BACHELOR’S DIARY: Chonga viazi is real

Dear Diary,

I’ve always heard people talk about being told to “chonga viazi” when one can’t pay a hotel bill. I thought it only happened to stupid people. You know, how do you go to a hotel and eat food worth more than the money you have?

Then comes me last Friday evening. I’ve asked this gorgeous woman out to dinner. I have money, she chooses the restaurant. She went upscale, Kilimani. No problem. I’m not the kind to expect a lot in return just because I’ve spent money on someone, but it usually turns out that way anyway. If you take a date to a restaurant and she says all she wants is a glass of water, trust me, you’re going home alone.

She arrived on time, another good sign. I hate waiting and keeping time is a quality that tells you a lot about one’s character. She’s also very well dressed. This is someone who knows how to dine in top-class places.

I play my part and act the gentleman. I pull out her seat and make sure she’s comfortable before I take my own. Conversation is easy because we’ve talked before. She knows I work at the hospital and I know she’s in real estate. I have a dog, she loves dogs. In fact, she can’t wait to meet Puppy.

Then she makes a suggestion. “Would you mind if I asked you to do something for me?”

“Sure,” I say.

“Take off your coat. You can hang it over the chair.”

“Why?” I ask.

“You look so official in it. I feel like I’m at the doctor’s office.” She laughs. “I also want to see the body under the coat. A good physique is such a turn-on.”

Anything to turn you on, dear, I’m thinking as I quickly wriggle out of the coat. I drape it over the back of my chair and I’m flexing my muscles as I sit. Lady, you want a show, you get a show.

“Should I roll up my sleeves?” I ask.

She laughs again. “No. This is a class place. You want us to get kicked out?”

She’s right. We order. She gets grilled lobster, that’s a cool Sh6,000. I get a lamb shank, another Sh3,000. With a modest bottle of wine, we’re almost at 15 grand. I don’t mind too much. It’s been a while since I had such a good meal. And believe me, Melissa looks worth it. Besides, I did give her the reins.

The conversation is beautiful. Melissa talks international politics like a problem. She even surprises me with a deep medical conversation.

“You know what fascinates me about your field?” she says. “Alice in Wonderland Syndrome.”

I almost choke on my lamb. “You know about that?”

“Yeah. It’s amazing how a brain can see and interpret the wrong size of objects.”

“True. A person with that syndrome will see a chihuahua and think it’s an elephant. How did you come across it?”

She shrugs. “I like to educate myself on all kinds of subjects.”

As we near the end of our meal, I get a phone call from an unknown number. I usually don’t ignore them because it might be a client. And sure enough, it is a woman who is about to give birth in a taxi. I excuse myself away from the table and walk into the toilet to try guide her. Only five minutes in, she says she’s good and cuts the call.

When I return to the table, Melissa is gone. So is my wallet which was in my coat. And as luck would have it, I have no money on my phone because I prefer using a bank card.

Only as I do the dishes and wash lobsters in the restaurant kitchen do I realise that everything had been planned from the beginning. Including a fake phone call.