Dating "Famous" Women

My friend, Paul, saw the last post and wanted to share his story. I hope you'll enjoy it as much as I have.

In my long life I've dated some famous chics and one
chic who wishes she was famous. Trust me, it's worse than
dating someone famous. Famous chics are paranoid for a good
reason. The paparazzi are everywhere and their
image is everything. Wanna-be famous chics are paranoid for
no reason at all! They imagine everyone is watching what
they're doing when the truth is that no one gives two hoots
about them. In a ridiculous display of vanity, they
imagine that all eyes are on them all the time when the
reality is that they might as well be a fly on the wall.

I had seen this particular chic severally but only got
to know her early this year. Her name is Nyambura.

Nyambura is your typical Kikuyu chic: Obsessed with rich
men even though she adamantly denies that she's a gold
digger. For what it's worth, I believe her. I don't have
any gold to dig for so she couldn't possibly have been
dating me in order to get to my pockets.

She's also down-to-earth in the way that only chics from
Kiambu (a region of Central Kenya) can be. She believes
that if you want something done well you better do it
yourself. She loves to have fun but she's not a party
animal. She loves to drink but isn't a permanently high
alcoholic. She loves sex but isn't easy. In short, she's
my type of chic.

At least that's what I thought.

We had been hanging out for over a month and had gotten to
know each other really well. It had reached a point where
she was calling me in the middle of the night and
demanding the immediate use of my body. In short, I was having a
blast. No commitments and pure enjoyment.

Still, there were some things that bugged me about the
whole "relationship". This chic, would catch a fit if I
held her in public. It was crazy. You'd think she'd got an
epileptic seizure. In fact, I had begun to think that I
was smelly or repulsive in some way.

It was so weird. She'd say something romantic while we're
having coffee. I'd smile in response, lean over the table
to kiss her and she would leap off the seat
with such violence that you'd have thought she was a trained
acrobat. Talk about embarassing.

Okay, maybe I've exaggerated slightly but the point is that
she has this allergic aversion for what chics like to call
Public Displays of Affection (PDAs). The aversion was so
intense that I had to find out what the hell was going on.
Why was everything always so cloak and dagger? On Friday, I
got my answer.

We had just spent some time together and I was escorting her
to wherever it was that she was going. She insisted we use
some back streets that I didn't know existed. I'm not a
suspicious man so I assumed that we were taking a shortcut.
As we walked, we joked and laughed, doing all the standard
mushy stuff that lovers do. Being the man I am, I got
inspired. I grabbed her firmly as only a rugby player can.
I went in for the kill. Those pouty ruby red lips were
going to be mine. She was willing. My Friday was set. I
had scored.

Just as our lips made contact, she suddenly pulled a move
out of the WWF handbook. I was flipped to the side like a
pancake, turned around and shoved into a nearby doorway. I
stumbled off the street and landed on a filthy stairway. What
the F*%$k!

I shook myself to get rid of the fog in my eyes. Goodness!
I didn't know she was that strong. I walked out of the
hallway, cautiously. I was a bit worried that this Amazonian
vixen would cause permanent damage. That's when I heard
voices that forced me back into my hiding place. One was a
man's voice. He had to be in his mid to late forty's. The
other voice was Nyambura's!

I leaned out of the doorway to get a glimpse of what was
going on outside. There she was standing next to this tall
caucasion dude. His style of talking told me he was Eastern
European. His suit spoke to his success as a businessman.
Naive as I am, I said to myself:

"Hmm.. that's probably her boss wondering why she's not at work."

I know that offices are intimate places these days but the
next move shocked me. She tip-toed, laced her arms round
his neck and planted an all-too-erotic kiss on his lips! He
smiled and took her hand, leading her towards a white Range
Rover parked on the side of the road.

I dived out of my hiding place to catch a glimpse of this
absurd situation. Nyambura didn't even turn around. She
played her part perfectly.

Today morning, I woke up to find a text on my phone. It
said:

"Sorry about yesterday. That dude was my boyfriend. He's an exec at an NGO and was supposed to be in Botswana this month. I didn't know that he was around! Now you know why we can't be seen together in public: I'm going to be famous. He proposed last night!

I had to laugh at myself. Famous women are just too much
trouble. Now to call a normal Kenyan girl to make my
weekend a bit more exciting.

Filed under: ChicOfTheWeek