Hands down please! I am distraught at our men and all this whining about us women. I have not met one eccentric man who will not play cheap talk about ‘You women’. Now it’s even worse when I meet a male friend who goes on and on and on…like all women are me!!! I don’t represent all women here. I probably represent myself alone. Hell! Perhaps all women represent themselves!
Radio breakfast shows are now making a kill in profits by frying relationship stories in hot rusted pans. Yes they say that now that we have grown horns, we’ve become brutal at the game than men. It’s like women are the hot spice while men are the meat. There goes the headlines; Hunters become the hunted, women battering men, women cheating on men, women high up the social ladder, women ‘pangiaing’ men. Women refusing to get married, women wanting successful men…women, women, women! So what if women have changed? Are you going to deny the existence of us and brand us the outlawed sex? Let me get you back a few steps.
Some women don’t want to commit, they’d rather have an already committed man who after a lunch time quickie will go to the one who cleans up after them, makes them look great and are too caught up with HIS kids to have love time. True, SOME women, note the key word, are tired of waiting for good men to come by, so they have opted to go for the already taken ones whose wives go berserk. War is sparked and there’s a lot of hair pulling, face scratching here and there. Whoever wins gets the prize. Other women give up and get dejected, others want Pastor Ojigbani to marry them. Heck! All these and men still protest (sigh).
Okay, I get it that men feel cheated in this game. I feel you brothers, but wait, weren’t you the ones who once got weary of women sitting at home and gossiping while you worked your asses off? Oh yes, I remember you said you didn’t want to come home to crack neighbourly nuisance?
Then who was that who got a high school girl pregnant and vanished into thin air? Do you know what this girl had to do to raise his bastard daughter? Of course like him, you don’t. I’ll be glad to enlighten you that she tried to get married, but no man sought after bearing the baggage. So she landed on a ‘strange’ street and targeted men, our fathers’ ages to get a share of the cake and feed the baggage. This baggage grows up without a father and learns from mom that a man is a means to an end.
A wise teacher once said, “If I feed you with gold, I expect gold to come out of your results. Not shit.”Sometimes we reap what we sow. Look deeper inside you. What are your sins? Do you ever consider that what you once did is coming back for your ass? Because we women do what we do, thanks to some masculine influence back then, either from our parents or men we date.
Here cometh the difference. Some women get bitter and frustrated and lean on to vengeance for support of the defectively bruised hearts, others run to friends, even previously derelict ones, and cry buckets till they run dry. Others will go back to ex-boyfriends in attempt to seek approval by rebound, and some like me will mourn the pain away and ultimately let go.
Those women who pangia men, in my view, should be given a chance to experience true love. Once it sweeps them off they will discern what others value, for to love you do not prioritise wealth but rather moments.
Those in it for revenge, well that’s hard. If you get caught in that net, you are disaster-prone brother. You’ll need someone to slap you back to reality. Wake up and take off.
Those who wait for you in the bushes so you can drop a penny will remain there till you cease from visiting and those who lie and blackmail you will stop only when you become unadulterated.
The rest of us loving and faithful women will make pop corn, grab a seat and watch y’all combat it out.
Yes I’m Kenyan and there those like me who still value love. Not the generic, pimped 21st century love, but the old, original , fresh scented love that makes you see a woman and see flowers….yes, that. It’s the kind that you see yourself in a meadow of soft trimmed green grass, picking lilies to fix on your hair; then suddenly there appears the man you want to get gorgeous for. Nothing matters in this field and every living thing responds to your love. Yes sound like a fairy tale.
I loved my husband while he was on the dole and in campus, loved him when I got a job before him, loved him as we struggled to get him a place and love him even more when I see him in those striking one button suits. My sort is ‘Those women, who hurt, learn and grow’ I am the kind who will give my man cash and let him be the man. I am the breed who love and hearten. Yes I giggle and smile all the time. I flush when he stares into my eyes and remind him he is unrivalled and the finest for me. Yes, my type still exists and No, I’m taken, my sister too.