My name is Ashley. I am in my mid-30s. Childfree by choice. Single and mingling. I enjoy dating. I do not love long-term relationships. At this point, I am probably okay with dying alone.

 It’s 9.39 pm. Martin just called me. This is the third time he has called this week. I liked it the first time, the call- that is. It made me feel flattered.

The second time, I hated it and so I blocked him. But because I am getting old and somehow I do not know how to use my phone, he called and I picked yet I had blocked him. How that happened I am yet to find out. I guess he has an app that makes his phone number block-proof. These IT guys. Not so good after all.

Martin is one of my exes.  One of the guys I dated in my 20s.

I have had my fair share of men. I can tell endless tales about my experiences with men.

There was the rapper. The two years we dated were pure bliss. I was a completely different person. I was gangsta. I was naïve but I loved life. I loved being with him. But he was broke. His music career eventually kicked off well so the money issues are no longer a problem. I left him because I thought I was too boujee to date a ‘broke’ man. Thinking of it now, that was dumb but it made total sense to 21-year-old Ashley. That’s all that matters. “Given our (and especially his) change of money situation, the relationship will work.” I wish on those lonely Friday nights. We can now go to all the places we dreamt of going. Smoke weed by the beach as we watch the sunset while dreaming of how one day we will go to Vegas. Invite a stranger; a girl to be precise and preferably one with blond hair aka a blondie then take her home. What we will do at home is up to you and your imagination. Speaking of imagination, I wish his runs even wilder. How I wish he is still as stupidly foolish as he was. I hope he still looks at life from an artistic angle. The things we would do with our kidogo money…. I wish that was Mr. rapper’s call. His call would excite me but I am 90% he will never call me. We ended on bad terms. We didn’t have closure but it’s okay.

Then came the daddies. You see, there is an age apo 24 when you start having that adult glow. I do not know what causes it but I think mine was because I had started making some good money. And so I was glowing. See, when you look a certain way you attract certain kinds of men. The better you look, the richer your suitors are. The richer they are the older they are. The older they are the heavier their baggage and so daddy’s calls would probably be ignored but efficiently kept for emergency. You never know when you need quick cash. There was a time I felt guilty. You know the thought of “Aki naeza kuwa nafanya bibi ya wenyewe ashinde akililia mungu baba usiku na mchana ati bwana yake anaibiwa” but right now, I do not feel guilty about them. As you grow older you make peace with many things. Among them that life is unfair but it deals us the same blows. As long as you are human with human abilities, you can do nothing about so many things and especially those in the past.

The good boys. These were mostly my campo tuboyfriends. They are very dangerous and will ruin your life because you met them when you were naïve enough to fall for the lies. So you fell for the lies. For my case, my good guy exes like Martin are all still accessible. When the relationships ended we got closure. So we are in good terms. However, we do not ati call each other every evening to gossip or flirt or do whatever exes do. Somehow, or maybe it is just for me, the attraction is still there but we know we are now very different people from the naive babies were back in the days.

You see these good boys, they do not call often but when they do, they changanya you bad. When Martin called, I guessed he was probably bored, and now that most people were out of Nairobi for the holidays, I was the only option. Either way, I still agreed to meet him. Apart from the fact that he is shy everywhere including where men are encouraged to be beasts, he is a cool guy. His pockets run deep and he is good-looking.  So we met at the craft beer garden in Karen. He came alone and we talked and talked. He’s still not a good communicator and so at some point, I was bored. We later went to Movenpick to do what adults do at night in hotel rooms.

Although on very few occasions, the good guy haves the last laugh.