There’s a unique rhythm to mornings in a bachelor’s domain—a solitude that cloaks the day in a distinct flavor, like the first sip of coffee that bites yet beckons with a bitter warmth. The apartment sits in twilight silence, a liminal space caught between the sacred silence of dawn and the world’s inevitable buzz. It’s not emptiness; it’s a breath, long and drawn out, unhurried by the pulse of any footsteps but one’s own.
The hum of the refrigerator is a low, constant companion. You become familiar with it, almost enamoured, as it fills the quiet with a mechanical lullaby that grounds you. In the absence of another’s presence, your senses are heightened to the delicate nuances of each sound, each creak in the floorboards or rustle from the street below. The place becomes a sanctuary of little familiarities, your own haven of gentle static.
Sometimes, when the light slips in through half-shut blinds, you catch dust dancing like tiny galaxies, suspended in gold—a brief play of the ordinary turned ethereal. For a bachelor, the morning becomes something sacred, a chance to weave your thoughts in private, free from the interruption of another’s gaze.
Breakfast is a small ceremony of choice and simplicity. Eggs, toast, perhaps a dash of hot sauce—a single plate, a single mug. The flavours are yours, unshared, undiluted. You linger over them, savouring each bite, knowing that these moments belong solely to you. There’s a freedom in it, an awareness of one’s self that comes only in the presence of one’s absence. Sometimes, you find yourself talking aloud, narrating the thoughts that come unbidden, almost testing your own voice as if it too needs reassurance.
The evening comes as a welcome lull in a fine opera. She casts her dusky gown making the air fresh and restful. A joyful time for reflection has arrived. Shadows grow, stretching long against walls decorated with art of your choosing. There’s a question in the air—a silent, whispering invitation to reflect on what, if anything, might be missing. The edges of this solitary life may sometimes feel frayed, like a page longing for the touch of another’s hand.
The carefree existence that is characterized by bachelorhood sometimes flows like a dreamscape and fills with sensual freedom. Dirty dishes are sprawled across the sink. Feeling lazy, you pick up your phone and make an order. It's the usual, chips and chicken or pizza. At least, soda and juice are always in the fridge. When funds are low, the dial-a-delivery eatery comes through, bringing snacks straight to the door. You console yourself that come tomorrow, you will wake up refreshed and ready to clean up the mess. The laundry basket is overflowing with clothes that have seen better days. Tardiness and procastination are evident all over.
Weekends are meant to hang out with your buddies. Gaming sessions are full of rivalry. A single tournament will quickly invite a drink. Individuals are always willing to make a contribution. When you don't have plans early in the day, you engage in binge consumption of your favourite TV shows. Your buddies always start checking in late in the afternoon. Once in a while, you decide and explore the city. The leafy suburbs are clean and the sidewalks are lonely. Your eyes consume with avarice the green leaves above and the air is like a soft kiss from the winter.
Pedestrians are sparse here, easy to count as they strut and mind their own business. Residents have a preference for cars. They reign the streetscape. Gleaming Ubers, polished SUVs, and spotless vans glide smoothly down the roads. Transportation is stylish and pristine. The absence of matatus or buses is hardly felt. Why bother when one has a fleet of several cars, each brimming with fuel, at their disposal? As they say "Style is a given, luxury an expectation."
You reassure yourself that one day, wealth will be yours. You can't help but dream of one day acquiring such a grand standalone residence. In these compounds, only the lush trees and towering walls are visible from the outside. Rarely do you see the magnificent and imposing structure behind the walls. They remain a mystery, glimpsed occasionally when a guard swings open the gate and the grandeur reveals itself with solemn exuberance.
As a bachelor, Sundays are meant for recovery. Saturdays are filled with a lot of spontaneity. You may step out early in the day and return at dawn the following day. They are planless days. Often, you may find yourself swept up in the vibrant atmosphere of a club. And the hype in such an environment is liberating. It's easy to get caught in the revelry, drinking merrily and letting loose. You drink like a fish and relieve yourself like an elephant.
Clubs are the best places to find a randy damsel. One who can join in the fun and tag along after a few pints and loose vibes. If you find a naive lass, she is as easy as ABC. The night is mixed with unpredictability and a trial-and-error affair that involves finding someone interesting. In the process, you gather so many numbers, some that will never be dialled. As a caveat, you ensure mutual consent and verify that she is of legal age by double-checking her credentials via Safaricom Mpesa. Things always go down south quickly as the night winds down, and soon you’re in an Uber, heading to a fast-food spot because a bite to eat helps lessen the hangover that awaits.
Before you engage in the devil dance, you ensure you wrap yourself in armour. You never know who has the big disease on these streets. Sometimes everything may be fine but when you arrive, consent is denied. It is a sting that is sharper than a bee's. You are forced to beg but they echo into the void. She becomes deaf to your demands. Her decision is resolute. Like a man, you swallow your pride. You don't want a Diddy moment years down the line. You've heard stories of men pushing too far or kicking someone out into the night, but that’s not your cup of tea. That kind of pressure isn’t for you. When denied, step back with grace. Ukinyimwa nyimika.
Lonely nights have become a routine. Since you are not in any tumultuous relationship with a daughter of Jezebel, you find intimacy in a laid-back dating life. Out there, a lady you hope to build a long-term union with exists. A couple of times you call each other and talk about your future together. But a part of you is still envious of losing your freedom to someone else. The thought stirs a sense of reluctance within you. You have consciously decided that her visit will be brief then leave for her place. You cherish the autonomy of solitude.
P/S: The original idea was conceived and refined with the help of Chatbots.
Hasta La Vista Baby.
