There is something Christmas-Evey about going to bed on the night before a date with a lady that you have never physically met.
After chatting on social media for weeks, she gives you her number and agrees to a date.
Adrenaline pumps through your body.
Just like Christmas, you have great expectations for the day of the date.
A bewildering array of thoughts play in your mind and you just can't sleep.
That night, I couldn't sleep a wink.
Finally, after begging for days on end, Medina had confirmed in a text message that she would honour my request for a date.
I loved this buxom Somali queen from Afgoye, a blood-soaked town in southern Somalia that had been overrun by Al-Shabaab militants.
Her elegance and beauty reminded me of the ravishing Egyptian ruler, Cleopatra.
I had sent her 5000 shillings as fare.
To impress and demonstrate to her that I was a man of means, even though I was a cleaner at a City Council toilet, I made a reservation for a deluxe room at the Nomad Palace Hotel, a high-end hotel owned by Garissa Township MP Aden Duale, a scheming political operator who broke the heart of the high-tempered Nazlin Umar.
****
I took a quick bath, hunched myself into a crisply-pressed grey suit that I had borrowed from a friend.
Standing in front of the mirror, I smiled like a fool.
Geez! I looked like the Kenyan version of David Beckham.
Satisfied with my look, I stepped out with the confidence of Barrack Obama and Kim Jong Un combined.
Blood rushed through my veins at the thought of Medina granting me access to her 'IEBC servers', not Read Only Access but full access.
I had carried with me tons of protection in anticipation of that prospect.
It would indeed be an evening of fire.
****
At the Nomad Palace Hotel, she was nowhere to be seen.
I waited and waited.
Her phone wasn't going through.
That's when it dawned on me that I had been played.
#hivisasaoriginal
#MyLifestyle