• Bachelor's dating misadventures did not start yesterday, as he recalls
Diary,
For me, dating began going awry long ago. I guess one does not earn the title of “The most unfortunate man in dating” overnight.
Back in college, I kept pushing this beautiful girl to go on a date with me. I forget her name only because I worked for years to get her out of my mind. Man, did I work on it. I started with the misplaced illusion that my looks alone were enough to impress her. When that hit the rocks, I began touting my major.
“I’m doing medicine, you know,” I told her. “One day, I’ll be a great doctor, treating maladies all over the world. I’ll be a more eligible bachelor than Brad Pitt.”
By then, mind you, Mr Pitt was yet to shack up with the bombshell by the name Angelina Jolie. But even my comparison to a Hollywood leading man wouldn’t sway the girl in my favour.
As I laboured to get her in my clutches, I watched forlornly as she went out with other guys who weren’t me.
“Tell me,” I asked one of those blokes. “How did you get [insert girl’s name here] to go out on a date with you?”
The guy laughs. “Are you sure you wish to go out with her?”
“Of course. That’s why I’m asking.”
“Okay. I’ll tell you the secret since I was once like you until someone clued me in. And here it is. Nothing you say will impress her, she’s heard it all before. What you do, is offer her two things. One, invite her to an expensive restaurant she’s never been to. She can’t resist that.
“And the second?”
“When you go there, buy her chicken.”
That sounded easy enough. But how to know the restaurant she hadn’t visited?
I came upon a new restaurant in town, and I reckoned she couldn’t have been there. So, I shot my shot and invited her. Sure enough, it was new to her.
When we got there, she ordered a full chicken. A full chicken! It was Sh1,500. That’s a gazillion in today’s money, and I was only a poor college student.
Anyhow, I wanted to impress her. I got her the chicken and I asked for a glass of water. What happened next is the stuff of nightmares. She ate one chicken leg, said she was full and asked the waiter to take it away. Such a waste!
In a moment of genius, I told the waiter, “Will you pack the remnants for me, please? I’ll take them to my dog.”
The waiter agreed.
After the lunch, I was broke and fuming like a bull. I ask the waiter for my package. It’s too big, though, I figure. How can one chicken fill an entire paper bag? I look inside. Alas! I see the remains of ugali, gnawed bones, vegetables, and soup from God knows where.
“You’re a very lucky, customer,” says the waiter. “We had lots of remains today. Your dog will be very happy and very full.”
Now do you understand why I don’t want to remember the girl’s name?