It was one of those random Wednesday afternoons in Nairobi, where the sun was pretending to be polite, but you know how Nairobi sun can betray you in seconds. I had just dropped my son at my friend’s place for a playdate and was ready for a rare adult outing. My cousin, Stacy, had dragged me into this whole ‘let’s meet this guy’ scenario.
“Si you just come? What’s the worst that can happen?” she’d said over the phone. I rolled my eyes. Oh, the worst can happen, Stacy.But still, here I was, wearing a sundress that felt like a bribe to the universe, hoping it would make the date more tolerable. I got into a cab, greeted by the smooth-talking taxi guy. You know those guys who seem like they missed their calling as radio hosts? Yeah, that was him. He was chatting my ear off, which I didn’t mind too much because I’m what people like to call an “introvert with moments of extroversion” — a.k.a. I’d rather be in bed, but here I am.
“So, unaenda date, eh? Still in the game?” He teased, his eyes l flickering between me and the road. “Nah, si ati I’m in the game. More like benched, but people insist on pushing me back in,” I replied, half-joking, because it was true. Being a single mom has put me off the dating scene for a while. He laughed, the kind of laugh that says he’s seen a lot in this city. “Wewe, there’s nothing like being benched, Nairobi iko na men. Lakini these men, juu ya huko streets...eeh. Be careful.” I nodded, half-listening because that’s how it is. Nairobi’s streets can be chaotic, but Nairobi men? That’s a whole other level of chaos. You know you’re in trouble when you can’t decide whether to be more scared of the matatus or the boys in your DMs.
We arrived at the café—one of those trendy spots in Westlands with string lights and overpriced coffee. The kind of place that makes you rethink your budget but still, you show up for the vibe. Stacy had already grabbed a corner booth, her phone in hand, probably updating her WhatsApp stories about the ‘vibes’ before I even got there. “Here we go,” I whispered under my breath as I thanked the taxi guy and stepped out.
Now, let me give you a quick backstory about the guy I was meeting. His name is Nick, but everyone calls him "Nick the Fixer." Apparently, he could fix anything from a broken heart to a broken TV. He was the guy people called when they had a problem that needed ‘discrete’ solving. So, of course, Stacy thought he’d be the perfect date for me. I wasn’t sure if I needed my heart ‘fixed,’ but hey, a girl’s got to eat.
“Hey, Nick,” I greeted as I slid into the booth, all awkward smiles and small talk energy. Stacy, being Stacy, gave me a wink before ‘disappearing’ to another table with her other friend.Nick was…charming, in that smooth, practiced way. The kind of guy who has probably spent way too much time figuring out what women want to hear and perfecting it.
Within the first ten minutes, I had already heard his entire life story—he had two businesses, loved traveling (but somehow had never left Kenya), and was “very serious about finding the right woman.”Classic Nairobi guy talk. “Honestly, I’m not like these other guys,” he said, taking a dramatic sip of his smoothie. “You know how Nairobi guys can be…” Now, I’m no expert, but any time someone says they aren’t like other Nairobi guys, they are exactly like them.Still, the date was going okay-ish. I mean, we weren’t setting the world on fire with our chemistry, but he was easy to talk to, and I appreciated his hustle.
We were in the middle of laughing about some random story when my phone buzzed. It was Stacy.
Stacy: Babe, does this guy look like he has a baby mama to you?
Me: ??! How am I supposed to know that from looking at him?
Stacy: Just look for the signs. Expensive phone case? Too much cologne? Talks too smoothly? 🤔
I glanced at Nick. Expensive phone case? Check. Too much cologne? Check. Smooth-talking? Double check. I sighed and went back to the conversation, silently laughing at how accurate Stacy’s ‘theories’ could be sometimes. “So, do you have kids?” I asked casually. I wasn’t about to waste time.Nick hesitated for a split second. Ah, there it was, the momentary pause that confirmed Stacy’s suspicion. “Yeah, I have one,” he said finally, his voice softer. “But things with her mum didn’t work out. Co-parenting now.” I nodded, sipping my drink, trying to figure out how I felt about that. I mean, I had my own kid too, so I wasn’t one to judge. But co-parenting can be… messy.
We moved on from that subject, but it lingered. By the time we got to dessert (I had wisely chosen the cheapest option on the menu), the conversation was running out of steam. Nick was a nice enough guy, but the chemistry just wasn’t there, you know? Plus, something about that baby mama pause left me feeling like there was a chapter of his story he wasn’t sharing.As we said our goodbyes, I walked out, feeling both relieved and a little underwhelmed.
The date hadn’t been a disaster, but it wasn’t exactly fireworks either.The smooth-talking taxi guy was still parked outside, waiting to take me home. “How was the date? Yeye anaweza ama?” I slid into the backseat, laughing. “Anaweza, but si leo. It was…eh. You know these Nairobi men.” He chuckled, pulling out into the road. “Si nilikuambia, these streets, my friend. You have to be sharp. But kuna hope.” I leaned back in my seat, feeling the city’s lights blur by as we headed home. Dating as a single mum? It’s complicated. But hey, at least I got a decent smoothie out of it.
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