Kenyan women are frustrated. Angry. Seriously, we all just need to exhale. Deep exhale.
Have you noticed that more and more women now enjoy the company of whiskey, shisha, and her girls better than be in a company of a man? I mean, every second man you meet is a man-child, or annoyingly considers himself boychild, who worships Nyakundi.
Men increasingly claim that they are an endangered species. That they are fewer in numbers than Kenyan women (didn’t the last census disabuse men of this notion?) They say there is something wrong with any woman above 27 who is single. What problem? Do you start walking on fours once you are 30 and unmarried? Sounds like the biggest hoax in the history of civilization.
Now, every Tom, Dick and Harry mints millions annually pandering to the angst of single women: Single women conferences, books on single women, books on polygamy, radio talk shows (Maina and King’ang’I, anyone?).
Does your boy child always insist on spending the weekends at your house and not vice-versa? On top of that, he eats your food, puts his dirty, stinking feet on your Italian imported leather sofa and proceeds to lay the pipe like he was born to plumb.
I am angry. In fact, the guy seated next to me in Java is wondering why I am not paying any attention to him while tapping my keyboard so hard. He has a nose ring, don’t bother. There are serious issues real men are grappling with like where they should invest their money or whether Kidero was a better governor. But he has time to go for a nose ring?
Granted, there are still a few good men left. But we have more thieves in the streets, rogue morgue attendants who rape mothers who just gave birth (what came of this story, by the way?) and more childish men like the guy with a nose ring seated next to me, trying to steal a smile at me.
We have men who stay in their parents’ house, and they over 27-years-old. Then we have the yuppies who flaunt their worldly possessions, all acquired before the capping on interest rates. The car, the plot, the TV were all bought on credit. He swims in debt. Airtime-Kopa-credo, Rent-Mshwari. Power bill-Kopa Power. The choice whiskey-loan. Fuel- Tala Loan. Don’t forget a few Shylocks on his case.
He wears flashy clothes and the price of his phone is 10 times that of his rent. But still, he attracts women like magnets. Women swallow his bait, hook, dick, and sinker. Until he proves elusive, borrows money from the dame and never repays, and the woman knows that he is dating a phony.
My friend Lisa survived such a relationship and was not only left bitter but (with twin girls in tow.) No child support yet his Instagram pages is just pics of him and socialites in flashy restaurants. A special place in hell awaits him. That is the only consolation I could give her.
The next frustrating guy to date is a socialite. The socialite guy is the reason why so many Kenyan ladies are taking overpriced high blood pressure pills. This guy takes more selfies daily than the entire Kardashian family. Woi! Instagram- selfies. Facebook-selfies. Whatsapp –Selfies.Ni kidogo tu we rename him Mr.Selfie. They love showing off and pretending that they live on a fast lane even if the only thing that bears their name is a mattress and a meko in their bedsitter somewhere in Embakasi. These socialites will crash your heart faster than you can sneeze ‘hello’. Resist him kabisa.
So, if you pay all the bills in the house as his lazy ass bum relaxes at home while complaining that girl child has more opportunities than boy child, run, sister, run.
You can tell a man-child from a mature guy by how they relate with money. If he is the type that can spend up to ten thousand shillings in a bar but at end month he struggles to pay rent then he surely is the chairman of the boy child foundation. This is the guy who enjoys being ‘worshipped’ at the bar when he buys drinks for all his friends but would never consider joining an evening class to up his game in the job market.
When you marry him, please be prepared to spend all your weekends alone as he parties in all upmarket clubs in the city. You will do all the house shopping, pay all the rent and better still, pay his Uber at 3 a.m. after he blacks out in the cab outside the door.
Ladies, please never ignore these small details. For example, does he switch off his phone whenever he is with you and then lies that his clients will disturb him all day if he doesn’t? Excuse me? This boy child also has technical passwords that are not easy to hack in case you have that ’third eye’. Does your boy child always insist on spending the weekends at your house and not vice-versa? On top of that, he eats your food, puts his dirty, stinking feet on your Italian imported leather sofa and proceeds to lay the pipe like he was born to plumb.
Lastly even as the good book states, a man who does not provide for his family is worse than an infidel. So, if you pay all the bills in the house as his lazy ass bum relaxes at home while complaining that girl child has more opportunities than boy child, run, sister, run. If he always has the nerve to text you while you are in a board meeting asking for fare to go town. If he is always talking big and waiting for that ‘kadeal’ that will turn him into a millionaire in a few months. Then my dear girl child, gather up your courage, dust yourself, show him the middle finger and kick his weak ass out.
Ladies it is time to exhale! Goodbye boy child! Real men raise your hands, please.