People lie. People never report their own faults when telling the story of the breakup. Everyone is a saint, and the other person is a brat.
I want to start a business. I will call it a consultancy so that KRA doesn't start winking at me. I will offer a simple service: getting to the bottom of things. Finding the median point between what she said and what he said. Bringing together two conflicting narratives to better establish who is telling the truth. I can already tell, it will be like printing money. Have I done any market research?
Well, I have several friends who are in relationships, a few more who are married, and I even know a few of those women who are introduced as 'besties'. I am usually absentminded enough that I can never tell when these situationships begin, but I never miss the brutal, inevitable fallout.
It is in the dregs of those ruined relationships that I discovered the idea that will make me a millionaire. When my good friend Musyoks parted with his long-time siren, for instance, it was a sad day, and an unfortunate evening if you happened to be a bottle of liquor in Juja. While depleting the stocks of his local, Musyoks informed me that the split had been occasioned by his bae's sudden, inexplicable ownership of an iPhone 13. Knowing her salary to belong in the 'woishe' category, Musyoks had no option but to do some quick Maths.
But a later conversation with the long-time siren would reveal that the iPhone was in fact found gift-wrapped in Musyoks sock drawer, ready to be deployed, she suspected, to her assistant girlfriend. Naturally, I was puzzled. Whose version was true? Whose iPhone was it? And then there was the baffling case of Brenda, one of my besties.
Brenda was spotted boyfriendless for the first time in her adult life, and her explanation was that her man had refused to lead cows to her village. But when I caught up with the lad, he angrily showed me photos of the cows and declared that he had made the trip to the village, only to be received by two kids he did not know his sweetie had.
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It is not uncommon, I realised, for breakups to throw up two wildly different versions of the same story. It is also the case that a breakup has a way of clouding the memory. An angry girlfriend will tell you her man has a short, uninspired stick, but when she was a happy girlfriend a few weeks ago, she would have murdered any woman who tried to reach for that stick. People lie. People never report their own faults when telling the story of the breakup. Everyone is a saint, and the other person is always the brat.
Well, no more. No more will we have to suffer the half-truths of the recent single. Armed with a dogged determination to get to the truth, as well as a practised eye for bullshit, I will marry those narratives and emerge with the gospel. We cannot continue holding grudges based on incomplete information. Nor will we be forced to cut off friends just because their ex described them as toxic. Not before confirming if the toxicity was mutual, or surpassed by the other partner.
I will interview witnesses. I will speak to mothers and mama mbogas. I will tarmac. I will study the footage. And, after brief deliberations, I will release a public statement detailing who was in fact telling the truth, and whose story amounted to hot air. This relationship did not end because of cheating, I will announce, but because the lady demanded acrobatics which fell well outside what the old man felt was 'respectable' in the eyes of the Lord. Missionary or divorce, he declared.