Y Is For (the) Year Of The Heaux

Or lack thereof.

Or lack thereof

The last time I used those three words as my intro was in my first ever Sex And The City post Let’s Talk About Sex Baby! where, ironically, I talked about how I was NOT having sex.


Not much has changed since I put up that post on September 19, 2018 as I AM STILL NOT HAVING ANY SEX!

Rolls eyes hard.gif

While last year I only had sex 4 times, this year is not much better as I have only had sex 7 ½ times. Or is it 8 ½ times…

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Allow me to explain that in a bit and then y’all can tell me if it is 7 ½ times or 8 ½. But first I need to categorically state that the title of today’s post is not clickbait. I fucking hate clickbait and so I would not deliberately do that to y’all.

I have said over and over and over again that I started working on my content calendar for 2019 during the last quarter of 2018. I came up with the title of today’s post while on the phone with a friend of mine in January because I really really really really really really really (you get it) thought this would be me in 2019:

Thot life.gif

Instead we are STILL here:

But where is my sex life

In How Lwile Got Her Groove Back (that I put up on February 6, 2019) I said:

On that note, I really believe in speaking things into existence so I will say that 2019 will be the year of all the sex. Can I get an amen? Lol. For real though, 2019 will be the year of all the sex with all the deserving people.



Instead of living my best thot life, I have had sex 2 ½ times in Q1, 0 times in Q2, 5/6 times in Q3 and 0 times so far in Q4.

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I am aware that the 2 ½ times for Q1 is quite intriguing and I cannot wait to tell that story next year.


Q2 was such a fucking fail though! There was one guy I was DTF, but he ended up being the first of three niggas to stand me up this year. You can read about that malenge here, but long story short he stood me up after my waxing lady had taken a boda boda in the motherfucking rain so I could have just-waxed sex.

Boo this man

Q3 I had sex five or six times. On that note, let us work this out now. If you are out partying with someone and have sex when you get home from the club, and then again the next morning when y’all wake up, does that count as once or twice? If it is once then I had sex five times in Q3. If it is twice then I had sex six times in Q3. However you choose to look at it, it is pitiful either way.

Speaking of again the next morning, can you imagine I have only had morning sex once this year!?


Guise! Once! Sucks to be me aki.

Sucks to be me aki

I have had sex zero times in Q4 😐 and that is highly unlikely to change in the remaining 28 days of 2019.


It goes without saying that the Year Of The Heaux epically backfired. I have had time to think about it and I believe that 1% of the reason it epically backfired is on me because:

  1. I am picky AF! Which is not a bad thing at all because standards ni muhimu. But if I am not careful I easily work myself into a state of analysis-paralysis. So earlier in the year I came up with the slogan “do not overanalyse, just fuck!” to try and alleviate my analysis-paralysis. Spoiler alert: it did not work.
  2. I was off booze and kush in Q2 and I find it next to impossibility to have first-time sex with someone without any booze and/or kush in my system. In addition to lowering my inhibitions, they are also an aphrodisiac for me which makes things so much more … fluid.

The other 99% is the goddamn city boys.


For a while I thought it was just me meeting some low calibre men. (As in, my freshly waxed pussy & I were stood up in Q2, and Q3 was the quarter of JD1 & JD2 that you can read about here if you have no idea what I am talking about.) Until I rejoined Twitter on my birthday. Twitter assured me that the problem is not me and made me aware that the scourge of the city boys is an epidemic. I would see women complain about how dating in Nairobi is the equivalent of an extreme sport and it gave me great comfort to know I was not alone.





Predictably, the city boys epidemic is not just confined to Nairobi:







Speaking of Twitter, I put up this series of tweets on October 1, 2019:


To which a cousin of mine responded:

Her: However, you have kicked 2019’s ass with happiness… Woooooootttttt woooooootttttt 🙌 I’m all for that

Me: Yes I’ve kicked ass when it comes to 2019. But siwesmind someone to eat my ass pia. Lol

Aki I really wanted to live my best thot life this year. I wanted to be swimming in so much dick such that when I am ready to settle down anytime from next year, I will have gotten all Thotiana traces out of my system. But alas! The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry.

JD1 may have confused me with his nonsense but one thing I learnt from him is that the minute you tell a city boy you just want to be FWBs you can kiss respect goodbye.


I do not know what is up with these city boys, but it is like there are certain levels of access they only reserve for girlfriend status. Which in some ways they are obviously entitled to, but they take it too far in that if they have no intention of making you their girlfriend then you do not get access to respect, decency and honesty. Which is so fucking dumb because who in the wanking fuckballs said that situationships and RespectxDecencyxHonesty are mutually exclusive?!


I have had this conversation with a few Nairobi ghels in my Instagram DMs because we really do not understand why men great till they gotta be great. These goddamn city boys can be interested in you but the minute you tell them you just want to be FWBs they become absolute malenges. I mentioned this to my therapist and she said, “Kenyan men have the ego of a butterfly. No, actually a butterfly is less fragile than their egos. They don’t take well to strong, independent, successful women telling them they only want them for sex.”

Which is why next year I am looking to put up guest posts from my fellow Nairobi ghels that will show how we are needlessly suffering at the hands of these goddamn city boys. It could end up being cathartic to laugh with each other as we share our sasa hizi ni nini tales and draw comfort from the fact that:

  1. We are not alone.
  2. It is not us. It is them.








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