I've learned a few things about life...

1. everyone lies
2. everyone is fake
3. trust means nothing
4. promises are broken
5. expect the unexpected
6. not everyone will like you
7. you can't please everyone
8. looks are decieving
9. heartbreak happens
10. No matter how much you want something
change, it probably won't

Different Types Of Exes. There Are…

They come in all shapes and sizes, colors and heights, mental and physical states. When the arguments have ceased and the harsh words have settled, your once coveted significant other will transform.

The Angry. Either the breakup was your fault or they just can’t handle failure gracefully. Any mention of your name sends them spiraling into a vortex of rage and disgust. They’ll send you bitter text messages and leave offensive voicemails and eventually drown in a sea of vexation. The passion that once wrapped loving arms around you has turned to utter disgust. Give them time and space and understanding, as love and hate are not too distant of cousins.
The Heartbroken. Either the breakup was their fault or they just don’t know how to handle a lasting love. They’re willing to do anything and say everything to fix what the two of you so fantastically destroyed. You hear from mutual friends of their palpable misery and their debilitating despair and the pain painted on their face. Give them time and space and understanding, as any contact will only prolong their heartbreak.

10 Things Every Woman Should Know About Her Husband

Every man – like every woman – is different, but this may explain what’s going on next time you find him analyzing his fantasy team like his life depends on it. Not included: why he’s taking so long in the bathroom. After all, some things should remain mysteries.

Husbands need to feel needed
“For husbands, not being able to impress your wife from time to time is like Kryptonite for Superman,” says Lois Barth, a relationship and career coach based in New York City. “Just think of the movies most men love to watch: lone hero in the town against the bad guys saving the day. That hero chip is hardwired into most men – as long as we let them be.” Don’t rush to do the jobs you dread just to tick another item off on your to-do list – asking for help can bring you closer.
 
Husbands show their love through actions rather than words
Men aren’t as direct in expressing their love as women, and they aren’t mind readers. They want to know what women like and then give it to them. The more directly you tell him what you crave (“It makes me happy when you surprise me with dinner”) the more likely you are to get it. And when he does show you a bit of what you’re looking for, such as bringing you flowers, making a big deal out of it will help pave the way for repeat behavior in the future. Sure, woman appreciate romantic gestures, but being there when you need him – whether that’s when your car breaks down or your aunt passes away – sometimes says more than blatant declarations of love. After all, a sweet-talking romantic is great, but a husband who doesn’t bail in an emergency is even better.

The secrets of successful relationships

Every relationship  needs a solid foundation if it’s to survive all life can throw at it. This  article looks at the seven essentials that spell success.

1. Love yourself
Unless you love yourself, it’s hard for you to believe that anyone else will.
Self-esteem is important for a healthy relationship. When you truly like yourself, in spite of any failings and weaknesses you may have, you’ll feel confident. And when you feel confident and secure within yourself, you can enjoy being with your partner for the joy they bring to your life, not because you feel you need them to survive.
If you’ve had bad experiences in the past, it’s worth working through these issues with a trusted friend or counsellor. It can be tempting to lean on your partner and rely on them for reassurance, but the stronger you are as an individual, the stronger and more equal your relationship will be

It’s a “G” thang!

What is the general rule on making fun of gay people? This is an earnest question I’m posing. No tongue in cheek here. Someone please loop me in. Am I likely to start a storm in this teacup if I poked fun at gays? I’m sorry, what’s that? They will take offense? Really? What, gays can wear heels but are incapable of laughing at themselves? Isn’t that double standards and being somewhat uptight? (No pun, of course). Camaan!

 Listen, last month I read this Op-ed piece in the Washington Post about this rousing “renaissance” of gayism. It was a satirical piece that theorized the intellectual supremacy of gay people. The writer went ahead and dropped names of some of the most successful gay people in business, arts, culture and sports and tried to link their sexuality to their success. It was a foolishly hysterical piece because I’m sure there are also unsuccessful gay people. I think your level of intelligence isn’t dictated by your sexuality. Anyway, the piece came an inch from implying that gayism was the new green movement global phenom and it generated over 800 heavy-breathing comments by gays, homophobes, bible thumpers, and the French. I learnt one vital thing from that piece; that gays don’t use smileys as much as I had imagined.

Teeth for Sale, Fatherhood

After five years, she finally packed her stuff. Not that she has much. A few dresses. Half a dozen tights. Tops. Socks. Jackets. Knickers. Vests. Shoes. They all fitted in her small holdall. She seemed excited at the prospect of leaving, maybe because she saw this as freedom, as independence. She would finally be the lady she has always wanted to be, the lady she couldn’t be. She would finally do as she damn pleased. I wasn’t around when she left, but when I came back I knew she was gone because the house sighed heavily with her absence. And it was deathly still.

So after taking a shower, I succumbed to temptation and phoned her up and I inquired how she was doing. She said she was fine. (And you know what that means, when a woman says that). I asked if she missed home, and there was a brief silence in the phone before she said, “yes,” faintly, like she was embarrassed someone would hear her. Or maybe she was embarrassed to having to lie to me. “When will you come back?” I heard myself ask.

As a general rule, I don’t hang out in Westlands

As a general rule, and as a need to preserve my sensibility, I don’t hang out in Westlands. But I went recently, to pay homage to a friend who was having a birthday thing, and I was reminded once again why it’s not a place that gongs my bell. At dusk, Woodvale Grove transform into a green ugly vein of profligacy that throbs like a septic wound. If Nairobi is a body, then Westlands is it’s varicose vein.

It’s the gridlocked traffic at 2am, twisted and whorled together like overnight spaghetti. It’s the horde of drunken underdressed girls in their high heels and blood red lips and vacant looks, jaywalking across the road as they cling onto the arms of their men whose eyes twinkle with ideas. It’s the hubbub of the music spilling onto the streets from all the clubs competing for patrons. It’s the long-nosed young expats standing in the cold outside Bacchus and Havana Bars totally disbelieving of their good fortune at being in Africa complete with a gardener and a slender girl with half her tits in his mojito. It’s the spoilt daddy’s boys from Gigiri who crawl by the street in their latest serpent black luxury sports cars, with interior lights switched on so that you don’t miss the face of privilege. And in the air, the smell of sexual anticipation hangs like Limuru fog in July and will remain so until the dawn sunlight blows it away to Kitengela.