Naivety World

I sent the fare.

It wasn’t a lot of money. It was just enough for someone to get in a car and come see me.

He said he was already in the car.

He said he was on the way.

He let me sit in anticipation of his arrival.

And then… nothing arrived. 

No knock, call, apology or explanation.

This didn’t start as some big love story. It started the way a lot of these things do: jokes, late replies, a bit of flirting, some trauma bonding, and a guy who sells weed illegally. You know, just enough sprinkle of ‘bad boy’ energy. In retrospect, he was always rolling something. Always “busy.” Always “coming”

At the end of 2025, he said he wanted to come see me. Not hypothetically. For real. So I sent him some money for fare not because I’m reckless or desperate but when you’re dickmatized, logistics matter. In Kenya, transport is not theoretical: it’s matatus, petrol, fare, effort. If someone says they want to show up, you help them show up.

There’s something uniquely destabilizing about being told someone is already in the car, already moving toward you, while you’re rearranging your heart and your living room to make space for them only to realize the car never left.

So when he messaged again days later like nothing had happened, just a casual “Hi”,  something in me snapped.

He asked, “How are you doing?”

I had already paid the emotional invoice and so what came out of me was:

“What do you want? More money? More of my energy?”

He said, “Nope.”

Then he added, “I got my own money.”

Which was funny because he was talking to the same person whose money he had just taken.

I pushed back “Leave me alone.” And he did.

Just… done.

The part that hurts the most? I am still realizing that he is the kind of person who will always be “on the way.” I used to think that if someone had access to me; my money, my time, my body, my care, that meant something was being built.

But being “on the way” is easy. Actually arriving takes effort. If you tell me you’re in the car, I expect to hear the door open.

This story isn’t of a younger man who smokes weed and ghosts women after taking fare money. It’s of me refusing to stay in a situation where someone can lie, benefit, and then circle back when they’re bored or high.

I may have lost money that day but I bought back my discernment.