Everything happened so fast that I can barely recollect the memories. Basically, our relationship went on a downward spiral in the brevity of eleven months, and it’s daunting to piece everything together.
One night, we were singing along to Savara of Sauti Sol at Nairobi Street Kitchen, vibing to his latest EP till three in the morning. The next day, I opened my eyes to a tall light skin man walking across the room naked. I almost gasped, but his warming smile made me blush instead. Everything about his space exuded elegance with a touch of class. I loved how manly his space looked, from the rugs on the floor to the cutlery in his kitchen; stellar.
Julian was the ‘It guy’ when I first met him. He was so tall, wore dark shades, had impeccable fashion sense, a well-shaved beard, manicured nails and dreamy eyes. To top it all, he spent money. How he spent money on me was definitely the major reason why we got together, but I have never cared to admit that till today.
I’m not even going to lie, I was tired of my long-ass relationships that drained me. If I wasn’t paying for their Wi-fi, I was buying them household essentials. It was always one thing or the other. Sadly so, when a break-up was looming, I had to steal some of the priced things I had bought so that the next lady doesn’t get to enjoy my hard work. Petty but hey, I made that coin!
Just to be clear, I think women should stick to buying men undergarments; socks, boxers and vests until they put a ring on their fingers. If you must go all out on them, then at least make sure they have invested that much money in you. Why? Because how many men are you going to build, till you finally meet the one that wants to see you succeed? Hello? You are not Gabriel Union, are you? Even in her case, she makes quite the cash, and it’s what she wants for herself, we both know Gab wasn’t speaking for all of us now, was she?
Rich coming from me, right? Because a girl did build at least three boyfriends who ended up cheating on her and throwing around reckless comments like she had a stiff waist. But this wasn’t meant to be a rant, a lesson probably, to the young ladies stuck up in their boyfriend’s house, cooking, cleaning and washing for free; may the Cardi B WAP gospel find you, sis.
So, Julian, my rich, cultured man would send me money for hair and nails; a handsome amount. We’d go out on dates every other weekend and I was basically living my dream relationship life. First off, there was no constant manipulation about how we should build together, hoping for a happily ever after only seen in movies. Secondly, there was never insecurity, constantly wondering who is he talking to, where is he and what is he doing. It was my first safe, financially and emotionally secure relationship, so I seized it.
Everything was so damn good that I ended up moving into his house, and quite frankly, there was never a change of things. We still went out on dates, spent quality time together and his financial obligations to me were intact. That was the classic baby girl experience and I lived for it. So much, so that I moved in with him. Hurray? No.
My little bubble, however, only lasted about six months, when Julian, without my knowledge, tendered in his resignation letter. I mean, he had talked about quitting his job on several occasions, I would believe he had a plan B. I trusted him so much, that I assumed he was tight-lipped about his next plans because he was still working on them. Woe unto me.
The first two months after his resignation, everything was pretty much the same, as we used his savings to take care of things around the house and I knew things would go back to normal when he rolled out his plan B. To my surprise, there was never a plan B. He involuntarily told me about his resignation because he thought it wise that we cut down costs until something befitting came around.
“What do you mean something else come around?” I questioned the night he brought up that conversation.
“I haven’t gotten a job offer yet, so we need to use money sparingly as we wait for an email to drop in my inbox”, he laughed softly.
“You quit your job? Just like that? Are you serious?” I probed.
“Babe, I’ve told you already, the ladies make that environment hell to be in. As the only male working there, I’m so caught up in loads of their nonsense, it’s draining,” he said innocently.
“But who leaves their job without a plan babe? What were you thinking?” I was visibly annoyed and I didn’t try to hide it.
“We’ll be okay babe, we can rely on my savings for now, everything will go back to normal”, he reassured me.
Nothing ever went back to normal ever again, we continued plunging into our financial struggles deeper and deeper. Things got so bad that I had to shave my hair to cut costs that weren’t exactly essential. Julian had resorted to emotional blackmail; reminding me of how great things were when we first got together, begging me to stay by his side.
I was never planning on leaving, he too was so sure about that. But the insults and dependency on his family drove me away. His mental health had deteriorated over time and it got to a point that all I felt for him was nothing but pity. However, my decision to stay was met with a lot of hate from his siblings and family. I had started a small catering business that catered for most of our needs and some of his siblings, but the pressure crippled me.
His aunt kept on calling him, claiming I’m the bad omen that brought poverty upon his life. She would say “Mwanangu, huyo kombamwiko huyo, kaleta janga hili maishani mwako” which translates to “my child, that cockroach is bringing disaster into your life“.
Not once did Julian speak up for me, he instead, nodded his head in agreement and apologized to me in private. So the evening I got home and met his aunty breathing fire in our squeezed living room, I didn’t bother to engage in her tantrums, I simply reached for my already packed suitcase in the room and left.
Julian didn’t try to stop me. He sat there, quietly, nodding his bald head to everything his aunt said. With all the regret resting on my shoulders, I only asked myself one question, when will I ever learn? Julian called me about a week later, probably after his aunt left asking me to come home. The audacity!
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