WHEN CAT MEETS FISH.

The closest I ever came to seeing a “nude” in high school was through one of my dorm mates back in high school. This fella (whom we’re gonna call matey) had received a photo (we called it a snap back then, sigh) with two girls in it and as you’d have guessed it, a dark skin and a “yellow yellow”. Matey had received a “through pass” from a certain chick friend of his who had her girls do the old penpal invite on us boys. 

It was no secret that matey treasured this photo and given its raunchy nature, with creamy thighs and blossoming funbags(read boobs) on display, it never left his wallet.

One night though, during a scouting trip, we were discussing the chics in that photo going all descriptive on the nasty things we’d do to the light skin that we all liked, his “chic”, so to speak, lauding him for that score. About thirty minutes after the last words were said, I heard some moaning and groaning sound emanating from the back and with the help of a flashlight, I looked over and saw matey seated there, fapping! I gave him a “WTF DUDE” only for him to quip, “I thought you guys were asleep”. 

A month later, after the short holidays I bump on him in the bathroom humping a chapatti, yes, a chapatti with no photo this time. I was livid, I mean, of all the things he could have used, he settled for a chapatti and lotion, I mean he could have molested a doughnut like a decent human being but no, he had to use a chapatti. Turned out that he was duped and the chick he was sending letters to had all along been the not so appealing dark skin. Needless to say, he lost his trust for chics after that encounter. He was a weird one, that one.

Fast forward to a few years later when a testosterone charged me discovered the existence of 2go dating site. Chatrooms were always full and your fate depended on how witty you are. So, I log in one day, scan through the creative minds and as usual, start darting one of the broads in there. The chat shifts to private and as expected, we exchange photos, only for her to send me a photo of my friend claiming to be her. I played along asking her where the photo was taken, she goes on to say at their backyard, which was all a lie since I’m the one who had taken that photo. I call my hot friend and she tells me that her boyfriend disliked the idea of her being on that site, which automatically means that I’m dealing with a phony, or a catfish if you may. I call out on her but the daft her still insists its her on the photo. She blubbered on for a moment more before giving in, and admitting that she had lifted the photo off Facebook. This was a bit sad as I could imagine all the fellas who had fallen prey to her scam.

Which brings me to the now infamous Wanja Kavengi. An account that had all the men (read team mafisi) wagging and wanting. I knew Wanja through a close friend,Shoba Gatimu Harrison . He had shared her profile for all and sundry to feel bad about their lives for not being that stunning. She, rather, the photos she posted were so gorgeous that you could sense a boner from a heartbeat away. Fate would later confirm that she had lifted the photos from a certain Florida fashion blogger namely Pankypops, much to our dismay.

Our first attempt at flirting came after we inboxed, poetry being the initial subject, or an ice breaker to some of you. Her impeccable command of the Queen’s language was enough to cause an intellectual stimulation, which is all that matters to me. However, there was this little matter of distance that made me keep my checks in order and become content that friendship was merely enough, though I did enjoy some photos, ahem. Someone sneeze.

Wanja and I (and a few other fellas, albeit incognito as I came to learn) had grown fond of each other. I don’t know of her ties with Safaricom but boy! That woman could call! I can’t quantify the many hours she made the calls and as you’d have guessed, she always left you begging for more.

She had a boober, Max, who always threw baby tantrums every time mummy was on the phone with me, I don’t know if Magunga Williams stance was any different. 

I remember her coming out of the closet and admitting her love for Givens Mideva (who by the way was also a close friend, I knew her from Twitter), her initial attempt was to see my reaction, which was receptive since, let’s face it, she was too hot to handle, and in as much as guys like me are born loving such women, they’re equally bad news, and self-awareness is key here.  

I have since tried to make contact but Givens’ number was active two days ago, though, for reasons only she knows, my calls went unanswered. Wanja’s number has been inactive for as long as I can recall. Max, oh well.

I can’t disclose some classified information we exchanged, for the fear of incriminating myself but that surely was a nice ride. As I said earlier in my update, While all and sundry are busy uttering jibes to Wanja, I highly advise the lot who camped in her inbox with gory descriptions of what they'd do to "her" to never consider running for a government office. If malice was in her nature, I know some of us will close accounts and relocate to Timbuktu. 

The phobia of self acceptance and the insatiable hunger for validation from strangers online is what drives even the wittiest of them all to adopt disparaging antics like using fake photos. While she had a buttload of wits, knowledge and humor, for a smart person, that surely was a dumb move by Miss Kavengi.

And that I don't agree with her choice of photos, that doesn't in any way undermine the respect I have, yes, have for her as a writer and a friend. Her raw brand or writing had many glued and while I went a mile ahead and got personal with her, and her friend Givens, I won't judge her (just a little)she was good people (Yes, that’s an entendre), just not entirely honest, but then again, who is? But all in all, I can now firmly say I’ve ascertained why I can’t be a fisherman, we all know the type of fish I’d catch.