Brianelvis+ Cerebral

Brianelvis+ Cerebral

Brianelvis+ Cerebral

Wednesday, 27 May 2015


I love my wife. This should be the norm, but it is surprising just how many of my friends loathe their wives. To be fair to them, it takes quite some feet to live day in day out with another human being considering they are in possession of all their faculties and have the ability to make independent decisions half of which may not fly with you. It is a world of a 99 compromises, and losing your peace is not one of them.

My wife, like many other wives, makes her own independent decisions. It is a good thing, though sometimes I wish we were like literally one thing and our interests are so in sync that whatever decision she makes big or small will please me. Like when I want to get myself a Rottweiler, she would just go along with the idea. She would find me extremely thoughtful and a maverick in my own small ways. Or better yet, she would graciously exile herself when I want to call my buddies over and spend the whole day playing wager FIFA. Selfish huh! Anyway it is the real world and beggars do not ride horses.

Some good news though, I have been reading them inspirational books, and I came across this one statement that really hit a cord with me. This author (can’t remember the name) was of the opinion that life is not what happens to you, but how you react to situations (the happenings). Not that I am complaining about life or my marriage. By any measure it is a blissful one. Yeah I am living those happily ever after kind of marriages. But this statement got me thinking I could make things even better. Talk of trying to fix it when it aint broke!

So I decided I’m going to react in the best possible way to my wife’s independence. Instead of having her conform to my every whim, I’m gonna try and figure out how the marriage has changed her, the little nuances. I’m going to figure out what tickles her fancy now that she is older, and a little different (in a nice way)from the all-out frisky, free spirit I was dating.

I start working on my new resolve with the zeal of a KANU era sycophant. I want this to be special; I want whatever I come up with to be a surprise. However there is only one small problem with this approach, the lady of the house knows me like the back . . .  urg! She really knows me, which is a little unnerving, but hey. Nothing I do for her has the desired effect I really want, and I can tell it from the faked delight. I would like to believe it is the only thing she fakes.  In short ananioenea eighteen nikikuja. It is week 27 and I am starting to lose the morale.

One night, I’ve just entered the master from the bathroom. I started brushing before going to bed ever since I got married for reasons so banal I’m not going to highlight on this forum. She is already in bed, the TV remote controller in her hand. Some women’s talk show is on and she barely notices me disrobing. Lucky for her she got a hubby who can sleep through an earthquake, so the late night shows have never been an issue.

I am drifting off to slumber land when I hear the show host declaring that every girl, she insists on the “every” part quite passionately. My attention is piqued. Every girl would absolutely love to have a gay man friend. Yeah that is what she said! I have no idea why search a person is a must have, but all these images of those flaccid TV characters with squeaky voices and brightly dressed came to mind. Why do they always have them nerdy glasses? I did not think much of the comment, but it being my last thought; it naturally made its way into my dreams.

I saw my wife. She was with a man; she seemed to thoroughly enjoy his presence. The dream was fleeting but I can remember the background was a boutique. Or was it a shoe shop? What I am sure of the gel on the man’s hair would put J Koinange’s to shame. He wore red cropped pants and was seemingly allergic to dirt. What got me though, is that the missus absolutely loved everything he picked for her in that store. She never likes anything I suggest; it is always too . . . something.

You think, I would hate this guy or at least feel jealous? Isn’t it only natural? But I can’t. He is only a man in my dreams. If anything I should be ashamed of myself. Why is a gay man in my dreams? Does that make him the man of my dreams? Am I (even minutely) gay? Why am I not pleasing my wife in my own damn dream? So I force myself to like this guy. It makes me feel good about myself. In any case, he was doing something akin to magic, albeit in a dream. Being in a variety store, and making my wife decide without much of a hassle. That is reason enough to like this guy if you have ever been in a variety store of any sort with babe.

So the entire morning I am at the office, mulling over this dream. I am going all Nebuchadnezzar over the “wonderings” of my mind the previous night. I do not have wise men at my disposal or seers so I have to figure this thing out alone. It is 4:30 pm after long hours and little work done (thank god for whoever convinced us that delegation is good), I get my eureka moment. Haile needs a gay man friend. I realize that a man is either nuts, or has swallowed a king size humble pie to entertain such a thought, and way more loose nuts to even contemplate ways of realizing this.
I am a normal man, so I quickly dismiss the idea and go on with my amazing life. Nine days later the thought is still stuck in my mind like a Marilyn Monroe pic. It follows me around like that street urchin who wants “kobore ya mandazi”, and I gently try to tell the inner voice, “aki sina leo bradhe.” The voice simmers for leo and waits for kesho so that it can erupt and nag again the whole day.
Finally I give in after a few days and reach into my pocket for the “kobore”, a fifty bill comes out and I can’t put it back. That is how iffy giving into a crazy idea can be.
You would think finding gay people in Africa is akin to mining, considering how intolerant and prejudiced we are, Lo and behold, all I needed was a quick facebook search. Found twenty groups in my town alone. So I thumb through the various profiles looking for the “most acceptable” among them.

I settle on one, his bio pleases me and the avatar is the most girly of them all. The image on the avi is light skin, and he spots long hair. I am walking on unchartered territory here and there are no defined rules on how to pick them. So I make my own and blend them with my inner manly compass. Wait a minute . . . what the! What pleases me the most his bio says that he is seven years older than me. I don’t quite believe it because his pictures make him my age mate. If there is any truth to it, then he is eleven more than Haile. If there were any rules for doing this, I bet my heart that this would be the cardinal one.

Anyways a man has to do what he has to do, and I am swallowing my frog in the morning.  I reach out to him. He is a little apprehensive at first, good thing I wrote on his wall and did not inbox him. A “social media expert” once told me it creates a subtle image of “openness” and “goodwill”.
There are many details, but the short of it is that we somehow hit it off. He turns out to be an amazing guy. I develop an honest liking for him, and I want to hang out with him more than with my traditional friends. Weeks into the new “relationship”, I am having second thoughts about “gifting” him to my wife. Childish heh! But I am who I am.

By some amazing grace I overcome my selfishness, and take it to the next level. No more meeting at the golf course or during the game or anywhere away from home. I take him home. It was a rained down Friday when we first went to my house. I sensed a chill in him for Haile, but wifey was her usual bubbly self.  Too eager to play wonderful host she did not notice.
I kind of . . . no, I REALLY liked the fact that he was more fond of me than Haile. Finally I was above her in this area. Everybody loves the wife wherever there are visitors around. My parent, her parent, my friends, her friends, neighbours, the neighbours kids even Jehovah’s witnesses. Now it was my turn and I was going to savour every jiffy.

Evil conniving Haile however always has an ace up her sleeve. Her bewitching charm. By the time the evening is over, the lad had opened up to her, and they had struck some form of rapport.
“I really like Prexidious,” she quipped when the taxi peeled away taking our new friend back to his place. “You really should have more friends like him, akina Mato and Jaymo are absolutely no good.” She declared as she walked up to the house, leaving me behind to close the gate. I followed her back into the house, a feeling of trepidation hanging over my head. What had I just done? What if I changed my mind about this whole experiment, or this Prexidious guy? Would I be stuck with him, because my wife likes him? What if he magically turns straight and takes my wife? What will I say to people? What if? What if? What if? I counted them that night like sheep until mercifully sleep came to my rescue.

Not long after, Haile stole my friend. They were always hanging out and making her smile in ways I could not. It made me happy, and yet apprehensive. Could he possibly replace me? This friendship technically is cheating, I thought. Still I consoled myself; he is for all purposes and intent, a girl. I even entertained the thought of having a three people relationship where the other two were, as far as I am concerned, girls. Just in case things go south in this arrangement, I will be at peace knowing that it was not because of an inadequacy on my part.
All in all, that is how my dream came true and I ended up in a complicated relationship. A year down the line, things were still holding up.
We were in bed, my wife and I, just the two of us hehehe. She was watching those late night talk shows she really loved and I was typing out a story on my laptop. The missus suddenly jabbed my ribs with the point of her elbow so hard, I almost screamed. “Are you trying to kill me woman?” I hissed out through gritted teeth. “I just realised what you did with Prexidious, I surely did not see that coming. Nice move babe.” But do I say, I love my wife.