I have quite a good number of failed talking stages but one that still lingers in my memory is of that lady I met in a matatu.
On that day, I hadn't intended to throw a shot. She was all beautiful and bootyfull but my 9-5 had drained all my energy to even spare a line on her.
But shit happened...
She was the type that pays fare with Mpesa. And while she was at it, her phone went off before the transaction could be completed.
Looking all worried and confused, she turned to me and asked, "unaeza kua na 80 bob hapo? phone yangu imezima before nitume pesa."
So, apart from her walking around with all that beauty, she also had a voice that could beat Adele on vocals.
Anyway, I foraged in my pocket and fished out a Ksh 200 note and gave her. She whispered a thank you then flashed a lazy smile. Around the same time, the conductor came inquiring, "ebu nione message," in a tone of mistrust.
The lady later insisted on texting herself using my phone so that she could refund the money when she got home. In actual sense, I didn't want her to refund, but I still wanted her number.
The back and forth created a great rapport and when I saw that "...confirmed you have received Ksh 200 from..." text later that night, I felt the urge to get to know her even more.
She was superb at texting and extreme fast with her replies. On calls, she wasn't that talkative but was fun listening to.
It became a norm keeping up with conversations daily, asking random questions - we would delve into what our love languages were, to our toxic traits and to the cliché questions of our favorite colours, type of music and movies.
She was my dream girl, no doubt. Our interests matched and we hated almost the same things - we would make a super great team. Just us against y'all.
At this point, like two months into it, everything was at gray area. Our feelings were mutual but no title stamped on the bond.
If she had thrown at me that famous, "what are we?" Question, bruuuh! This story would have a different ending.
But unlike a fairytale, this is how it ends...
All that fantasy and infatuation vanished. Just like that. At a blink of an eye. No apparent reason attached. Perhaps, I delayed to give her a clear direction or maybe she got married. Most probably the latter.
Now I am here left with a hefty information about someone's daughter. I can literally write a whole biography about her.