possibly pat her virtually on the back for the romantic persistence and eventual triumph. Not until you hear that this is  not the guy that makes her  toes tingle and leaves her desperately wanting and needing him more whenever he is away from her. This guy is the type that tells her he’s ‘Confused about the deep feelings he has for her and would like to take it slow’.

Her favourite relationship guru Greg Brenhart of the infamous book “He’s Just Not That into You” would definitely be proud of her if she concluded that this man was just not that into her and stopped wasting her pretty. Greg would also recommend that she delete her pseudo-boyfriend’s number from her cell phone immediately-however; Greg has not considered the fact that she memorized the number by date three! Greg also swears that no man is ever “confused” about anything. She is armed with these words of wisdom so she should be okay.

Her imaginary boyfriend has not called her in a month. Their last conversation ended with Let’s talk soon. She should have asked for his definition of “soon” but she did not want to sound needy. She should end the relationship. She can’t.

‘We are both pretenders. I pretend to be okay with the way you are treating me and you pretend that there is nothing wrong with the way you are treating me.’

It is the curses of women like her. To always give the man the benefit of the doubt. She is built to endure all the heartache and bullshit that the man dishes out as long as he keeps her hopes up that he might actually give a damn about her. That is why her imaginary boyfriend will stay for three months without calling but on the day that he calls, she will engage all our mental and body strengths in trying not to pick up on the first ring!

She still does not have words to tell her pseudo–boyfriend-that she wants to break it off. This is the rational thing to do. But how does she define “it”?”It” certainly was not a relationship. He had six whole months where she blessed him with her presence in his life without his ever acknowledging that there was anything going on between them except for a feeble: ‘I am so confused’ so she cannot very well start with the classic ‘It is not you, it is me’.She wants to call it quits because she knows she deserves better, and she spends thirty minutes trying to think of dignified exit words. She engages all her linguistic energies and settles for:

‘We are both pretenders. I pretend to be okay with the way you are treating me and you pretend that there is nothing wrong with the way you are treating me.’

She adds ellipses in the text for dramatic effect and to signify that they have unfinished business. She hits the send button with  a smug little smile .Her  satisfaction turns into desperation in the few hours that he takes to reply, declaring he had no idea what she was talking about. In his text, he says:

‘Could we just stop this nonsense? Why are you getting emotional over nothing?’

Editors Note: Read Part 2

Author: Faith Oneya

Bio: When I was ten years old, I wanted to be an air hostess after reading Cynthia Hunter’s ‘Anna the Air Hostess’. A few months later, I read her book ‘Pamela the Probation Officer’ and experienced a burning desire to become a probation officer. Years later, I realized that what I had fallen in love with was reading and writing, not the professions. Writing, then, is not what I do. It is who I am. Check out my blog literarychronicles.wordpress.com.

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• Her Imaginary Boyfriend [Part 2]
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• The A Word

The post Her Imaginary Boyfriend [Part 1] appeared first on The Lily Review.

Then I started to give her compliments. Seriously, that girl has style! Eventually, I got brave enough to ask her how she does it. It must take serious talent to look that gorgeous every day. She laughed and told me she blames it on her stylist. A few conversations and phone calls later, I was introduced to Hamida, Stylist to the Stars.

Hamida has a very simple process. She begins with an informal chat, where she finds out what you want. She asks what you like and don’t like, and makes a few suggestions based on your size, shape, and body type. This lets her know the scope she has to work with.

In my case, she asked how I feel about jackets, heels, and tights, just to figure out what my boundaries were. I told her that I can’t stand blazers and I can’t walk in heels. She also asked what kind of earrings I like, and agreed to build a focus on my jeans, since I wear them every day. She’d show me how to make them stylish, but she’d introduce a few new looks as well.

Next, she analysed my wardrobe. She arrived at my house at 7.00 a.m. on Saturday morning, and made me try on every single thing I owned, from t-shirts to delicates. She let me know what had to go and what I could keep, explaining everything clearly.

For example, she advised me to avoid clothes that have a zipper at the front, because they compress my chest area and make my plus-size bust look painfully unshapely. She suggested that buttons look better, because they divide my front section, whatever that means.

She dismissed roughly two thirds of my wardrobe, and showed me how to combine what was left for a better look. Most of what I kept was stuff I’d never worn before, because, you know, they weren’t jeans. But after she combined them so beautifully, and I saw how fabulous I could look, I agreed to wear ‘cloth pants’ at least twice a week.

Throughout the process, she made notes in her little book so she could remember what we needed to replace. She decided that I had enough bottoms (mostly cloth pants and some linens), but that she needed to get me new jeans, since she had eliminated all the pairs I owned.  At my request, she also added skirts and a wrap dress to the list. The entire process took close to six hours, and for that, she charged me 5K.

At noon, we headed to Toi for some shopping. Hamida charges 1,000/= for every shopping spree, and this one lasted until 7.00 p.m. Items at Toi cost anything from 5 bob to 5K, depending on where you shop, so it’s always a fun [and very pocket-friendly] day out.

The shopping trip was a particularly interesting experience. We’d get to a stall and she’d pick out items for me to try on. Then she’d look at me and decide whether it suited me or not. If I didn’t like the item, she’d let it go, though there were a few that she insisted on despite my protests. In each case, she was absolutely right.

I had to try on an awful lot of clothes. At one stall, I tried on maybe 30 pairs of jeans, out of which she selected 10. Out of the 10, we picked the best 4, for budgetary reasons – each pair of jeans cost me 150/=. Also, please note that in my inexperienced eyes, every one of those jeans looked the same.

Next I tried on shirts, blouses, sweaters, and shoes. As it turns out, I’m not a shopaholic. At one point I got so dizzy and exhausted that I had to take a maize break. That literally meant sitting on a bench with my head between my knees, nibbling on boiled maize cobs. After half an hour, I felt much better and the shopping went on. By the end of the day, we had everything from flirty skirts to a gorgeous designer handbag. Total price tag? 5,000/=

On Day 2, we started at 8.00 a.m. Hamida sorted all the clothes that we had bought, and showed me what outfit went with what, including shoes, scarves, and earrings. I didn’t think I’d remember it all, so I made her take pictures. At 2.00 p.m. we went back to Toi to get a few things we had missed. The agenda for the day was dresses and shoes, and after 4 hours of shopping, we got 4 dresses, 4 sweaters, 4 belts, a pair of tights, and 2 pair of flats, all for less than 2K.

The following week, I was eager to show off my brand new look. Monday got me so many compliments that I was pretty much walking on air! Tuesday was a little more tricky, because it turned out the combination photos had an unsteady focus, so I couldn’t tell which clothes were which. Plus, I could barely remember what went with what, and ended up wearing something … interesting.

By Wednesday, I had given up and just threw together anything that matched. I keep forgetting to wear earrings, but I feel a little better in my skin, and I’ll probably ask Hamida to come back and redo my mix-and-matching. Because Hamida dressed me for my figure, I feel a lot less conscious about my weight. I’ve learnt that I can be gorgeous no matter how many [extra] inches are on my waistline, and that’s a wonderful feeling.

I didn’t know this last week, but a girl’s confidence is all inside her head. On the days when I’m convinced that I look good, I notice guys smiling at me, so I walk tall and proud. Not even sneers from fellow girls, insults from old women, or cat calls from construction workers faze me.

But on the day I wasn’t sure about my outfit, even my walk was different. I wobbled so much that my boot heel broke, and while I still noticed people staring at me, they didn’t seem to be smiling anymore. I was convinced it was because of how bad I looked, even though all these conversations resided deep inside my head.

Yesterday, I attended class, and after a bunch of compliments from my friends, a former co-tomboy grinned and asked me one simple question. ‘What time do you wake up to look that hot?’ I grinned back, because I’ve always prided myself in taking less than five minutes to get ready for work. Lately, I take 15 minutes on make-up alone! But that’s because I haven’t learnt how to do it properly, so I have to take it off and start afresh three times before I get it right.

Every woman wants to feel like a glamorous princess, and for a few days, this tomboy got to do just that. It only cost me 5K, and once I’ve figured out how to reproduce the process, I’ll feel like a princess again. Until then, I’ll just keep bugging Hamida for tuition.

Update
For all those who have been asking for Hamida’s contacts, you can reach her on 0728717048 or find her on Facebook.

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The post My 5K Miracle Make-Over! appeared first on The Lily Review.

In a fit of irritation I told my boyfriend that maybe I should just be single and that love had not done anything for me, he got pissed off and gave me time to re-think things, I realize I was wrong and I don’t know how to approach him, he is now silent so am I. I still love him and I would not like to loose him. What do I do?

Flora

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The post Ask Lily: I told him something I shouldn’t have appeared first on The Lily Review.

“Why?”

“Because lately you’re all styled up and glamorous and make-up and everything!”

We were in the bathroom at an office party. My workmate is the most gorgeous human being I’ve ever seen. She has pouty lips, luscious lashes, dark curly hair, and the slightest blush. She’s 5’9, a true African beauty with generously yummy curves, superb hips, and a flat tummy. She’s one of those girls who could wear a pillow case with a belt and look good.

Her sense of style is impeccable, and I often spend hours staring at her, trying to figure out what makes her outfit work so well. She throws on a shirt and jeans, forgets to comb her hair, and still looks like a super model! Yes, I’m straight, and no, the girl on the right isn’t me.

My friend’s only flaw is her shoe size, so when she described me as suddenly glamorous, I was wowed by the compliment. She still insists it’s because of a guy, and she says I should congratulate him for the changes in me. Well, it isn’t a guy. It’s more of a phase. See, I enrolled for this class that required me to dress up a few times a week, and since the class was at 6.30, I ended up in smart casuals all day long. I got heels, boots, fitting pants, flattering blouses, and handbags. Since I was in sneakers one day and heels the next, I kept forgetting what shoes I was wearing. Watching a girl catwalk in Bata Bullets or duck-waddle in heels is immensely amusing. Luckily, I enjoy at laughing at myself, and my evil cackle generally stops others from joining in.

I took a class in etiquette to learn some make-up basics, and had a friend give me a make-over. Since I’m completely ungirly and have blue-black skin, I was curious to see how things would turn out. I’d worn professional make-up for weddings and interviews (I wanted to be a stewardess), and I didn’t like it. Plus, I once heard Ajuma say her stylists have no idea what to put on her beyond lipstick, so I was sure I’d end up looking ridiculous. I started out with a cautiously negative attitude, so it was an interesting and mildly uncomfortable adventure for me.

I started with a facial cleansing routine. I was advised to buy Simple cleanser, toner, and moisturizer. Get them at Bestly, they’re almost 300/= cheaper there. My friend Janet used her own Mac products for my make-over. They’re pricey, but really good. She put some foundation powder on my cheeks and nose, liquid eye liner on the upper lids, eye-pencil on half the lower lid, eye-pencil on my eyebrows, and mascara on my eyelashes. Then she put a beige base on my brow line and purple eyeshadow on the eye lid. Yes, I know that’s all greek to the average ungirly girl. All I did was cram the names and watch how she used them. Then I tried to reproduce the effect once she was gone. It didn’t work.

So here’s what I did. I walked into Bestly and bought an eyeshadow palette of LA Colours at 450/=, then bought a smaller palette from Super Cosmetics for 250/=. I experimented with the colours, and it took a week of daily application before the eyeshadow stopped ending up on my nose … and the floor. I noticed that blending the brow was a lot of work, so I skipped that step and just applied eyeshadow on my eyelids. I also skipped the eyebrow pencil, because it always ends up on my fingers anyway. Nervous habit.

I bought 80/= mascara and 30/= eye-pencil at Ebrahims. Mascara makes your eyelashes look long and pretty, while eye-pencil does … well … I don’t really know what it does, but everybody uses eye-pencil. I start my make-up routine by drawing a very thin line on the outer edge of half my lower lid and the edge of my upper lid. From what I’ve read online, a thick line gives a smokey look. I have no idea what that means, but thick liners make my eyes itch. I also read that you have to sharpen the pencil before every use. It’s not so much about getting a fine line, it’s more about getting rid of bacteria from your previous application. Who knew?

After using make-up for a few days, I noticed it fades really quickly, especially the eyeshadow. By lunch time, it was all gone! So I saved up and bought Sleek Eyeshadow, which is beautiful, lasts all day, and costs 895/=. They have stands at Uchumi and Nakumatt, and they have free testers and mirrors, so you can try out the colours that suit you. I bought a full palette, but I only use five colours – purple, blue, green, brown, and turquoise. I’ve tried the other colours and I don’t like them much, so next time, I’ll just buy eye-dust tubs in my chosen colours. The tubs cost 295/= a piece, so it’s not really a saving, but it’s better than having all those colours that I’ll never use.

Deciding what colour to wear is easy – I just use whatever colour matches my t-shirt, hoodie, or shoes. For mascara, I bought Sleek Magnitude Mascara which costs 795/= and is in two coats. First, you apply the white coat to thicken your lashes, then you top it off with the black coat. I love the effect, but it takes a lot of practise to completely cover the white flecks without messing the rest of your make-up. It takes me at least 10 minutes to do that, because I have to keep cleaning up the mess and starting all over again. It does get easier with time though. I hope.

After playing with eye make-up for a month, I got a bit bolder and decided to try lipstick. I found my favourite lipstick accidentally. Years ago, I saw it on a friend’s table, tried it, and loved it. I use Signature No. 28, which only costs 50/= but is often out of stock, so I buy 4 or 5 sticks when I find them. I also thought a dark red would look good on me, because it works on the girl in Disorder in the Court, so I got a burgundy shade of Dark & Lovely at Ebrahims for 70/=. It works beautifully. I usually apply some lip balm as a base to keep my lips from drying out, then I put on a few coats of lipstick. Yes, I blot in on tissue. I don’t know why, but all the girls on TV do it. I should probably Google that.

I remember reading somewhere that you should only highlight one area at a time. You should either focus on your lips or eyes, never both. I don’t know how that works, but for me, I have a few basic looks. When I’m wearing blue, or purple eyeshadow, I wear the dark red lipstick. When my eyeshadow is brown, green, or turquoise, I wear Signature No. 28, which is a deep golden brown shade. It looks dark orange when you blot it on white tissue, but it looks brown on my lips. So far, Green Sleek Eyeshadow + Signature No. 28 lipstick is my favourite look.

When I first started wearing make-up, I was so conscious of myself that I was constantly running to the office bathroom to touch up, but I got used to it after a while, and it seems to stay on longer when you fuss about it less. I never touch up my eye make-up during the day, but I carry my lipstick around and re-apply it 4 or 5 times a day, usually after meals. As for lipstick stains on the office coffee cups, well, wash your own mug.

The next step in the make-up evolution is foundation and facepowder. They make your face look flawless and silky smooth. But I really can’t be bothered with that right now. It feels like an awful lot of work. And it makes my skin itch. I suppose I’ll get there one day though. After all, three months ago I thought lipstick was irritating and eyeshadow was tiresome, and now I’m so used to it that I feel naked without my make up!

One of the coolest parts about being ‘girly’ and wearing make-up is getting home. I walk into the house, take off my heel[ed boot]s, change into a t-shirt and track-suit bottoms, clean off my make-up, look at my own face, and realise how awesome the natural look really is. I guess sometimes you need the contrast to really appreciate what you have. Looking gorgeous all day, then getting home, washing up, and feeling even more beautiful does wonders for my self esteem.

I’m still not completely girly. I still wear blue jeans every day, and a hoodie that matches my canvas sneakers. I still carry my stuff in a bright red back-pack. I still wear my hair in short, purple dreads. Sometimes I wear heeled boots, and once in a while, I use a wicker handbag that I got at Toi. I suppose now I’m just a tomboy in make-up. But I’ve noticed my walk is different, and the way I carry myself. I feel more like a woman now than I did before, and it has very little to do with make-up.

A few people have commented on my new style. They generally exclaim and look shocked, and I grin, say thank you, and assume they were tongue-tied by a compliment. My look is far from subtle, hardly polished, and not particularly professional, but I love it, and it makes me happy. So take a chance on yourself. Explore your girly side. It may be a lot more fun than you think!

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The post Make-up For Dummies (Like Me) appeared first on The Lily Review.

Like all girls, I love pretty things, but like many Kenyans, I’m watching my pockets. Luckily for me, I have skills. I grew up around a super-mum who had three jobs and several businesses. Her side hustles included transporting charcoal and owning a stall in Gikomba. We spent a lot of weekends perched at the top of a wooden shack watching grown women play rugby scramble over second hand clothes.

The up-side of mum having a stall was that we got to pick the best clothes for ourselves before she sold the rest. So I’m fairly adept at looking good in ‘mitush’. Like the man said, [and I don't actually remember the man's name] the trick in wearing second hand clothes is not to look like you’re wearing second hand clothes.

My baby is adorably easy-going and doesn’t mind that her gorgeous clothes are ‘vintage’. In fact, she thinks they smell quite nice, because they often come with the previous owner’s perfume instead of the ‘new clothes smell’. I have to keep reminding her that other adults will not take ‘Your clothes smell like mitumba’ as a compliment…

Anyway, my baby and I set aside a Saturday for adventures in Toi. We started the day in town. I like to take baby-girl to the bank with me. I’m hoping that as she fills out her own deposit slips and puts (my) money into her savings account, she’s learning about the value of cash.

A lot of people shop at Toi, but most of them remain at the outskirts, the area around Woodley and Winners Chapel. What most people don’t know is that the market extends past Toi Primary School and all the way round to Kibera. That’s where the real treasure lies, in the hidden corners where you can find designer jeans at 70 bob and boots at 500/=.

It gets really muddy, but is surprisingly organized. Stall owners are gentle and polite, not as pushy as the sellers on the outside. But it takes a lot longer to find what you want, because there’s so much to sift through and such low prices. It’s a shoppers’ Valhalla!

We walked into the market at 11.00 and didn’t leave until 3.00. By then, we had three large bags of clothes and ended up taking a taxi home. That stuff was way to heavy to take on three connecting buses. Also, being the middle class folk that we are, it didn’t seem ironic to shop at a flea market then hire a car to take us home. *cheeky grin*

After depositing the goods in the house, we got on a matatu and went to Uchumi Hyper. We needed a kettle, sandwiches, assorted candy, ice cream, Malta Guiness, and chocolate. The day ended at the hairdresser getting prettified, before we settled down to unpack and watch cartoons.

The downside of middle class living is that I have acquired a cultured taste, but I don’t always have the finances to feed my sense of style. I like to shop at Toi because I get designer items at throwaway prices. I’ve found everything from Calvin Klein and Levi to D&G. Excluding transport, my baby and I spent a lucky 7,000/= on that shopping spree:

• A pair of white khaki pants: 70/=
• Four pairs of blue designer jeans: 280/=
• Three pairs of leather boots: 1,900/=
• Nine dress-tops: 400/=
• A blue wicker handbag: 50/=
• A burgundy cloth clutch: 50/=
• A red Nike swimsuit: 200/=
• A leather guitar case: 300/=
• Four pairs of canvas sneakers: 1,950/=
• Three ladies’ jackets: 600/=
• One beige hoodie: 200/=
• Lots of heavy socks: 440/=
• Cab fare: 1,000/=

It doesn’t have to cost an arm and a leg to look good. And you don’t even have to tell ‘them’ where you shopped. When you walk out looking like a million bucks, you’re the only one that will know your killer outfit cost less than a dollar. Just be sure to carry small money, drink lots of water, wear shoes with good traction, and dress in clothes that are vaguely susceptible to mud.

Photo credit: Comfit 

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The post High Class Shopping On A Middle Class Budget appeared first on The Lily Review.

Then all of a sudden he decides to start going out after work which is 1am and he don’t come in till 6am. and on the days he don’t have work he comes in 12am-3am so i felt like he was cheating so i broke up with him to put on an act for 4days i leave. and i came back home to me and our sons stuff packed up and he knew we had no where to live but he still chose not only to pack my stuff but our sons too, am thinking to myself i can see him being mad at me but to put our son out too but am like its fine i leave the stuff where its at and i ask him why did you move our stuff out the room he says i was cleaning to room out. i say ok so i leave the stuff where its at about three days go past and he never moved the stuff back in

As always he comes in late at 12 or 1 am and we go stright to sleep and a girl texts his phone while he is sleeping and seeling if he made it in and i wake him up to ask about it he says its for his friend so i say ok and walk way and then when i come back in the room i see that he texted her back saying i thought u where sleep. i was so upset then i fould out that he took her to a 6star resturant that night where he never took me that made me mad so i decided to move out of state because i had nowhere else to go to better myself for our son. and now a mouth later hes telling me he wants to work everything out and he wants his family back our son is 8mounths and i don’t want to make him miss out on our son and i do miss my ex and love him but i don’t want to get hurt again and i dont want my so to ever get hurt what should i do?

Jada

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The post Ask Lily: My cheating ex-boyfriend wants to work things out appeared first on The Lily Review.

Crush number 1… standard 8. I was pint sized, still flat chested but witty and extrovert. Ed had already broken his voice, had the shadow of a moustache and bulging mini-triceps. Quite the dish. I loved from afar, usually collapsing if he so much as looked at me. Well he fell for someone else and at the end of the year school dance I, misty eyed, let go of my crush  as he danced with his new girlfriend. Optimistic I forged forward knowing without a shadow of doubt that love would triumph and my moment would come.

This attitude kept me going for years. Enter first love. He was older and wiser presumably (I was 20, he was 22). I fell for him completely and within no time dreams of our life together took over. Oh the joy of young love; long walks, holding hands, lunch at Wimpy’s and hanging out at Carni when budget would allow. All that mattered was being together. He was going to be a keeper.  In the end he cheated on me with a friend and through endless tears and replays of Boyz to Men’s “End of the road’, I began to learn the art of self preservation as I fought to remain dignified and not compromise. Monogamy or the highway mate.

My perception of love began to change. Fast forward to 6 more boyfriends and a marriage ending in divorce and what I knew for sure was falling in love was a joke. A big fat joke. No more tears of joy, only of frustration. Every approach by a man treated with suspicion and down right hostility. In less than 20 years I had gone from optimistic to “please your joking right?”

In the 6 years of my separation, I really had a chance to take stock. After all the ranting and abusing I finally got that what I really needed to do was re-invent my relationship with myself first. I felt battered and terribly disappointed; unattractive and simply not good enough. I needed to remember who I really was. I wanted to have the biggest and best love affair of all with myself.

I started by introducing the kids to me. The real me, not the sugar coated mum but me; the good, bad and downright ugly. I shed the friends I had outgrown. I re-discovered my creative side and made more time for me. I learnt how to empower others with the word NO and put my needs at the top of the pile for a change. And I tried everything that I could without breaking the law; dancing and hanging out all night, blind dates, holidays alone, reading in bed for hours on lazy mornings, exploring other religious beliefs and spirituality. I filled me up piece by piece.

The woman I am today is a hungry one. Hungry for knowledge, experiences, love, wonder. One who has fallen madly in love with me; amazed by what I have accomplished and what I have endured. Grace is such a gift. I am inspired by the love and dedication of family and friends and learning daily the treasure of giving back. I feel calmer and more content as life simply unfolds. I love to love.

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The post Falling into love appeared first on The Lily Review.

If you and your friends get together once a week to catch up, order some fast food and play online games or watch a movie, but you’re sick of your pals teasing you for picking out the one slice of tomato or limp piece of lettuce you always get in your burger, then you are sure to be interested in the fun and tasty recipe ideas below.

Potatoes
Rather than just eating a boring jacket potato with beans or a potato salad, why not make your potatoes into spicy wedges? Simply slice up a potato, sprinkle it with paprika, chilli powder and cayenne pepper, then bake in the oven until they are crispy. Delicious, healthy and one of your five-a-day.

Bananas
If you aren’t too keen on eating bananas – other than in a banana split – then why not make a fruit smoothie? Simply place a banana, a splash of milk and some ice cubes into a blender and blitz until you have a creamy banana smoothie. If you have a sweet tooth, why not add a spoonful of cocoa powder to make a chocolate banana smoothie, or even a spoon of peanut butter and honey?

Spinach
This superfood is a great source of iron and vitamins so why not make butter and garlic wilted spinach side dish? Simply fry a clove of garlic in a tiny bit of butter before adding some spinach and letting it wilt.

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The post Fun ways to get your five-a-day appeared first on The Lily Review.

The time we women sit around each other saying its girl time, it’s all about our husbands, our boyfriends, how the sex was so awful, how we think that our men are cheating on us and how scandalous the bitch he is sleeping with is ugly as hell. It is always about how you met this fly guy in the lift or in the shopping mall the other day, how you would just want to eat that chocolate of a man with a spoon. We appreciate our brothers so much but here is the deal.

A woman will not cheat unless she has been pushed to that limit or has been given a reason to.

What makes men think that we do not know that you have a Tasha or a Valentine or Njeri who you are in constant touch with each and every moment? What makes you think that we do not know when you have had dinner with a woman and the nature of your meet was not business or friendship? We know. We do not like showing it off because we try as much as possible to avoid an argument. We have too much pride to step up and ask when we ultimately know that there is another woman.

So what do we do? We look for an exit plan. The man we met at the mall (we already know the schedule and the times he pops in) is the same guy who we will make sure to bump into. Our trips to the mall will be more often than usual; whether to the food court, the salon at the mall or take the kids to the arcade to see this guy. It becomes a vicious circle and then one day, lunch at the food court and the kids hanging out with him. If he is good company, the kids will not tell you. They have someone who treats them so well that it is a secret not worth telling otherwise it will be all over. Nights out with the girls will be almost every weekend, while it is to see Mr Handsome and believe me this always passes the men(unless he is bright enough which I believe our men are. Though they are so slow).

See the thing with women is that once you realize that your significant other is not doing what he should do, we go quiet and we find solace with someone who well, treats us right. We like attention, period! There is no reason a woman will cheat with no valid reason. Deep down there is an urge to say GO F**K YOURSELF, but we keep it in because we have so many things to protect including your ego.

The funny thing that I have come to realize is that when you flip the script on your man to tell him that you may be sleeping with someone else, the thought is so revolting that they do not want to hear it and walk away to go and absorb it. On the other hand, they do not actually think that the same revolting feeling goes on inside us and find no reason to apologize. I heard someone say that a man can cheat because he can. Guess what, a woman can cheat because she has been forced to and she won’t stop once it gets better. Just because your woman gives you the silent treatment in an instant and lasts for a day, go back and do the checklist and find out what you have done. Erase and rectify what you have done or think you have to her before she decides to go MIA and you are over and done. There is always a reason for everything. Ask KANDI…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sYRiwOKJvtg

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• Falling into love
• But…what if he likes me?!?
• Ask Lily: Is my husband cheating on me?

The post Cheating Women appeared first on The Lily Review.

“Fair enough. Let’s hear it Stella”

“Alright. I was 18 at the time…”

“How old are you now?”

“I turn 23 in August”

“Oh, ok.”

“Having been brought up in a particularly staunch Christian background, Church was my life. We had just moved back into the City from North Rift where my Dad had been posted on duty. My Mom knew someone from the Church of the Living God so we started worshipping there. Before long I was involved in various Church activities, spending more and more time at the Church”

“So far so good”

Laughter.

“Anyway, I was working closely with Brother Chrispin. He was studying to become a Pastor and was in charge of all Youth Activities at the Church. We grew close. He was nice to me, and honestly I liked and respected him. He knew the Bible back and forth, and had the best advice especially for a girl as young as I was. Quite often we would work late into the evening and he would walk me to the bus stop. I felt quite safe for as long as I was with him”.

The pause that came after this, plus her face turning grim told me that the part I dreaded was about to begin.

“One Saturday, we had just finished going through some documents in the Church office when he asked if he could make us some tea at the main house.”

“He lived in the Church compound?”

“Yes. I didn’t think twice about it.”

“Alone?”

“He had a servant, and when guest Pastors visited they would also stay there. On this particular day though, the servant was on leave and there were no guest Pastors around.”

“I’m not one to Judge but it sounds to me like you two were putting yourselves into temptation.”

“Will you let me finish?”

“Yes, Sorry.”

“So we went to the main house. He went in and fixed the tea while I sampled some CDs in the Living room. A few moments later he brought the tea and served. We sat and started drinking while discussing the week’s activities.”

“Let me guess. That’s the last thing you remember until you woke up later not knowing what had happened, with a heavy head and your tender areas feeling strange?”

“I wish. That would have been a million times better.”

“Let me spare you the details Lawrence. One moment we were sitting there enjoying some tea, next moment he was on me, his eyes bloodshot and his face so scary I was more scared for my life than anything else. After a moment’s struggle he found his way with me, and the rest is history.”

“Damn. I..I’m not sure what to say.” I truly did not.

“He didn’t have to warn me not to say anything to anyone. The mere thought of people knowing what had happened scared Baby Jesus out of me. It would kill my mum instantly.”

“Are you allowed to say ‘Scared Baby Jesus out of me’?”

“You are such a bad listener Lawrence!”

“Ok ok, mouth shut.”

“It crushed me on the inside. Telling someone was out of the question, but holding it inside and bearing it all on my own took its toll on me. What was even worse was what it did to my faith. I questioned God, his Power, his will for my Life, his Church…”

Her voice trailed off. She wasn’t telling a story anymore. She was reliving the past in her mind, and it wasn’t doing justice to her otherwise pretty face.

“Stella, I’m going to fast forward this. The person I have known for the past two months is obviously stronger and more avid in her faith. Life is fuc…uhm…life is harsh sometimes…”

“Harsh doesn’t begin to explain it. For the next three years I turned into someone else. Absorbed in my own wretched world, I found solace in places and things I wouldn’t have thought of before. I lost my self worth and immersed myself into a dark world. I simply rebelled. No one knew why. Again, I will spare you the details.”

“That I appreciate.”

“You think you are a Bad Boy Lawrence? I’ll tell you what you are. You are just a boy, too scared of the realities of life to face them. You choose to play and act like the world is one big playground.”

“That’s a little below the belt don’t you think?”

“I’m sorry. I’m just saying until life properly slaps you in the face, then all you have is a fantasy world.”

“So what took you back to Church?”

“My mom. The one you met.”

“That’s your mom?? Why does she look so frail?”

“That’s a story for another day. For three years she watched me rebel against everything we believed in and all she offered was open arms whenever I needed them. She was hurting more than I was and after a while I couldn’t take it any more.”

“Meanwhile Brother Chrispin had permanently relocated to the UK on Missionary mission. That also helped my resolve to go back to Church since I wouldn’t have to see his face again.”

“Does your Mom know about this now?”

“Yes. I eventually told her about it. But she is too weak now to raise hell about it. And I made her promise me she wouldn’t pursue it any further.”

“Have you dated anyone? Since the Chrispin guy that is.”

“No. I haven’t. Until recently men had only been mere tools to me. I couldn’t stand them unless I had…you know, needs.”

“So what made you…I mean…why the hell…why did you…”

“You are not a Church Boy. You have an interesting outlook towards life and you are too silly to take life seriously. I find that refreshing.”

“I know that should make me feel good, but I feel like a tool.”

“You are. It’s obvious to me that you are not looking for a serious relationship Lawrence. You simply wanted to conquer this territory so that you could brag to your friends. If you think about it, you are also using me.”

As far as slaps go, this was a super good slap in my face. My pride was hurt and I felt like a little boy caught pants down with sugar crumbs all over his face. I was not about to, I couldn’t, deny the fact that she was too darn painfully right.

“Let me get this straight. You don’t want to be in a relationship with me…”

“Not you. I don’t want to be in a relationship. Period!”

“So what are we doing here exactly?” Oh God, I couldn’t believe I had just asked the one question reserved for girls.

“You tell me. You are the guy here.” Slap!

“Do I still have the option of walking out?”

“Yes, but I would rather you don’t.”

“And why is that?”

“I like your company Lawrence. Your easy going attitude is…”

“Enough about my easy going attitude. Look Stella…”

“Hmmm…the caged Lion is coming out finally!” She chided coyly. For a Church Girl, Stella was too witty and I dare say too impish too. I found that irresistibly hot. It was a welcome breather though as we both laughed it off though a tad bit awkwardly.

“Listen. The world I live in is interesting, it is fun and it is adventurous. In my world we don’t judge people. And when we meet girls with back sides that are designed for Hollywood, well…”

“You have some fun with them too, I know.”

“Exactly. You are a grown girl Stella, so I’m sure you know what you are up to. Where our paths meet, there only 3 rules: Have Fun, Have some Adventure and don’t Judge. If you can live with that, I’m here to stay.”

“No Sex.”

“I’m ready when you are ready.”

“It will never happen Lawrence.”

“Never say Never!”

“We’ll see.”

And the smile I had seen that first time was back again.

Photo credit: magurka & jomeriano 

You might also like:

• Bad Boy meets Church Girl – Part 3
• Bad Boy Meets Church Girl – Part 2
• Bad Boy meets Church Girl – Part 1
• The “Church Girl, Church Guy” Phenomenon
• Ask Lily: What makes a good boyfriend/husband

The post Bad Boy meets Church Girl – Part 4 appeared first on The Lily Review.

At the end of the day though how does this really make you a better employee or a better manager? Reasons for slacking at work can be many, but some of the most common ones i’ve come across are:

1. You are bored and tired of your job so you don’t really care too much, so long as you show up and look busy, all shall be well with the pay check come end month
2. You are just about to move jobs so its just a formality to show face and pretend your sad to be leaving though you know all too well that you are exstatic about it and in your mind this job is a wrap!
3. You have personal problems and challenges which are honestly taking up all your mental capacity, you have no time to really get involved in work at depth at this time
4. You have other side biashara’s that are bringing you money so spend your time during the day splitting yourself between the two trying to juggle it well. That is trying to make sure the guy you hired is not ripping you off and ensuring that your boss doesn’t find out where you really were when you claimed you were in need of study leave.

I sometimes find that the hardly working bit does not work as well as the working hard bit. All bosses really want you to be a hardworker, increase sales, be professional and lets be frank most organisations have no incentives for.

Here’s my two cents about why you should choose WH over HW:

1. At the end of the day its a personal choice. Not all bosses notice all hardowrkers, which is a shame, though you can go the extra mile to make youself be noticed every now and then.
2. Personal satisfaction which will go a long way in helping you shape the person you want to become. Hardworkers always get noticed at some point, it may not be when you expect to be noticed, but trust me it will come some time in your career.
3. Building your CV is obviously a perk here, because you can easily list the accomplishments that you have achieved, the projects you have worked on, and this will help you move on to greener pastures easier than those who were not too sure what work they have achieved at the organisation.
4. Increased experience from exposure to people out there in the industry develops your expertise and increases the skills you have. Whenever you get into an instance where you basically have to work your arse of to deliver then you get to know how to push yourself out of your comfort zone.

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• Brand yourself!

The post Working Hard Hardly Working appeared first on The Lily Review.

Aah yes. 5^th Sunday, and there I was all suited up and polished. To ensure this day went according to plan, I had forsaken Kamau’s since Thursday night. This was a first. My very dear Kamau actually called on Sunday morning to confirm that I was not sick in bed, or dead for that matter. I am yet to decipher whether Kamau honestly cares about me, or the healthy revenue I bring him.

On this day of the Lord, Stella, whose name I had not gotten to know to this point, was on the podium, among a lot of equally ardent, equally manicured, equally radiant and equally saved ladies. They were providing background vocals to a voluptuous lead singer whose voice was so mellow it almost distracted me from my target. Stella was really into this Church stuff.

‘How is mum today?’

That’s the easiest pick up line I have ever had to use.

She turned round, a confused look on her face.

‘Excuse me?’

‘Oh, I’m sorry. My name is Lawrence, we met last Sunday? Lost and found scarf…’

‘Oh yes, I remember you!’

‘Yes. Great Service today. And I have to say, you ladies sure can belt out some praise songs.’

‘Well thank you.’ There went the smile and slight blush again.

‘Usher, Praise and Worship Lady, Guider of the elderly…is there anything you can’t do!?’

A shy giggle ensued.

‘Oh no, just different roles you know?’

Slight pause, eye contact (this trick is fool proof I tell you) and a smile to end it all.

‘You seem busy, but may I ask one thing of you before getting out of your way?’

‘Of course.’

‘Have coffee with me some time.’

This one is from the old dating rule book. Don’t Ask, Tell.

Shy chuckle, gaze around the church compound, down then back at me. If she was British, her face would be turning pink by now. It was obvious she had never gotten such an unwavering invitation from a man before. How Church guys hit on Church Girls I don’t know yet.

Stella was truly an honest Church Girl, with great ambitions as far as getting into heaven was concerned. Thanks to her I made my first ever visit to a Children’s home, something that I have almost turned into a routine nowadays. For two months I courted her. For a guy who prefers borderline flirtations and innuendos when dealing with the opposite side, this was not an easy feat. Two months is all I had anyway before forming a committee of experts to decide on the fate of this venture.

Then it happened. Out of nowhere, it happened.

“Lawrence, you are not a Church guy.”

The Macadamia nut I had been crunching leisurely instantly found its way down the wrong tract. Cough cough, teary eyes, one hand raised to assure her I was fine while the other desperately squeezed my besieged throat…eventually I composed myself and we had a good laugh out of it.

“Ehm, Sorry about that.”

“It’s ok. Well?”

“You didn’t really ask a question, so I don’t know what to say.”

“Am I right?”

“What makes you say that?”

“For starters, whenever we are out of the Church gates you never discuss anything religious. You do away with the Praise Gods and Bless Yous and you are well, not a Church guy.”

“Hmmm…is that it?”

“You want more? Ok. When you think I’m not looking, to check out my behind like a hungry vulture.”

At this point I had to stifle what could have been another Macadamia nut attack.

“Are you trying to say Church guys don’t check out Girls’ behinds? Especially when the behind in question is so…God-have-mercy-like?”

Laughter.

“No, but they do a much better job at it than you.”

“Alright alright. Let’s say you are right. What are you still doing going out with me 2 months later?”

“I like you!”

“Is that it?”

“You know what my Pastor says? Follow your heart.”

“Even when your heart leads you to a fellow who hadn’t stepped on Church grounds in 6 years as of two Months ago?”

“Wow. I did not know that.”

“Oops! Alright, so the secret is out. Do you like me any less?”

“No. Actually I like you more.”

“Huh?”

“You endured two Months of something you obviously hate, just to be with me?”

“That shouldn’t surprise you Stella. Men do crazier things to be with Girls as hot as you.”

“Is that all you see in me? A hot Girl?”

“I would be lying if I said that’s all. At first, it was. Then I got to know you.”

“So what else do you see in me?”

“You have a good heart. That’s rare. You went out with me despite knowing I was a fake. You are open minded, but not stupid. And I see how you take care of your granma. Gets to me every time.”

“I haven’t been this way for long you know?”

“Reeeaally!”

“No. Now that we know about you, I’ll tell you about me. Then, we both have a decision to make.”

“This feels like a Movie.”

“Wait until you hear my story. I’m taking a big risk here Lawrence. But I hate living a Lie. After I tell you the story, if you want to walk away, I will understand. No hard feelings. You won’t be the first.”

At this point I could feel the Macadamia nut making its way back up. What could sweet, saved Stella possibly have to tell me that would make me, Lawrence, walk away? Dear Lord this is not how I planned this to go. Church Boy meets Church Girl. How complicated could that be?

I was about to find out.

You might also like:

• Bad Boy meets Church Girl – Part 4
• Bad Boy Meets Church Girl – Part 2
• Bad Boy meets Church Girl – Part 1
• The “Church Girl, Church Guy” Phenomenon
• Ask Lily: What makes a good boyfriend/husband

The post Bad Boy meets Church Girl – Part 3 appeared first on The Lily Review.

I was in a matatu, heading somewhere, and I was seated next to the driver with a friend.

As the driver was driving, he encountered two middle-aged Indian men, kalasingas, as we call them, riding on motorbikes at the speed of like 5 kilometres per hour, chatting, and hence, blocking the road on that lane that we were on.

The driver went ballistic. It was ugly. He started insulting the men, the men insulted him back. It was some seriously foul insults that I can’t repeat, back and forth. Soon they were threatening to fight each other and the driver almost got out of the vehicle to actualize the threats. By now there was traffic starting to build up and curious onlookers and drivers were slowing down to watch the drama. Some of the other matatu passengers jumped into the drama and started yelling and insulting the men: “Rudini nchi yenu!” (“Go back to your country!”,) and other similar sentiments were yelled out to the men.

I have to say, I was shocked (and also a little envious of the two men, who had the fortitude and the guts to keep going despite being outnumbered) that Kenyans feel so strongly about foreigners, particularly Indians. I have heard so much negativity directed towards them: that they feel superior to Kenyans because we are black and they are, well, whatever colour they are; that they treat their employees like slaves; that they treat black people as lesser beings because they believe that we are from a lower caste than they are.

There is so much animosity towards foreigners in this country. I remember arguing with a friend of mine that some of these so-called foreigners are actually Kenyan citizens since they were born here, but she would have none of it.

What’s my stand on this issue? I hate racism, black-on-white, white-on-black, Indian-on-black, black-on-Indian, Somali-on-nywele ngumu (or “hard hair”, as some refer to Kenyans)…it’s all the same. It’s all discrimination.

I don’t deny that some of the claims are true, that some races discriminate against us. I just do not think that two wrongs make a right. I am not justifying the wrong. I just think we need to be above it. It hurts the other person just as much as it hurts us when we discriminate against them; so essentially, we are just playing the same game.

Also, racism is one of those mass-punishment things, you know, like if in high school, the teacher found a few people making noise in class and punished the whole class for noise-making, including the innocents? It was so unfair! Racism is the same to me; we punish everyone in that group for a number of people’s mistakes: totally unfair.

That’s my take. What’s yours?

You might also like:

• Outcry of a Kenyan

The post An encounter with racism appeared first on The Lily Review.

I have zero recollection of what the pastor shouted about on that day, and my wandering eye was met several times by frowns from other worshipers. Tim was helping with the search. Where was this girl?

Then I felt it. At the recesses of my manscience I felt it. She was nearby, close enough for me to see her, probably even touch her, but man I just couldn’t find her! I nudged Tim and told him to look closer, much closer.

Then I realized it. In my efforts at being a subtle hunter, I had totally forgotten to look right behind me. She had to be there. But how would I turn my head all the way round without my intentions being embarrassingly betrayed? I didn’t have to wait too long for an answer. The pastor currently proclaiming something or the other, while pacing back and forth on the podium, stopped on his tracks, and ordered all of us to stand up and greet our neighbors. I jumped up, probably a little too enthusiastically. To cover my tracks, I must have greeted at least seven people on my pew before I turned round to extend the blessings to my fellow Christians on the row behind. Brothers and Sisters I was right. She wasn’t ushering today. She was another worshipper just like me. A strikingly stunning, radiant and oh-Jesus-have-mercy sexy girl who seemed absolutely oblivious of the effect she had on the male universe.

It was time to invoke the lingering hand shake. This time she would have to notice my smile. This time she would look into my eyes and God save my soul if I did not manage get a response from her.

I didn’t.

Her smile was cordial, pretty much the same smile she was giving the rest of the congregation. She looked into my eyes but only for a split second before moving on to her next target. With no eye contact, a lingering hand shake would have been a tad awkward so I grudgingly let go. The old lady next to her, whose hand was fervently awaiting an exchange of blessings with me, would have to find another worshiper as I was done with greetings for the day.

I had to suffer the torment of utter impotence for the remainder of that service. Meanwhile I strategized and exchanged telepathic glances with Tim.

Tim: So what do you think bro?

Lawrence: Can’t do much in here. Have to wait until end of service.

Tim: And then what?

Lawrence: Not sure, but I will find a way.

Tim: You have great faith man. Pastor James would be proud.

Lawrence: When you live my life, faith, good looks and charm is all you have.

Tim: I feel you. All the best.

Lawrence: Thanks.

Two cruel hours followed and eventually the service was over. I remained sitted, deep in meditation on the risk I was just about to undertake. The nice old lady whose handshake I had just ignored was obviously someone very close to this girl. Judging from how frail she looked, my guess was that she was the girl’s grandmother. The sad fact was that the girl was happily holding the old lady’s hand, and it was clear she would not be letting go of that hand until they reached their destination.

I was not about to wait another week to officially meet this girl. It was time.

“Excuse me, uhm, I’m Sorry. I think Mum dropped this”

“Uh, I…I don’t think so. Mum is this yours?”

“What? No!”

“Oh, I found it right where you were sitted, I assumed it belonged to you”

“Sorry, it’s not ours but thanks”

Finally I got the smile I had been aching for!!

“It’s alright. Where do we take lost and found items? Uhm, I am new at the Church”

“Oh, welcome to our Church!” That was Granma.

“Thank you Mum. I feel blessed”

“Just go back in through the main door, on your left you will see a big basket, just drop it there”

“Thanks. I am sorry to disturb you Mum, have a blessed day”

“No problem Son. God bless you”

“You too. And thank you”

I looked at the girl when saying that last line; slowly, all I needed was three seconds of eye contact. And I got it.

“You are welcome”

And there was the smile again, and I could have sworn a slight blush too!!

The scarf belonged to Christine, Tim’s Wife. She wasn’t particularly amused by the thought of her scarf being brought into my Philandering ways, but then again she silently hopes that one day I meet a girl who will steal my heart, and put an end to the shenanigans. If the Scarf would help, she was in. Christine has a good heart.

In my line of work, we call that ‘an entrance’. Fifth Sunday would be ‘a foot in’.

You might also like:

• Bad Boy meets Church Girl – Part 4
• Bad Boy meets Church Girl – Part 3
• Bad Boy meets Church Girl – Part 1
• The “Church Girl, Church Guy” Phenomenon
• Ask Lily: What makes a good boyfriend/husband

The post Bad Boy Meets Church Girl – Part 2 appeared first on The Lily Review.

Mature successful woman looking for her ideal man. Your kind, intelligent, can hold your own, confident, and articulate. You know exactly how to treat a woman like a queen…consistently and without complaint.

These are the sort of postings you find on dating sites, thousands of profiles that you are either intrigued by or skip over. I’ve joined quite a number of dating sites through the years, joining the “single and free” to mingle with the rest of the cyber lonely hearts, adventurers and imposters.

Determined to make that once in a lifetime connection I turned online to meet a variety of men in the shortest period of time. Clubs and bars were just not doing it for me but I will say the occasional house party offers better prospects. I don’t enjoy church functions, wedding committees and those sorts of gatherings so when I say the pickings have been lean I really do mean it.

And from this online adventure I’ve had four actual dates; two with guys who turned out to be married, one with a too young too broke and the final with the poster boy for the booty call lifestyle. Suffice to stay it has been a learning curve.

With time I’ve found it easier to be clear about what I don’t want than dealing with the bucket list of what I definitely need. Seems damn near impossible the other way around. So I don’t want a clingy, self centered or insecure guy who can’t hold a conversation, is unmotivated and uninterested in social issues and news in general. I have three children so obviously he can’t hate children, can’t be broke or have no sense of style. White socks absolutely not allowed. Also he can’t be shorter than me, geek like or a wimp. Oh and not fat. I’m petite and I am terrified of being crushed. Mmmmm…he cannot be more than 2 years younger than me. So there you have it… my deal breakers.

I will admit that my “I will not accept nor compromise” list has not made things easier but having a clear development plan has protected me in many ways and kept me clear headed in foggy or dark times. So when a friend set me up on a blind date I was expecting a half hour chat at most before I set my exit strategy into motion. Mr New Guy turned out to be a 10 years my junior sandal wearing geek…he was also incredibly engaging, funny, respectful and most importantly his eyes didn’t glaze over or dart around in panic when I talked about my children. Three hours later I really did have to leave. He asked if he could see me again. The list forgotten I said yes.

I spent three months talking myself out of dating Mr New Guy and finally gave up trying to cheat myself out of happiness. Yes we have a lot of things to work out but getting to know each other without being bogged down by sexual overtones and excessive cynicism is slowly restoring my faith in that tribe called men. There are a few good men still left out there and so begins my journey back into intimacy and love.

How desperately we wish to maintain our trust in those we love! In the face of everything, we try to find reasons to trust. Because losing faith is worse than falling out of love
Borrowed from Housewife to Heretic by Sonia Johnson

Photo credit: rolve

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The post A few good men appeared first on The Lily Review.

Like I mentioned in my last post, I dared to rediscover the tenets of my spirituality which Ma had so ardently instilled into me. This was back in the day when my lower half seemed to dwell on the pre-original sin period, and thus preferred to go bare. Being a Roman Catholic did not seem to be yielding the desired results in my soul, and having watched a few of those high powered Protestant Sunday morning sessions on TV, I figured why not try out these folks? So I called Tim.

He and his wife (her name is Christine by the way) are now devout members of a nearby church named Church of the Living God. I will not dwell on the implication this name has on other churches and the gods they serve. Let me also add that I use the word devout very loosely considering Tim would not be caught dead in a church if it wasn’t for Christine. To sustain this new found obligation, he has grown a disturbing liking for Gospel Music. During the worst part of these services i.e. the sermon, he goes into a temporary trance and replays the songs in his head. Those two hours fly by like a kite. If Christine knew this she would flip.

Tim was ecstatic at my proposition to join them for the next Sunday’s service. The thought of having me sitting next to him in a Church was far too amusing. But I was serious. I was going to give Salvation a shot, get me a Saved girl, preferably one of those fine mamacitas who I see leading Praise and Worship on TV, take her home to Ma, get this marriage issue out of the family discussions, get a couple of little Lawrenzoninos and consider that chapter closed. What could possibly go wrong?

Two Sundays went by. Two Sundays in which I woke up earlier than my body is designed to, took shots of really strong coffee to postpone the hangover for 3 hours, and waited upon Tim and his beloved Christine to pick me up. Two Sundays in which I had to watch two Pastors subjecting their Voice boxes to inexplicable atrocities. If you have a microphone, why feel the need to shout your voice box hoarse?

Two Sundays in which I had to part with Six rounds worth of mulla thanks to the watchful eye of a prowling usher, and the accompaniment of some Junior Pastor proclaiming doom for those of us who did not dig deeper into our pockets. Two Sundays in which I watched the rest of humanity feeling things I could not feel, speaking languages I could not understand and ranting ‘Yes!’ and ‘Jesus!’ over and over so many times I can still hear them in my sleep. It was torture.

I have to admit though that the musical spin doctors in this Church can give the DJ at Kamau’s a serious run for his money. I also got to watch some popular local Gospel artists perform live which was quite a treat. On this note I made peace with my departed 6 rounds worth.

On the Third Sunday I said a silent prayer to God before heading out to meet Tim. The Bible says that Three is a symbol of perfection, completion and fulfillment. Something about the Holy Trinity being a three in one situation. Being the third Sunday, all I asked God to do was be a sport and show me the girl who would fulfill my life long search. And he did! Can I get an Amen?

Stella was an Usher. I think she still is.

In a vintage beige flowery dress, complete with black leggings and a pink scarf draped around a slender neck, with hair so dark, so rich and modestly brushed down without the slightest effort to style it up, this Girl was a sight to behold. The only out of place thing about this girl’s style was the ugly usher’s sash that hung over her shoulder.

Now folks, I have never picked up a girl at a church before. Tim said all I had to do was offer a warm smile. But my smile is the kind that says ‘Your mirror does not do justice to the true magnificence that is the beauty that I now gaze upon’. Stella did not seem to acknowledge this tacit complement, as she ambled on to the next pew without offering even the slightest hint that I had made any effect whatsoever.

It was so on.

You might also like:

• Bad Boy meets Church Girl – Part 4
• Bad Boy meets Church Girl – Part 3
• Bad Boy Meets Church Girl – Part 2
• The “Church Girl, Church Guy” Phenomenon
• Ask Lily: What makes a good boyfriend/husband

The post Bad Boy meets Church Girl – Part 1 appeared first on The Lily Review.

I am 27, single (yes, again) and of middle class financial standing. Life is not going according to plan. Back in my campus days, when I had my whole future staring at me (to quote a certain lecturer), I made a vow that I would make my first million at 25. In fact, it was a pact between my roommate and I. He isn’t a millionaire either, but Tim (remember him?) is newly married. He is one gigantic step ahead of me. Turns out boyish charm, a six pack and a ruthlessly handsome face are not enough to land you a Kawify.

Mr. Editor has asked me to try and summarize my 2011 in as few words as possible, in exchange for several rounds at Kamau’s, my favorite local. I owe it to my gut to earn those rounds, especially in as harsh a month as Januworry. This month is cursed.

Spirituality
I made a futile attempt at reconnecting with my Spiritual side. I called up my Spiritual Advisor from back back in the day (funny I still had his number) and we had a lengthy chat. He shared the same sentiments he had back back in the day about sacraments, frequent mass, chastity and of course marrying a Catholic girl.

I had a stint at Church of the Living God in search of a Christian girlfriend, and as it turns out, they are just as screwed up as the ones I meet in clubs at Westlands (I have a whole story to share on this one).

I also made forays into the world of Islam, and honestly I admired their Spirituality. My contact from the Muslim side took me through the intricacies of Mohammed, Mecca and the whole five prayers a day fiasco. If you think Catholics are too complicated, try Islam.

Two months of searching and, nothing. My life was still better off away from the temples, mosques and churches. So I chose to remain churchless.

Relationships
2011 was an exploration year as much as it was a hell of a year in the bedroom. If my bedroom walls could talk they would be speechless. Having lost a very special girl in 2010, I went through a near fatal rebound phase while the rest of humanity celebrated New years. On Tim’s advice, I decided to focus my energies on my work and stay away from girls. This became tricky when the hottest Editor on planet earth joined the company as a consultant. The girl had it all; brains, beauty and a body that defied logic.

The girl turned out to be engaged, which in my world means at least three months of working my way in before launching the fishing nets. It took four months and it cost me a fortune. Despite moves that would have brought Condoleezza Rice to her knees, all I got from Mary was a peck on the cheek one Starry night and a ‘Lawrence, you are a sweet guy, but I’m Sorry. This cannot happen’. There and then I knew that fairy tale was over.

During my run-ins with Mary I also met Kanji, a sweet girl. Kanji was exactly the kind of girl my Mom was talking about. But I was too preoccupied with Mary to give her much attention. She met a guy, dated him for six months and they are now engaged, due to be married later in the year.

Crystal finally called on 20^th October 2011 at 10.46 pm (if you knew this girl you would remember the date and time too). She had been around the world and back numerous times. This was expected, considering she works as an Air Hostess. We had an amazing November while she was on leave, easily the best month of 2011 for me. She finally cleared the air on the Smelly Affair, and made me promise that I wouldn’t tell a soul that story (this excludes Tim).

The year ended on a high note in this department.

Career
I have worked for the same Agency for three years now. I’m not quite sure what the future holds since I haven’t given it any thought.

Despite almost ruining the impending wedding of my Editor, we still did two more publications together and they were a resounding success. My job title now has the word senior before it, which means a private office and an almost extra zero on my paycheck (damn taxes). I was happy to share the good news with Kamau, the proud owner of my local and my ever amiable creditor. I could almost swear the slight rise in EABL stock share price that week is attributed to Kamau and I.

Towards the end of the year, I was approached by one of my clients on the prospect of joining his company as Marketing Manager. Crystal thinks I should go for it, while Tim says I should give it a year for my ‘Senior’ title to marinate.

Social Life
Other than being one of Tim’s Grooms men at his wedding (can you imagine the idiot didn’t give me the best man position?), I wouldn’t say I have had much else of a Social Life. Though if you count the escapades with people’s daughters in and around this beautiful country, then I have had a pretty good Social Life.

Tim attempted to get me into a ‘Chama’. That was two hours of my life I’m never getting back.

Financial Well-being
I am not broke. Far from it, well, except for this silly month that is January. Despite being the source of half of Kamau’s monthly revenue, I manage to retain just enough money to put into a few investments here and there. My land lady (Tim believes she is trying to Cougar me) has let me in on a few of her real estate ventures and last December I got my first real return from my investments, a mighty handsome Cheque. Crystal is the proud owner of a very exquisite Necklace thanks to that Cheque. That necklace could have paid school fees for a couple of orphans, but they will have to wait until my next Cheque comes.

Family
This is easily the thinnest page in my book. My wonderful relationship with my Mom went out the window the day I resolved never to step back into any holy ground. My Dad and I are way too similar to get along. I have two elder sisters with whom I maintain a cordial but distant relationship.

And that’s it for Family.

2012
I know Crystal and I have no future together, so this fantasy that we are living will most likely end this year. Tim’s wife is expectant. This time he has agreed to give me the God father title. Mary is getting married in February, and I am the designated person in charge of drinks at the reception. A Sacred task. Something tells me Kanji and that guy will not get married. They rushed into this. If she gives me a second chance believe me I will go for it. Tim agrees with me on this point.

Have a superb 2012! Kamau awaits me.

Photo credit: dcubillas, glanzerr & v_hujer 

You might also like:

• Bad Boy meets Church Girl – Part 4
• Bad Boy meets Church Girl – Part 3
• Bad Boy Meets Church Girl – Part 2
• Bad Boy meets Church Girl – Part 1
• The Rebound

The post 2011 Chronicles – Musings of a lost Soul appeared first on The Lily Review.

How do you start a conversation on a topic that is practically taboo in a fairly conservative society? Bear in mind that the conversation has to attract as many people as possible and encourage them to discuss and share their experiences.

Population Services International (PSI) has been running a frontline crusade designed to change the sexual practices of the youth by enlightening and encouraging them to engage in safe sex by using contraceptives. Besides introducing affordable contraceptives into the market, PSI is involved in many educational projects including “The C-Word”: an initiative targeted at educating the youth on the various contraceptive options available to them, their merits and shortcomings.

In all its campaigns, PSI seeks to come up with initiatives that rhyme with the youth. As the world goes digital – with the youth riding with the tide – PSI has launched a digital campaign that will drive the youth to pay more attention to the C-Word initiative and help spread the word on safe sexual practices. The aim is to have more young people on Social Media embrace, discuss and share the message of use of contraceptives.

Hit the Iframe and join in the conversation now at: http://www.facebook.com/CwordPSI

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The post Condoms on Facebook? appeared first on The Lily Review.

I’m not sure why it rings so true. Speaking for myself, it’s pretty straightforward. I turn 30 in a few days, so my bio-clock should be roaring as I’m nearer to my sell-by-date. Luckily for me, I had my daughter almost ten years ago, which cured that particular bug. Another issue for women today is marriage, but I lived with my baby’s dad long enough to know that’s not for me.

Over the years, I’ve become rather skeptical cynical  comfortable in my lifestyle, and I’m not too keen to alter it for anyone. I realize that relationships can be a beautiful thing, but they require a lot of sacrifice, compromise, and … well … work. I don’t really have the energy for that. I’m a born romantic, so I have no problem with love – for other people. I do, however, have a lot of problems with love when it comes to me.

There’s another category of women, the type that think men are only after one thing. Possibly because they’ve only been with men who were after that one thing. So anytime someone shows the slightest bit of interest, it’s hackles out! Now, assuming the man in question is keen enough, smart enough, and patient enough to prove he’s out for more, that creates an entirely different scenario.

I suppose it goes back to the reasons why women want to get married: kids, legitimacy, companionship, social standing, nagging relatives, and yes, love. A friend of mine was once advised by her banker that she should get married to qualify for a mortgage, so finance comes into it as well. In the world today, pooling financial resources seems like a pretty good idea, even if you’re not the type that expects your taller half to pay for all the bills.

I consider myself a modern woman. I live in a flat with my daughter, and manage our bills with both difficulty and efficiency. I come and go as I please, except for calling up my little one when I have to stay late at work. I have financial plans, both short-term and long-term, and I have a fairly rigid map of where I plan to be in ten years time.

Given all that, there isn’t really room in my life for a man.

Now don’t get me wrong – I’m not any kind of feminist. I admit that I sometimes need a man to get a rat out of my house. But my brothers live five minutes away, and they do that for me gladly. I also have a lot more … shall we say … base desires. But it’s sometimes easier to get those needs met outside a marriage than inside it.

And here lies the problem. I have my baby, so I don’t need a sperm donor. I pay my bills, so I don’t need a financial partner. I need male company and advice sometimes, but I have friends, cousins, and brothers who provide that gladly. I have no immense desire for a mum-in-law, and I can get my horizontal needs without a ring. So, for me, marriage is not a necessity.

But if I don’t want him to marry me, what exactly do I need him for?

See, if I meet a man who’s after my … um … assets, then all I have to do is analyze my options. I can look at him, size him up, and decide whether or not he can ‘gerrit’. Simple. But if a man comes looking for more than a one-night stand, then what? I don’t want to marry him, because I don’t want to marry anyone. I don’t want to date him, because dating is a lot of work, and is rather pointless if there’s nowhere it’s going.

I suppose dating is about spending time [and money] together, getting to know each other, doing things you both enjoy, finding out whether you’re compatible. The key difference between dating and hanging out with male friends is that dates get horizontal at some point, and ideally, progress into long-term arrangements. But if I can get horizontal without the small talk, the wining and the dining, then why date? And if you’ve been labelled as ‘ungerritable’ then why not just spend time with you as a friend?

This for me, is the problem. The boy appears, we go out a few times, we have fun, maybe we even get horizontal, but he wants more. He is ‘genuinely interested’ in me. What do I do with him now?

There are still women who are looking for the happily ever after, who long for a man like this, a man who genuinely wants to be with them for more than just one night. But there’s also a large group of smart ‘independent’ progressive women who just want to have fun and live. Maybe when this group turns 35, they’ll be ready to settle down with guys that are genuinely interested in them. I don’t know what the odds are, and I won’t get into statistics. In the west, it’s perfectly natural for a woman of 40 or even 45 to settle down and start a family, but here, you still get strange looks if you’re on the wrong side of 30 and you’re not yet a Mrs.

My brother always says the world has a way of righting itself, so maybe by the time these independent women turn 35, it will be more acceptable to slow down and join the league of ball and chains. But until then, we will have some attending seminars like these, others complaining there are no good men left, and others being overwhelmed by good men that they don’t know what to do with.

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The post But…what if he likes me?!? appeared first on The Lily Review.

I have anger issues and it makes things really hard for me and my husband. Am scared, I try ways to get away from it like telling him to talk to me later but he goes on and that ticks me off. And I end up doing things that sometimes I don’t even remember I did.

Please let me know where i can go for anger management classes.

Rachel

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The post Ask Lily: Anger Management Classes appeared first on The Lily Review.

I have always been one to believe in love and I know that until I am no more something inside me will always love no matter what. I am the kind of person who even though you do the most annoying thing that apparently am supposed to be mad about, I will and then forget that I was mad. This is the contrary to love. If I want something I will go for it. Recently it has proved futile and I am beginning to think that probably it is because the game has changed a lot.

I am saying this because, how do you like someone who waits so long to actually tell you that they feel the same about you. And in this case its black and white, written all over them,you do not need divine intervention on this one. Pride is one thing that we all have and it blocks so many things on our paths. Anyway as a justification I am not saying that just because I am a woman that I will sit and rack my brain waiting for you to come up to me a month or so later with your feelings all laid down like an architectural plan.

You know, am coming to think that am better off saying and laying down my feelings for the other person to see and comprehend. Its like a whole load has been lifted off me. Later I can concentrate on other meaningful things in my life. I am allowed to air out my views on what I feel if it is for my best interest. All in all am still on this horse flying high no matter what he thinks. Funny thing is I never make excuses for silence,all I know is somehow he will think about it and when reality hits him, he will probably be too late to figure out if it would have made sense at all.

That’s just how life is!!

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The post Head over heels appeared first on The Lily Review.