“I wonder why these things keep happening to me,” Aliti mourned.

Mourning won’t last forever, I thought over the phone call.

“Listen, let’s meet up for your game over the weekend, and maybe play some pool over drinks,” I suggested, hanging up and continuing to stare at Wauye’s piece on my wall.

Almost a year after I received it as a gift from a dear friend, I still gaped in awe every time I stood before the oil and chalk.

“Well, she’s a gifted curator, besides the beauty,” I mused silently, put the phone on the rugged, one-of-a-kind wooden coffee table, and dropped the stub in the coconut shell tray. “And now, the greatest art piece,” I marveled, walking to the mirror.

It’s said that if you look, if you really look into your own eye, you may stare into the pits of your soul and have a glimpse of who you are. If I had faith, I’d get down on my knees, but all I have is bad religion and nowhere to pray!

Tidit tidit tidit! Out of the reverie, the bodaboda horn pulled me. It had been a minute since I met my mates for a little banter over work, as we exchanged ideas and decried the dysfunctional state of modern society.

Oh! We all have enough emotional garbage to go around, but that should not mean that we should casually dump it on others on every opportunity we get.

As the cold air blew my face and the bike sped down Ngong’ Road, Aliti’s predicament came to mind. A good guy by every standard. Held down a job, didn’t smoke, drank little socially, and had never caught a case, not that I knew of.

Wait! And he bought gifts and planned dates, but now he was falling down a mountain of blues. Hahaha! I know I’m an a$$hole for laughing, but I also know that sometimes I’m right and sometimes I’m wrong.

“No, no, no, you’re very wrong,” was Marianna’s protest as I commented on the aesthetics of the coffee cabin where we were meeting, and with a sly sidebar on its suitability for a coffee date.

“How so?” I asked, taken aback. A few moments ago, all four were giddy with excitement, anticipating their mugs of selfie-coffee.

“Coffee date? Is it an interview?” Carol’s horror was palpable.

I confess that even as I share this with you, my dear reader, I still do not understand how revolting my comment was. And I was surprised by their reaction.

Now, looking at Lyanna, I held her gaze, the large, expressive eyes shielded behind thick glasses, and she burst into a broad smile.

“Now don’t you dare think there’s any reprieve here,” she said. “There’s no excuse for insinuating that a coffee date is worth a lady’s time of day.”

“You need to show that you are intentional.” Njesh said.

“Show how? I need to know you first before I even consider burning a tire,” I replied

“Haven’t you known enough, texting and calling? Don’t you know what it takes to even leave the house for us, ladies?” Marianna’s rebuttals came hard and fast.

Well, if you ask me, a spontaneous coffee date would be perfect for a date, for honesty is hard to come by, especially over the phone. A candid conversation, provocative questions, sly comments, and occasional teasing never go wrong.

I’ll know, and you’ll know, whether we’re both worth more than thirty minutes of each other's time. Now, why should I be intentional before I even hear a snort of hearty laughter from you?

Of course, I didn’t say all this because I knew I had already kicked the hornet’s nest and very much loved my sanity. I also didn’t want to be put on the stand in a coffee shop, defending all gentlemen against a jury of four smart ladies. Now, who would fancy that?

I say this with the best of intentions, in case Aliti chances upon it, just like any other preliminary, a coffee date will always be king.

“And why would one even consider a second date after such a cheap move?” Lyanna asked.

“Chemistry is undeniable; we might as well be licking ice cream at Uhuru Park on a Sunday afternoon instead of sitting across from each other, fine dining in fake satisfaction. And besides, a proper coffee date for two is not cheap, ladies!” I said, signaling the waitress for a single shot of espresso.

Or maybe that explains my current predicament. Sometimes I’m right, sometimes I’m wrong;

This is the midnight blues

For the girl I left behind me

Ain't it a fine old thing?

This is the blues

Just a feeling deep inside of me

This is the midnight blues…….. goes the White Flames.