Praise, Like Diamond and gold, Owes it’s value only to scarcity.
There’s something about him. Something gorgeous. An aura that sort of makes you enjoy being in his presence. Certainly looks like the kind of man who identifies as an alpha. Every move he makes, words he says and steps he takes are calculated. He owns the room. He is breathtaking, to say the least.
“I once went with a friend of mine to a wedding and when we alighted he said, “Me I will never do a big wedding like this. I just want a simple one.” Then I told him that what you ask for is what you get. If you pray for a sinia of diamond and gold, God will give you just that. Same case applies to when you ask for a baby plate,” he says then raises his glass to his lips.
It’s not what he says, it’s the way he says it. His is a voice like that of Freddie Mercury. The kind of voice that makes you certain God exists. It’s in the way he says mazeltov. It baffles you that a man of his age could actually use the word mazeltov, and appropriately. If the perfect archetype exists, then he has to be it.
Whiskey guy (let’s call him that) is drinking an Irish whiskey, neat. There’s no chaser around- no coke, not even water. He is not making questionable faces whenever the whiskey is going hard on his throat.
EDM with a huge bass is playing. The balcony is dimly lit for reasons best known to event organizers. Whiskey guy leans in and says, “You know, I came here with my son but he left and said he wants to go to his friends in Club X in town. I know it can get boring in this place of ours. We try though. How is the music? Is it good?”
Before you offer an answer, the waiter stoops in with the water you had asked for thirty minutes ago. He looks tired, like he’s had a lot of complicated orders. It’s 31st December, so he really should have braced for this. You decide to cut him some slack. So instead of saying “ Na hii maji kwani imetoka Gilgil?”, you choose to say “thank you”.
Because he never hears anyone saying thank you at the club, he stares at you for a moment there. Everyone else at the table also stares. Whiskey guy stops talking about how he was a teacher but quit to go full throttle in business also stops talking. The poor guy you came with whom you’ve been neglecting stares. (Jim is his name. And neglecting him isn’t your fault though, whiskey guy keeps talking and talking. He could talk the whole night.)
You are taking beer. You have been taking a lot of beer lately. Not that you don’t know it isn’t good for your tummy, but you keep telling yourself that the squats and plunks you do daily have you covered.
ALSO READ; PEEKABOO
The only time you finally get to speak to Jim is when Whiskey guy steps out to smoke one of those fat Cuban cigars.
“Listen, Whiskey guy is already drunk. And I don’t want you falling into his traps. I have been with him long enough to know his game. He likes young girls like you,” he says, and you are not sure which is speaking, the gin he is drinking or the green-eyed monster.
“But I am not a young girl anymore,” you say and he laughs hysterically. It pisses you off. He pisses you off. You are aware that he is crazy over you: though it beats you why men who are afraid to express themselves hint to girls they like by pissing them off.
You don’t really like him back, but he’s persistent. He isn’t your type- for starters, he is way shorter than you. And he thinks that men who cook at home aren’t real men. To add the cherry on top of the icing, he drives a Subaru.
Whiskey guy comes back smelling of burnt cigars and says, “I love that song. It reminds me of my ex-wife. Can you guess how old I am?”
“Fifty three?” you offer.
“Wrong, but close. I am fifty one.”
“You look good for a fifty one year old.”
“Thank you, you want to know why? It’s because I chose to stay away from women and focus on business,” he says with a frown.
He goes on and on and on. A lot of what he says goes past you. He is friends with Jim. Both with whooping differences but one thing in common. They are both business men, who don’t let the enormous age gap between them bring any differences. They are men. Men of honour and dignity. Of diamond and gold.
A phone buzzes. It’s Jim’s. He brings his phone towards his face to try and identify who the caller is. Then he presses the power button, letting his phone ring on silent. Moments later, the phone rings again. He looks at his screen as if deliberating on what to say. He collects himself and steps away to take the call.
“Jim is lightweight. He’s a goner already. Mimi ni guzzler…bazzu. I will take care of you. And why are you not drinking? Are you fine? Do you need anything? What is it you want?” Whiskey guy whispers.
It’s strange; how busy two men could be, so much that they afford to miss Amerix on Twitter advising men against slandering another man to look good before a woman. Or something.
Jim comes back staring at his phone.
“It’s 11.59!” he declares. Then to no one in particular, says ” Happy new year!”
“Happy new year, brother from another mother!”Whiskey guy mutters while standing up to hug Jim.
PS; Men! Am I right?