• A trusty old friend fails to empathise with the plight the bachelor is in on a visit to bar
Image: PEXELS
Diary,
For 200 times (I mean, already? It only seems like yesterday) I’ve shared my journey as a Perpetual Bachelor with you. It’s sad that on such a momentous occasion as this, I have to report that I’m engaged to the American bell Harper Johnson.
Last week, I asked her to marry me and wrapped a spaghetti strap around her finger. I’ve since replaced that with a proper engagement ring. Cost me a whopping Sh20,000, but who can put a price on love, right?
It’s a mixed bag of news. I’m happy that the bachelor has finally fallen in love. At the same time, I feel like I have betrayed everything I believed in. If marriages are a sham and they don’t work and they reduce a man to a zombie version of himself as I’ve claimed in the past, what will make mine different?
What am I now — the scion of matrimony that will change everything about marital unions? Or have I basically been a fraud?
I put this question to my friend, Azizi. As a tech entrepreneur, I trust him to have as rational a mind as mine.
“You know, when you say this,” he muses aloud between puffs of a cigarette, “I’m reminded of Paul.”
“Paul?” I wonder.
“Why, yes. For most of his life, Paul used to persecute Christians. Now the Bible is full of his ministry to the same ideologies he opposed.”
“But, Azizi, the Bible is Jewish folk tales. This is real life we’re talking about.”
“Shhh!” He puts a finger to his mouth, looking around the bar. “Don’t say that out loud. I have an eye on a certain beauty and she’s like an usher in her church or something.”
I sit back in frustration. “See? This is what I’m talking about. You’re willing to compromise your beliefs to get a church girl to like you. You’re as much a hypocrite as I am.”
“No, my friend. I’m willing to sacrifice whatever I have to so I can get laid tonight. You, on the other hand, are giving up everything to be someone you’ll hate for the rest of your life. Big difference.”
Frustrated, I stand up and bang the table. “You know what, Azizi? I hope your church girl swears to remain celibate until you put a ring on it.”
As it is, it seems I’ll be on my own as I try to navigate this state of confusion I find myself in. In the meantime, I go home to a warm house, a sumptuous hot meal and great sex. What could possibly go wrong?