Diary of a certified problem Gym,Gyal & Bad Decisions?
Friday felt long and then it suddenly didn’t. I was already done with the work stress but my eyes were still chasing the last few tickets and approvals like they owed me money. It was one of those days where the clock moves like it is walking through rain.
I’m Max, an IT professional for a telecom company, and by now everyone at work knows my face. Not because I’m perfect, but because I always find a way to fix things. I can act calm when the system is acting crazy, and I can talk my way out of trouble when people want to make it personal. That side of me works. The other side, the partyboy in me, is waiting for the weekend like a dog at the door.
When I finally left the office, Nairobi felt warm and impatient. Westlands was alive. I drove my dark blue BMW 330d, windows slightly down, music just loud enough to remind me I’m still me.
The first stop was the gym. Not optional. It is my routine, and it helps me pretend I’m in control.
That is when I saw Susan.
She wasn’t “new gym girl” sexy. She had the kind of beauty that looks earned. A little older but still sharp. Her curves were the kind you notice even when you try not to, and her confidence made it worse. She moved like she knew what she wanted from the mirror and what she wanted from life.
I tried to keep it normal. No staring like a teenager. I walked past her, nodded, and gave her a proper smile.
“Hey, I think I’ve seen you before.”
She looked at me like she already understood what I meant, but she didn’t embarrass me. That alone made me respect her.
“Yeah? Are you always here in the evenings?”
I laughed a bit, the casual type of laugh. “Always. I’ve basically mapped my life around this gym.”
She smiled, slow and pretty, and we started talking properly. Not awkward small talk, not the kind that dies in five minutes. We exchanged a few things about training, what we like, what we avoid, and then the conversation naturally got warmer.
We ended up locking contacts for a moment too long, both of us pretending we weren’t doing that thing where you measure interest without saying it. I broke it first.
“So I’ve got to ask,” I said. “You new here?”
She shook her head. “Not really. I used to come in the mornings, but my schedule changed. Now I do evenings.”
That explanation made sense. It was like she wasn’t appearing suddenly, she was just showing up at the same time I’m finally free.
I leaned in a little, keeping my voice easy. “I was wondering. You train well. I might have to make it a habit of talking to you properly.”
She looked amused. “You talk too much when you’re trying to be polite, you know.”
“Maybe,” I said. “But you’re easy to talk to…I didn’t get your name though”
She didn’t act offended. She looked pleased. That’s rare. Most women either brush you off or they act like you’re a nuisance.
“I’m Susan, but most call me Sue” she replied calmly.
“I like giving people personal nicknames, if you keep going so hard on the gym then you’ll gain Super woman as yours”
“That’s a boring nickname, don’t use it on me” Her response made me rethink my next move.
“Max is my name Sue” I deflected to avoid a weird quietness,
“Nice to talking to you Max” She said followed by a gentle smile
After a couple more minutes, I didn’t let fear interrupt me. I decided to be straightforward.
“I like this vibe. Let’s grab some nyama choma after the gym.”
She paused like she was deciding whether I was serious. Then she smiled properly, the kind of smile that says yes before the words even come.
“Tonight?”
I felt that little rush in my chest, like the weekend had already started. “Tonight.”
She gave me her number. We exchanged small details, just enough to keep it smooth. And when I left the gym area to finish my routine, I noticed I wasn’t even tired anymore. I was excited.
I showered quickly in the gym baths, dried off, and got dressed like I was stepping into a plan.
We headed to my usual spot for nyama choma and drinks. Nairobi nights always taste better when you’re not pretending you don’t want pleasure.
The place was busy. Lights low, smell of meat in the air, music playing like it knows everyone here has secrets.
We started talking and honestly it flowed. Real stories, little jokes, and that kind of back and forth where you don’t have to force anything. She had a sharp mind too. Not the kind that just talks, she actually listens.
At some point I realised I was enjoying myself more than I expected. My toxic tendencies were quiet, maybe because she was giving me attention that felt genuine.
Then her phone started ringing.
Not once. It kept coming. She glanced at the screen, her face changing just slightly.
I raised my eyebrow, still polite. “Is everything okay? You look like you’re about to jump.”
She sighed and looked at me like she trusted me enough to be honest.
“It’s my helper,” she said. “She keeps calling.”
I leaned back a bit, keeping my voice calm. “Why? What’s happening?”
She finally answered the call for a moment, then she hung up and told me, “One of my kids. The youngest. He has been calling for me. He’s missing me, apparently. He keeps saying he wants to see me.”
Something in her tone told me she wasn’t playing. She wasn’t trying to sound dramatic. She sounded like a woman who genuinely cares.
I nodded slowly. “Two kids right?”
She smiled faintly, like she was grateful I remembered. “Yes, two.”
I asked gently, “And the husband, where is he?”
Susan took a breath, then said, “He is a busy man. Most of the time he is outside the country.”
So it wasn’t just missing. It was life. It was responsibilities and schedules and the kind of love that keeps running even when people are not physically together.
I respected that. I didn’t go into that annoying mode of trying to collect her like a prize.
Instead I asked, “So what time do you have to go?”
She checked her phone again. “Not sure yet. But I’ll need to handle it soon.”
That is when I saw my opening, and I’m not proud of how quickly my mind works, but I’ll be honest. My intentions weren’t cruel. I just knew the moment would end and I didn’t want it to die on that table.
So I asked her, “If you’re free tomorrow afternoon, we can continue this properly.”
Her eyes lit up, like the idea gave her relief. “Tomorrow afternoon?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Tomorrow afternoon I’ll be out with the boys. Riding to Kitui and back. You know I love that speed bike energy.”
She laughed, then leaned in a bit. “So you’re serious with tomorrow?”
I smiled. “I’m serious. But we’ll see how your schedule looks too.”
Susan looked happy, then she asked the question that mattered.
“What about next weekend then? If I make time.”
I kept it smooth. I didn’t overpromise. I just made it feel real.
“I’ll let you know. If everything aligns, you and I will meet again.”
She nodded, satisfied, and for once I felt like I wasn’t just chasing fun. I was building something, even if I’m still the same Max who knows how to ruin a good plan when he thinks he’s invincible.
Before she left, I caught one last smile from her. It looked like she understood I wasn’t only about noise.
The space felt empty despite having a lot of people making merry, laughing and enjoying the moments
I was glad that she was open to hangout as soon as next weekend.
And the worst part is I can already feel myself trying to give her shoulders to rest her legs on whenever the husband is away. I couldn’t stop thinking about what happens when the weekend turns into more than just a hangout.