When It Rains It Pours

By The Kenyan Bar Guy

Published on 09/12/2022

You are young, sort of, you are on the fast lane of your career and not so long ago the fast lane turned into the expressway. Your phone always kept your ear hot and your thighs buzzing with calls. Everybody just wanted a piece of you. There was a sense of purpose in your voice. Your voice always sounded like it came with a pocket full of swagger and the air around you stank of chutzpah. You were never left out in any important decisions whether it be family or friends. You even remember that one time you were asked to be the treasurer in a meeting since your beards do not have enough gray in them to let you make chairman. Life was looking up. 

You know how most guys go visit dating sites and choose women as if they are looking for ripe avocados in the market? This was not you. Instead, you were visiting car sites scrolling at the models you have always ogled at and on the rare occasion visit the actual car yards just to have a feel of them. This was while most of your peers were spending their Sunday afternoons watching cars go around in circles or a ball being kicked around like a stray. Now, that was life. Confidence at its all high and a slowly creeping sense of self-importance. 

When it came to letting your hair down, you were on a first-name basis with managers at those sky-lit bars sitting gingerly on a pile of well-stacked rooms and facing a restaurant that looked like it wanted to buy it a drink. You had a usual. It is not really a high life until you have a usual and there is always someone specific who would serve it, you were the James Bond kinda guy. The person who serves too was an eyesore, not because she looked bad, but because your eyes hurt knowing you would never get to between those thighs that looked like a sunset over white sandy beaches. Now, that was you. 

Now, what most people do not realize is that this life does not come easy. It drowns you as if there is a boulder tied to your leg and you have been thrown into the ocean. All you want to do is to come up for air and breathe. Any kind of air you don’t care if it is full of deadly viruses, smog, or the stale scent that usually brushes you whenever you are in a matatu. The cliche advice you always get is to talk to someone. But, everyone you try to talk to wonders why you are complaining. You have a roof over your head, you have food on the table, you have a girlfriend, you have a “usual” and on a whim, you can finally talk to sunset thighs. That’s how you are dismissed and the show goes on. 

Remember that hypothetical boulder? Sometimes it is your girlfriend or wife. They have a standard they are used to and everyone always said how you guys always looked good together. At the end of every month as if they have a sixth sense, they would be looking at shoes and their hair needs to be done. The landlord is at the door demanding their dues, internet service providers are already spamming you with reminders day in and day out and some are at your door asking you to upgrade. It becomes tiresome. Finally, your head becomes busier than Tom Mboya Street at rush hour, the noise the bustle the alleys to avoid and so finally you cave in. 

Now, what is it that they say? The rubber begins to hit the road. You decide it is better to stay afloat rather than sink in despair. It makes sense. Maybe you were not thinking right but it does make sense. After all, you have done it before and it worked out perfectly. You ignore the status of the economy and there you are in a different headspace. Your best friend becomes that mounted television you have and Netflix. You wait until you feel it is time. The church bells have gone off in your head and are dinging, calling you to get back. Only when they do, there is nothing to go back to. Everything is a mess. You do anything and everything you have to and you find that it is a vicious cycle that has dragged you right back in. 

The “what are you complaining about” friends have all disappeared. When there is finally something to talk about these guys are like morning dew at 1 p.m. on a hot December. However, there are slight reprieves here and there for the soft skills you’ve learned and platforms like Cool Men that are there to maybe not carry you on your back but to guide you along the way. We urge you to subscribe to our newsletter, listen to the podcasts and check if you just want to talk shoot us a message. 

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