Umbrellas, Sugar, and Daydreams

So, there I was—rolling solo in some elite lounge/club. No, not because I’m all independent or anything, but because I’m trying to treat myself. I’ve been under pressure lately, dealing with the usual life drama, and my friend threw in a little complimentary dinner to lift my spirits. Yeah, I know what you're thinking: New friends, please! But for real, when someone says, “It’s on me,” you don’t ask questions. You take it and run!

Now, mimi huyoooo, as soon as I sat down, the waiter came with this flashy menu. It wasn’t even a menu at first glance—it looked like a passport that could take me straight to Dubai if I was lucky. You know those ones you need to wash your hands before you touch? Yeah, that’s the one. The kind that makes you second guess if you should really be sitting there, especially when the prices on it could probably buy me a small car, or at least a decent second-hand one. But hey, I wasn’t paying, so I opened it like I owned the joint.

My elite restaurant etiquette wasn’t exactly St. Andrews Turi level, but trust me, I tried. I didn’t spill anything or make weird sounds when I took a sip, so I considered that a win. Hehehehe…

A quick scan of the menu, and I knew exactly what I wanted. Like, no hesitation. Let’s just say, my drink arrived with all the right vibes—sugar on the rim, a perfect lemon slice, a cut of fruit, and of course, the obligatory umbrella. Tsk tsk… you people, I thought. Mnajifanyanga (you do yourself) at times, pesa inasumbua (money is disturbing you). A drink with an umbrella? Kwani, are we at the beach or in the heart of Nairobi?

But listen, secretly? I licked off that sugar rim like I was having a private date with the drink. The umbrella? I almost ate it just like that, no shame! It was that sweet. Punde si punde, I was working on my second glass—sugar rimmed, fruit-filled, and yeah, I might have danced with the umbrella a little too much. Baaam, Satan!

Now, I’m the type who can read even in the most awkward places—be it a bus stop, a matatu, or an elite lounge like this one. So, there I was, trying to pretend like I was at ease, flipping through my book, when I hear a voice.

“Ehem, excuse me.”

I froze. That voice. Lord have mercy. This wasn’t just any voice. This man sounded like he had an equalizer in his throat, like his voice had a built-in JBL sound system—or maybe a BOSE? Either way, I couldn’t process it. It hit me right in the chest. Butterflies? Nah. I felt like I was being smacked with a full-on swarm of bees in my stomach. I think some even flew out my mouth like bats from a cave.

For real, I almost had a moment. Like I was this close to losing my cool. My brain? Total blank—I might’ve swallowed my book.

I cleared my throat and looked up—slowly. There he was. The man of my dreams (or at least my daydreams). Tall, dark, and everything he wore seemed like it was meant to look good on him and only him. His smile? Ha! That kind of smile that could break hearts and make loans disappear. He was dressed so well, I almost felt underdressed, and I was wearing my "fancy" shoes that I only wear when I want to convince myself that I can afford a Gucci bag.

He looked me up and down like he was appreciating a good piece of art. “You look like you’ve never been to a place like this before,” he said, his voice so smooth it could’ve melted my drink.

I swallowed my dignity and tried to keep my cool. “I’m just here for the experience,” I said, throwing in a little sass to keep it real. I wasn’t completely out of my depth… at least I tried not to show it.

He raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “An experience, huh?” He leaned in just a little bit, his presence so magnetic that the air around us felt heavier. “How’s that working out for you?”

Let me tell you, this man was too fine for my own good. My heart was doing the Macarena in my chest, and my mind? Gone. I couldn’t even remember if I’d eaten the whole umbrella or if it was still sitting there like some little trophy.

I cleared my throat again—so, I went with it. “It’s been… interesting,” I said, trying to sound calm, though my voice might’ve been just a little too high-pitched.

“I can see that,” he said, his gaze never leaving mine. “I like a woman who knows how to enjoy the finer things in life.”

I felt my cheeks flush. Now, I definitely knew I was not playing it cool. But his gaze? Lord. It was like he could read my thoughts, and I wasn’t even sure I wanted him to.

Just then, the waiter came over, placing a small dish in front of me. I barely noticed it. My whole world had become that smirk, that voice, and the fact that he was now sitting next to me.

“I’m just here for the experience,” I said again, hoping to sound cooler than I actually felt.

“Experience?” he repeated, his eyes narrowing with a hint of mischief. “I’m definitely in for that.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but just as I was about to, I felt a sudden shift in the air. My vision blurred, the sounds of the restaurant faded, and just like that... I was awake.

I shot up in bed, my heart racing. I looked around—just my room.

It had all been a dream.

A very vivid dream.

I sighed, feeling the remnants of that perfect moment. I closed my eyes for a second, and then I smiled.

At least now I knew that my elite vibes were 100% in check.