• Doctor finds himself thinking twice about his bachelor lifestyle after horror date
Diary,
I made the news but not in the way I’d have preferred. I’m a doctor, for God’s sake. I should be remembered for curing cancer, or coming up with a solution to male baldness. I should be in the news for leading the first team to perform a successful head transplant in Kenya.
But no, I had to get on the news as the naked amnesiac. All I remember is going to a bar for a drink. Three ladies joined me.
The randy bachelor that I am, I zeroed in on the prettiest. The others took a hint and beat it.
We drank, talked, laughed, made merry as two consenting adults are wont to do.
She asked me to get a room. I asked her if she was a working girl. I try to avoid professional girls as much as I can. She said she was not, but she liked me and would love to spend the night. Jackpot, I thought.
Next thing I remember, I’m in a bed at Kenyatta Hospital, watching myself in the television. The footage showed me wandering the streets naked. Apparently, the “non-working” girl had drugged me and robbed me of everything, including all my clothes, then left me naked in an alley.
Maybe it’s time to rethink this whole perpetual bachelor strategy. If I had a wife, I would probably never have left home, never have met the drug queen, never have ended up naked for the world to see.
Then again, what if I end up marrying the drug queen? She would drug me and clean my bank accounts, too. Maybe I’m still better off single, anyway.