I was in Class Seven when I received my first love letter. The pink envelope had been carefully and secretively left under my textbooks in a way that only I could find it. It was Visiting Day and my parents had just left for home. Just like the rest of the five hundred kids in my school that day, I was overfed and approaching the bloating stage. I sat down on my squeaky desk to read the letter.
'Dear Handsome,' read the top of the scented writing pad. My hungry and agitated deskmate momentarily forgot about the misery in his life and noisily dragged his metal chair closer to mine. He asked, 'Who is it from? Is it from Diana? I hope not, she is mine, I will marry her one day!' Diana was the light skinned girl from Class 7B who somehow topped everything from academics, sports, dancing and even eating competitions. As if those weren't enough things to make any thirteen-year-old boy have wet dreams, she was from the city and spoke with the sweetest voice in this world.
'No, it’s not from Diana, it says here that it’s from Naliaka!'
'Waaait, Naliaka? From 8A? How? Let me see!' True enough, the words "Yours in love, Naliaka" were scribbled at the bottom of the letter in green ink and decorated with floating red hearts!
Naliaka had to be at least two years older than I was. She was the tallest girl in school, and also the nicest. She wasn't a good performer in class but she was famous for her good handwriting and long shiny hair.
Five years later I lost my virginity to Naliaka in her tiny but neat hostel in Nairobi University; her parents had pumped most of their money into parallel tuition fees, and so not much had been left for a lavish student flat. Three months after our sexual tryst, I slept with Naliaka's 24-year-old cousin. I was 18 at the time. It set a pattern; I have never dated a younger woman in my life.
I find older women very attractive. The oldest I have dated was eleven years my senior. She was 35 when I was 24. A successful mother of one, she liked cooking for me during the weekends - but she was a menace when she had had some alcohol. She fought people and broke anything that could break. The next day she'd cry about it and vow to never drink again; empty promises to herself. She was clingy and overly jealous. The last straw for me was when she covertly installed cameras in my house so that she could monitor my movements and the people I met.
Related: Enjoying Sex With Older Women
I met Daisy when I was 26. My boss and I had gone to Meru to meet some farmers and promote a new fertilizer. Daisy was curvy and mouthy, well learned and well-traveled. She had lived in Denmark in her twenties and had come back home to launch her law firm. When she wasn't emasculating men in the courtroom, she was at her parents’ farm, growing strawberries for export. She had tried to intimidate me with her good English as she questioned me about the product. I stood my ground and answered fire with fire. Our chemistry was instant. That evening I asked her out for coffee. She brushed me off, but I was relentless about pursuing her. She finally gave me her number and love’s floodgates swung open immediately.
Daisy loved me deeply. I have not met a person in this world that has displayed more belief in me than her. She is by far my best love. Our relationship was however strained by distance when she went on a long work trip abroad. We decided to take a break until she came back. In the meantime, a spicy 36-year-old Equity bank teller will be warming my bed…
Have you dated older women? How did you find it?