The
other time I felt like kissing a lady friend with my fist, not because
of a quarrel - no sir, but because of one ugly statement: “All men are
the same.” Luckily, she’s the best friend I have in campus so far, so I
couldn't put each of her teeth to be in business for itself. And then
there’s another uglier one: “Men are dogs.” Haha…now what does that make women? Read beyond this line! This makes me freak out any time I come across a lady with a pet dog.
Then there is every type of female adviser everywhere: From Oprah Winfrey to William Dekker. “A real man should carry her woman’s handbag, massage her in the morning (err…I actually do this for my own good), cook for her…” The only thing they always omit is… “Hold her throughout the night in her hostel room” (Now my friend Lawi, I don’t dispute the fact that I spent my nights in Hostel J for a week. It’s simply because I'm taller than most beds in Moi, and there’s only one bed I could fit in at that time - in Hostel J).
What beats me is that after reading Oprah’s relationship manual word for word, most of our good ladies sit and wait for that ideal man, whereas Oprah’s tissue paper is literally made of dollar notes! This is the condition known to me as ‘being a celebrity’s puppet’ or ‘playing an executive fool.’ What if we could twist things a little bit, you know, by first understanding that angels only exist in heaven, and that there’s no marriage in heaven?
There are ladies in very stable and happy relationships, not that they are lucky or something, no, but because they understand that luck is a word for losers. Getting your head stuck in the “All men are the same” pot simply means you’re a puppet. You opened your life to many different men who didn't deserve you, messed up your body then got yourself rejected. After that, you decided to search for a scapegoat by forming a resistance cocoon around you and making it look legitimate by branding the “Men are dogs” rubber-stamp on its outermost layer.
Ladies are like apples. The good ones are found high up on the tree. Most men go for the ones nearest to the ground, simply because they are afraid of height. They take one or two bites then throw them away. The thrown apples then lay on the ground, waiting. No one picks them up. They end up giving rise to another tree, or being eaten by a ruminant.
On the other hand, the good ones on top of the tree wait, the man who likes quality climbs, picks them and takes them for processing. They come out of the factory refined, attractive and expensive. At this point every other man desires to have them but only one quality cautious man wins them over.
I simply suggest this to you, dear ladies. If you want an angel for a husband, make your ways right with the Lord Almighty, eat yourself to death then go to heaven and mark you, there’s no marriage in heaven as I stated earlier. Another alternative is to begin your relationship from scratch with that ‘baboon’, shave him clean, cut the tail, clip the nails and shape its lips and ears. Believe me at the end; it will entertain no one but you. It’ll bounce you in bed like a ball, love you and respect you.
Or better still, you can continue reading relationship manuals, wait for that kind of man you wish to have surface from the ground all your life while enriching the manual authors by buying every edition of theirs. When you are still single at 32, you’ll know what George Bush felt when he showed up in Vietnam!
Then there is every type of female adviser everywhere: From Oprah Winfrey to William Dekker. “A real man should carry her woman’s handbag, massage her in the morning (err…I actually do this for my own good), cook for her…” The only thing they always omit is… “Hold her throughout the night in her hostel room” (Now my friend Lawi, I don’t dispute the fact that I spent my nights in Hostel J for a week. It’s simply because I'm taller than most beds in Moi, and there’s only one bed I could fit in at that time - in Hostel J).
What beats me is that after reading Oprah’s relationship manual word for word, most of our good ladies sit and wait for that ideal man, whereas Oprah’s tissue paper is literally made of dollar notes! This is the condition known to me as ‘being a celebrity’s puppet’ or ‘playing an executive fool.’ What if we could twist things a little bit, you know, by first understanding that angels only exist in heaven, and that there’s no marriage in heaven?
There are ladies in very stable and happy relationships, not that they are lucky or something, no, but because they understand that luck is a word for losers. Getting your head stuck in the “All men are the same” pot simply means you’re a puppet. You opened your life to many different men who didn't deserve you, messed up your body then got yourself rejected. After that, you decided to search for a scapegoat by forming a resistance cocoon around you and making it look legitimate by branding the “Men are dogs” rubber-stamp on its outermost layer.
Ladies are like apples. The good ones are found high up on the tree. Most men go for the ones nearest to the ground, simply because they are afraid of height. They take one or two bites then throw them away. The thrown apples then lay on the ground, waiting. No one picks them up. They end up giving rise to another tree, or being eaten by a ruminant.
On the other hand, the good ones on top of the tree wait, the man who likes quality climbs, picks them and takes them for processing. They come out of the factory refined, attractive and expensive. At this point every other man desires to have them but only one quality cautious man wins them over.
I simply suggest this to you, dear ladies. If you want an angel for a husband, make your ways right with the Lord Almighty, eat yourself to death then go to heaven and mark you, there’s no marriage in heaven as I stated earlier. Another alternative is to begin your relationship from scratch with that ‘baboon’, shave him clean, cut the tail, clip the nails and shape its lips and ears. Believe me at the end; it will entertain no one but you. It’ll bounce you in bed like a ball, love you and respect you.
Or better still, you can continue reading relationship manuals, wait for that kind of man you wish to have surface from the ground all your life while enriching the manual authors by buying every edition of theirs. When you are still single at 32, you’ll know what George Bush felt when he showed up in Vietnam!
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