Not all women are bad. I have many wonderful female friends and contrary to the popular assumption among my peers that I’m anti-women, I love women and I’m very straight. I date also. So all those women who think my blog is an exercise in misogyny and chauvinism, kindly see the forest, not the tree.
We have all had that bad shag. For men; it was big down there, wet, noisy and not so clean. And most likely she exaggerated her moans a little. Or just slept her ass pretty as you did your thing. Or she seemed a little clueless and screamed you deaf when you mentioned a blow or some hand job or something as unnatural as that. Too prudish.
For women; he was short down there to excite anything, came too fast and just once before slumping on the side leaving you high and dry. Next thing you knew, he was leashing out radioactive farts adding more insult to your already insulted sensibilities. Or his mouth wasn’t clean yet he insisted on kissing you. Or he was too big and wanted to rip off your prized innards. Or he was too rough even when you dried up. These shags are inevitable in the business of shagging.
These are some of the things we were discussing in the unlikely reunion of Kevin Munguti, David Gitau, Paul Ndeda, Boniface Mwalii and Charles Onsati. With the exception of Charles, the other four are the men I joined the University together four years ago and we have remained the closest and the tightest of friends as it is humanly possible. We have undergone remarkable transformations.
Kevin and I despised alcohol so much and were quite puritanical for the first two years until we discovered that beer if actually taken ten times becomes sweeter. So sweet than anything else we know. And Kevin also took another personality that we cannot discuss here but it has continuously astounded everyone in our clique to date. Paul is inherently drunk and great company anytime, any day and around him you should be justifiably concerned if your woman is around and alcohol is on offer. And of course, Bon-I needs no introduction.
Bon-I has been my partner in crime and the only thing we haven’t done as far as I’m concerned is kill to make ends meet. We have been together in the thick and thin of things and certainly we got a long way to go.
We were having a spontaneous reunion in the wakeful realization that we have less than 14 days to zero down the 8-4-4 jargon in our heads. On Friday, my good friend, Alitsi a student already serving in the force had invited me to his crib and offered some nail-biting beef stew before giving me the honours and the grace to open a bottle of Gilbey’s.
It is an offer I took with all the humility I could muster, being thankful at best, slapped the bottle, elbowed it and tore the lid fashionably
before pouring it into a glass. You all understand this pure masculine ritual. He gave me some canned pineapple slices that complemented the famous dry gin. Altsi offered to afford me another bottle the following day as a special honour.
I had lost faith in young people but Altsi did restore this and I really wish that more and more young men would learn on how to treat their elders.
So on Saturday after receiving the gin, I invited Bon-I, Paul and Kevin to join me alongside my heretical pal, Charles. Charles has some of the most intriguing, mind boggling theories with an unmistakable exactness. We went to the same high school back in the middle of nowhere in Kisii, were deskmates and deckmates. He later went to Maseno and now he is a qualified urban planner. David, the man with the quietest sense of humour and with such a disarming humility came along and joined in my room where the above discussions about shags- good, bad and ugly-took place, and weren’t we gossipy?
After finishing that bottle, we opted to try town. Outside Club Spree, there is a Wines & Spirits joint that pulls a decent crowd of revelers in their ‘supped’ up cars. We were not about to go clubbing, our stories were inexhaustible and we had to finish ‘em first and we bought two more bottles of Gilbey’s and some Lime juice and hitherto, there isn’t a drink more calming, more satisfying, more therapeutic than this good gin. As we leaned against cars that didn’t belong to us, we plunged into our tales in campus. Nothing has ever generated so much laughter in my life. The guys were outstanding and the spontaneity of their jokes is stuff good stand-up comedy is made of.
Since we couldn’t talk about soccer, given most of us were Arsenal fans, to whom increasingly soccer is as interesting as Peter Marangi’s colours are to a blind man (with all due respect to the blind), we could only discuss women and our escapades. The stories were colourfully exaggerated but nonetheless funny. As we discussed, we did agree that we have encountered some of the best women, whom we will permanently regret, never having laid in our lifetime in campus.
And here is the general classification of the good women we have had to deal with.
The clean ones
This specifically refers to physically clean ones. There are those women we always admire because they look clean. I often suspect if Hygiene is not their middle name.
These women, you can re-swallow what they have chewed. These women, you can lick their whole body. They invest so much in hygiene and their efforts are always suitably rewarded. And no man can forget a woman who is clean. I’m not talking about being fashionable and trendy. Far from it. I’m talking about women who with a simple shower, some lotion and light make up can afford to be angelic. They always carry decent hand bags that you can only expect lip balm, her phone, hanky, some roll of tissue paper and a bottle of water.
Most women I know whom I have had the misfortune of peeking into their handbags normally carry food, too much make up, shoes, water, afia, some unfinished yoghurt and cookies. I saw condoms in a bag of a 20 year old recently. How despicable? How appalling? As someone recently pointed out, for women, the bigger the handbag, the more desperate she is. I couldn’t agree more.
I have the softest spot for women who once they get caught up in that unenviable situation of an unwanted pregnancy go right ahead to keep the child, whether the father takes a leave only to resurface when the kid becomes a Wanjiru or not.
It shows responsibility and someone you can bank on. I am reliably aware that that every second chick I meet has aborted. The third knows at least 17 means of abortion or friendly medical outlets. Abortion is as common as masturbation in men. It (masturbation) is the most privately practiced practice after of course the long calls.
But women who keep the kid against all odds are a turn on to me. It bespeaks a rare boldness. In a world so prejudiced and single mothers more often than not despised, it takes special strength to pull it off. Hence any colleague who bears a kid in Campus demonstrates a sense off maturity that is enviable. It can be tough and worse.
Some of these pregnancies come at the illest of all times. The parents will hear none of it. The degree is all one has to live for and the kid can be such a complication. But I have one word for those who contemplate abortion: Go right ahead and spare the kid…Most of the great men around have been parented by single mothers. Think Wanjiru. Think Obama. Half of the politicians you can imagine are all products of single mothers.
I always have this conviction that there is something divine with single mothers who are sometimes driven even to prostitution just but for the kid to be alive. Hats off to single mothers. And from the bottom of my heart.
The cool, calm women without issues
A woman without issues reads like an oxymoron. You wonder if it is earthly possible to come across a woman without issues with her looks, her weight, her wardrobe, her boobs( too big they are sloppy) her feet( skwembes showed up rather too soon), thighs(too many stretch marks).
But here is the catch. There are certain things that naturally we cannot change. The first thing maturity demands is that we accept those unchangeable situations thrown to us. If you are a woman and the forehead is quite big, compensate with something else. In male circles, there is often an argument average chicks serve it the best. Maybe as a compensatory factor.
I have met many beautiful chicks with the personality of a wall. And I have average chicks or some who some may readily be labeled ugly with the most striking and amiable personality. While beauty attracts lust, mental and inner beauty brings about genuine desirability. Ever wondered why that fly dude settles for the less than fly chicks that you ordinarily sneer at?
I love women who accept whatever situation they found themselves in. They don’t fuss much. They don’t expect much from life. They know life is unfair, men are dogs and women are bitches at best. These women are so confident and mature. They don’t complain even when their parents cursed them with names such as Carol, Isabella or Rosebella.
The beautiful and cool woman
She is different from the former group. Not many beautiful women know the responsibility of being beautiful. That is why many beautiful women are error prone. They fall for the bad guys. They are too insecure they bore. Sometimes, they demand that the universe revolves around them. Too bad.
But there is another brand of beautiful women who are cool to be with. Who their looks don’t dictate their sense of judgment. These women have no issues hugging even the toilet cleaner and no sense of attitude at all. I have talked enough about them and you have read about it in previous blogs.