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I’m reading a book,“Gone Girl” By Gillian Flynn that reminds me of a psycho girl I once dated.

She was beautiful;every other man would have envied me,but only I knew that she was a beast,a beautiful beast!

Of course you have dated a crazy woman, unless, of course, you’re 24 years old, in which case your time is coming.

Hang tight.

West Pokot(Google it please!) is where I’m cooling my heals on a tour of duty.

There is not much to do here after work,so I’m reading about this crazy girl,Amy Dunne,a colourful character in this book.

The craziest thing about dating a crazy chick (and the most ironic) is that crazy chicks
don’t look crazy, least of all act crazy.

Crazy chicks are caring.

Very tender.

They are oh so mild.

Oh so loving.

They will serve you food.

They will tenderly rub your back when you are feeling blue.

They will drive across town to grill your steak.

They will even remove wax from your ears.

And all the while it’s “baby” and “darling” and “honey.”

Your pals will see how she fusses over you and they will go, “damn man, does she have

And for months, many months, she will be
agreeable and loving and you will be riding this
dangerously deceptive wave until one day she shows you her barbed tail.

Then they want to kill themselves if you dare leave them.

Or park outside your gate, on a Saturday afternoon, until the watchman comes over and asks, “Unajua ule msichana ako hapo inje ya gate?”

And when you guys go out to look there is no msichana.

Then the fights in the middle of the night, and how she would pick butter knife
from the kitchen and chase you around the your only furniture, a two-seater, wearing nothing but knickers.

Because you are slightly sick, when you remember her now, you don’t even remember the peril of it all but of her perky breasts bouncing on her chest as she chased you with that knife.

She will burn your clothes.

Smash your timepiece.

She will change the numbers of other chicks on your phone.

Or delete a digit.

She will send a chick she thinks you are
interested in an sms saying that you have syphilis.


And when you finally get rid of her crazy-butt, change the locks and ask the watchman not to allow her in, she will be silent for weeks, then out of the clear-blue sky, you will receive an sms from her: “Hey baby, is it cold today
or what? What are you up to?” Like she never left.

Have you ever been walking in tao lost in thought, and just as you turn a corner you run into this girl who looks exactly like an ex who was a complete cuckoo, and you are so taken aback you have to stop at a newspaper stand
to catch your breath and let your heart go back to beating normally?

If you pick up “Gone Girl” By Gillian Flynn you will meet Amy Dunne. Loving. Smart. Witty.

Good in bed.


And crazy like a bat.

Amy moves town for her husband Nick Dunne.

Takes care of Nick’s mom who is dying of cancer.

Sweet woman. Just sweet.

Until Nick screws up, like we always do.

Gone Girl is also an illustration of how we,men, will never win with women.

How scarily a woman’s mind works.

Their uncanny ability to record minutiae.

How when you are flirting with some tail on the sly imagining you are so smart, how they will be onto you in a minute, and how they can keep their suspicion under their hats, watching
you for weeks, picking evidence, naming it, filing it away, all the while never changing their attitude, always smiling and being all loving until she has enough evidence to send you away to Alcatraz for life.

Then she serves her revenge on a cold platter.

Here is the difference between us and mamas.

So you are in bed, it’s like 10pm.

Your mama’s phone rings, she talks on the phone for thirty seconds and tells that chap
“Ebu we speak tomorrow, I will send you an email.”

You ask and she says it’s a client.

You cause a royal stink.

“A client? Does that client have a watch?! What business is this that can’t wait until morning? Is he bloody doing a heart transplant tonight that he has to just call you now?
That shit has to stop by the way, tell him to not call you at this hour!”

She says ok, and you are pissed off and you sleep all sulky and shit.


Now reverse the scenario.

Phone rings at 10pm, you are in bed.

You pick up, and speak for a minute and say,
“Ok, let’s talk tomrrow, I will email you.”

Your mama,without looking at you (because she doesn’t have to look at your face to see if you are telling the truth, she can hear the lie in your voice) will ask, “Who was that?”

You say, “It’s Miriam, from Orange telcom customer care.”

And she will say nothing.

She will continue removing nail polish from her

But be sure that the story is filed away somewhere,and she will not forget those two key words: Miriam and Orange.


They chill.

And they observe.

We are fools, we rush in.

This book is about how we, men, are constantly outfoxed by women.

How they think and scheme and manipulate

How we imagine we are in control, when all the while we are only playing by their script.

The story is narrated in the voices of the man and the woman.

Written in a clever way.

Often amusing.

It will get annoying towards the end, maybe even ridiculous but it will be worth it.

It’s not a love story.

It’s a life story.

You read it and you learn.

And at the end of the book, you will feel annoyed at Nick and be a little scared of

Women! We can’t do without them,but we can surely do a bit better without their drama.

Just some random thoughts that came to my mind….©Profarms’ Random Thoughts®

Just some random thoughts that came to my mind….©Profarms’ Random Thoughts®