Have boobs and hugs lost meaning?

What is California is today, the world is tomorrow.-Old adage.

by TEDDY FISCHER

cleavage

One of the commonest sexual fantasies among my peers or any straight men is to lay a Muslim chick. It is something strongly attached to the mystery that is brought about by their full-covered bodies. Often, we see some really tempting curves beneath their buibuis that you really want to undress, but we know the repercussions. In fact, anytime one of us succeeds, it is considered a great deal and it comes with a lot of bragging rights.

All respect to the Muslim faith for keeping it real as much as possible, not when they degrade women though. But in inculcating good morals in their women, I give it to them. Christian women or secular as they prefer to be called have lost it completely. To the few who can hold it up anymore, you will stay in my prayers tonight.

What is happening in Nairobi? Nairobi is beginning to look like a Brazilian beach or downtown Jamaica on a Saturday afternoon. So much cleavage in display. So many tittays out there, it is no longer sexy. It is becoming an ‘on-your-face-affair’. The average preferred top is a sleeveless, bare-‘chested’ (pardon the pun) which leaves the armpits and the titties out. It could be the heat, lemme not speak too soon.

Who is this putting pressure on women to reveal the cleavage overtly or subtly? Is it Twitter’s #TittyTuesday? Is it Facebook with the hundreds idle men, ever so ready to like and drop a racy comment? Is it instagram? I mean, women are always under pressure to conform and victims of fashion, quite often disastrously.

I have seen so many boobs, it is no longer interesting. Whatever happened to bras? I mean, today, they don’t need them at all, at all. There were days, you only saw the cleavage, imperceptibly . Nowadays the entire breasts are out there and you can see them without even trying too hard. In the matatu, in the lift, at the bus stage, in the office, in interviews, in hospitals, in your mama mboga kiosk, name it. And there those who are putting them out there unconsciously.

I would be more than childish if I discussed about the shapes; whether big or small, the positioning; whether asleep or awake, level of alertness; whether responsive to touch or not. All I can say is that I have encountered a number ever since I came to Kenya, but few merit the adjective super. Even fewer are naturally erect and responsive but I will skip this part.

Boobs were not essentially part of the sexual capital for a woman until Hollywood opened the floodgates of perversion to the levels of sexual experimentation that Nyanchwani wrote about here a while ago. Then old men started suckling and boobs proved quite a turn on and a fantasy for many an adolescent. The first good titties I touched and suckled were probably the last. I still remember that day vividly. Boy, that was something. For details, email me.

Our grandfathers never knew the erotic potential off boobs and in my anthropological classes, my lecturer once enthused in some communities in Kenya, like the Turkana or the Pokot, the Nuer in South Sudan, women still don’t cover their breasts and you don’t have their men drooling. Simply because, the men don’t know that breasts have a secondary purpose beyond breastfeeding. Nyanchwani just showed me some photos from his excursions in rural South Sudan of women virtually naked waist-upwards. In such a context, men are just fine.

In Nairobi, it is something else. Women know that exposing boobs add to their biological capital. As in hips, a well curved ass and a recklessly exposed cleavage will get men looking. The absurdity of it all is that they don’t know that they are essentially, desexualizing men. They think that they are turning us on, or they are looking sexy, but an averagely educated man thinks beyond his dick and knows which side of his bread is battered when it comes to a woman who can be taken in for a long term relationship. A woman who dresses tartly even when in a relationship is not read to settle and is out their displaying his goods for all and sundry. Akin to having a billboard out there long after its purpose has been accomplished.

Forget that bullshit that they dress to please themselves. And they only need their approval. F**k that. That statement is no truer than when a politician says that he has your best interests in his or her heart.

Fashion has always been a cyclic affair, but it seems, evolutionary we are on the reverse gear. Women are taking the lead, no contest. I suppose if someone came up with a nude show in Nairobi, so many women will show up, it will be overwhelming. Why women have chosen the easier route baffles me. If they are in it for casual sex, then they are doing it rightly.

When a man sees a woman dressed provocatively, he thinks of sex and nothing beyond. But when a woman who is neatly dressed, he will hold a higher and suitable opinion of her. Quite unlikely he will make an inappropriate remark. Quite unlikely he will think of buying alcoholic drinks with a ‘Barcelona-winning-a-match’ guarantee that he will sleep with you.

But maybe, it is the damn tattoo that she wants it to be seen. A friend, Alex discovered a word for those people with nose rings, tattoos and funny hairstyles (dreadlocks excluded). It is VANITY.

african-american-couple-hugging

Hugs

Onto another thing that really vexes me.HUGS. Women are lately shoving their boobs on us, rather too close it can suffocate one. No man wants her woman hugging every Tom, Harry and Dick, especially the latter. I mean, a cheek to cheek hug without much contact is not bad, because civilization demands it. The real hug that should be reserved for family members and your boyfriend. Women have become so liberal with them, it is no longer exciting.

We used to earn hugs. Not given. I suppose it should remain that way.

It bespeaks a lack of personal respect if you push your boobs too close and your boyfriend might keep quiet about it, but it is because you are an opinionated bitch who thinks that he is insecure. A good hug is one of those privileges you accord the people you love. Stop being loose and liberal with the goodies. If you must give, do so cautiously. Stop those perverts at bay.

These things are so common place; men are being gradually desensitized that in due course they might not have sexual desire. There is a curious link between this overexposure of thighs and boobs and the upsurge of lesbians in Nairobi. Probably even the sale of vibrators could be on the upsurge…

FOLLOW TEDDY ON @RetrosexualKe

or EMAIL: teddyfischer2000@gmail.com

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If only women behaved like the DVD player!!!

    GUEST POST

David Gitau would be a happy man, if women were to be like electronics and came accompanied by a manual for the clueless man. Do you agree?

By David Gitau

Why electronics might be the map to understanding your man
Perhaps the greatest misfortune to befall men is the fact that women don’t come with a manual, just like other electronic gadgets that we fancy. Even when my house had the least of items, well I mean valuable items that I could attach wealth to; she was there by my side. In all honesty, let me confess that we moved in together from my mother’s house to the very first house I rented. From here I derived all my excitement, fun and all the joy you can comprehend.

I could turn to her during those boring weekends, lonely nights and during those moments when I felt down. Before you get mushy, I am talking about my DVD player. It’s now broken beyond repair and perhaps the owner is too. Show me a man who doesn’t enjoy the company of any item that comes with the following buttons; play, pause, stop, forward and rewind and I will recommend a mind checkup pronto.

Electronics are to men what fashion (read clothes) is to women. I am not in any way equating women to electronics.. My paralleling is not farfetched as many would start to argue. A while ago, Apple shelved plans to launch iphone-4s in China after the first attempt saw frustrated customers who had lined up in their hundreds start pelting the store with eggs after a near stampede. The majority of these customers were guys-I checked.

What am I driving at? Take technology to a higher level and you have simply escalated the madness of would be buyers. For the longest time ever, men have been fascinated by electronics. A man takes you to his house and the moment the door bangs behind you the sound system is up as he busily shuffles the channels on the TV. All this before the lady can undo her high heel shoe straps. I am a man and I can tell you that electronics don’t disappoint.

They are never moody or sarcastic, they don’t complain a lot, they are not busy when you need them and yes, there’s nothing like meeting their parents. I am busy shopping for a home theatre while my sitting room has only a carpet and the ghost of a space. You must be thinking, ‘his priorities are inverted’ but far from it my needs are well catered for.

To the crux of the matter now, a man’s fascination with his gadgets can be explained in simple terms. Hold on while I load my sociology…there we go, unlike women, men are not that structured and complicated upstairs. Like many electronics, our command system is simple and easy to read. We have fewer buttons and wires unlike the women in our lives. In fact, if indeed we are wired between our ears, there are only three kinds of wires-red for macho and anger, blue for things we admire and value and the duo colour of green and yellow on the final wire is for our simple complications and other factors sociologists like me are still trying to figure out.

I am holding the model of a woman’s brain with me and from the labyrinth of wires I am still trying to figure out which one actually determines her sexuality…oh! There you go! A woman is made to be delicate, dynamic, choosy, and very specific and that’s why her complication has made her a man magnet. A man and a woman have been paired since Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden but to date Adam is yet to figure out Eve. So much for coming out of a man’s rib. Out of it God made a very beautiful companion meant to help the man but beyond this loving and generous gesture I put to the Man upstairs that an accompanying manual would have come in handy.

For any man, his electronic responds faithfully and direct as instructed. Automatic is the key word here, a man hates having to keep giving instructions and repeating himself. For the women who care, a man hates any woman especially one that keeps challenging his authority. It is more of an ego thing and men are a cornucopia of egos. Why it is then that men and women keep conflicting? It is argued that women are equipped with foresight and many times they will second guess a man’s instructions.

Women are suspicious of the next man and they tread carefully unlike the adventurous man who jumps and then asks the W questions in mid-air. Unlike his electronic that is so loyal and spontaneous, his woman comes with an intricate web of feelings and extra care that a man is not accustomed to. Many a man will lack that sense of detail and accuracy and paying attention is the least of our talents. Now you can understand why my gadgets are so dear to me and to many of my kind out there, they define a man’s life in more ways than one

How I wish women were programmed in advance and I would press play when things need to be spontaneous with my girl (especially in the bedroom), pause when we are having the best of times, mute when she is yelling and calling me unfathomable names in the presence of my friends, forward when she visits my watering hole unannounced and yes, rewind when I need to remind her of all the good things I have done for us. If only the above scenario was possible, marriages would last forever, Valentine would be hustle free and divorce lawyers will turn to criminal law. Yap, I heard what you said; I can’t have my own cake and eat it, damn! For that reason I am going out to buy myself a big, black, thunderous and mean looking Sony home theater system for my ghost of a living room.

THE RETROSEXUAL:Turning all those coffee and dinner dates into lays:

GUEST POST

MY BUDDY TED OFFERS SOME INSIGHTFUL LESSONS ON HOW TO TURN THOSE COFFEE DATES INTO BEDROOM MOMENTS WITHOUT BEING WASTEFUL. DON’T BELIEVE A THING HE SAYS ABOUT ME, AND WELL PARDON THE PROFANITIES. HE LIKES CALLING A SPADE A SPADE. HOPE HE WILL BE WORTH YOUR WHILE.

By TEDDY FISCHER

Avoid talking yourself into the Friendzone


Women have more words for fucking than men have for their dicks. Dating. Seeing. Grooving. Name them. And they are rarely, strong macho words.

“Me and Joe are dating.”

“I am seeing Dan.”

“I am involved with Steve.”

“I have met Andrew.”

“I am not really serious with him…” The list is long. Ratchets might opt for stronger terms of course. For a man, a really man that is, it is fucking simple. “I am screwing her.” Or “I am fucking her.” Simple. Clear. And precise. And when a man does not know how to read the codes women use, you might miss the boat standing right by the shore. Women send hints depending on how you conduct yourself on the first date.

I need to introduce myself first before I proceed with the profanities. I am Teddy Fischer. I am in in my early 30s, hetero, socialite, copyrighter. I work in the creative industry and that is how I met Nyanchwani. A tall, cool, decent man, level headed who buys more coffee for women than he gets laid. He can take a good joke, so I will go ahead and say (at the risk of sounding racist) that he is an egghead and without the help of people like me, he should take a mortgage for the friendship zone, he resides in already. Men, he is the most friend-zoned hetero (presumably) man I know. And the ladies at his disposal? Since he has given me a chance to offer a lecture on how to convert the coffee dates to lays, I will not waste any single sentence on the introductions.

First mistake Nyanchwani commits lies in his warped philosophy of looking at women as enemies and treating them as friends. The reverse works all the time. Women are our friends that we need to treat like enemies. And it takes some learning. Since many men lack father figures, physically or psychologically, more men are wasting money, resources, time (including hers) on women when they can get laid for quick and for cheap.

It is Nyanchwani himself who said in a blog, not too long ago that a man who spends a lot of money on women is either uncharismatic, stupid, without wit or imagination. I mean, whether in London, or in Nairobi, you can make a woman eat or drink anything or anywhere, without looking cheap. One thing women detect instantly is your wit and the size of your pocket and they decide which one they will work with. Of course money wins 13/10.

Friendzoning is officially the bane of modern dating. It is among the worst inventions, alongside auto-tune, skinny-jeans and those musical condoms. There are as many men in the friendzone as there unemployed people in India. But how do you avoid that pitfall of friendzoneship?

To avoid this…

Black Man Crying
1. Don’t allow her to engage her phone more than she engages you
One, make sure she doesn’t revert to Facebook or Twitter on the first date. She can answer a call or a text as long it takes less than 20 seconds. But if she looking into her screen for more than a minute or receives a call and goes on to talk about her fingernails, hair, supper and the vegetarian pizza she did last week; she is either stupid or you are a boring schmuck, monumental prick of a man who has given her reason to do so.

Thing is, on the first date, let her do the talking. Actually, women ought to do the talking all the time and men the listening, as long as you can sneak in your interest at some point and learn to cut to the chase.
2. Be playfully serious
Women hate men who use overt and blatant language that implies all they are interested in is sex. It is one of life’s bigger ironies. I mean, the highest compliment a man can pay a woman is to look at her sexually or at least wish to jump to bed with her immediately. But women want us to notice their brains first before we notice their bodies. But look at how they dress. Do they notice our humour and wit first or the wallet?

Anyway to circumvent this tricky bit, you can spank her lightly, give her more than a hug or peck, as you hug touch her inappropriately but in a cautious way. Lead her on and see if she plays along or she jolts. Let her blood rush and let her lose her consciousness a little.

Men perceive women from three consistent angles. For the average or less than average, you look at her as your sister to rid your mind any sexual considerations. For the above average and curvaceous, well you mentally measure if you can wank to that. But those beautiful but seemingly beyond one’s reach, you cut you just cut your losses. Or masquerade.

So for a man, you need to show your intentions from the get-go. I mean, talk about her cleavage, her ass, her hips, her sensuous lips or feign a fetish for her hair or anything. Flatter her and add, ‘I am serious’ to qualify your politically suitable language. Be a little crude, but have a refuge you can fall back to, if she is a prude and doesn’t like your forthrightness. The trick is to let her loosen up. Flaunt your physique or your energy. She needs to picture you in the sheets. Create overplayed expectations. Just be interesting. Drop that vibe about your job, deadlines, bosses and life philosophies. It is called bitching and a specialty of women. If anything, let her tell you about her colleagues, boss, job, deadlines and career or academic aspirations. But be a good moderator.
3. Fix everything on the first date
You don’t need two dates to pitch. By the second date, you should know the position you occupy in her life. Are you ‘just a friend’, ‘a good friend’ someone I am seeing’ dating’ et al. Women are can be amazing. If they notice a whiff of generosity, they can give you a second chance just but to drink more of your coffees, the pizza, the cake and just feel good about themselves. She needs to feel wanted and occasionally eat in those good eateries. So sort everything straight and let her know your intentions. If you want to date her, tell her in no uncertain terms. If you want to get laid, you have to be creative. You need to gauge her age and know her expectations at the moment.

There are times when a woman wants a relationship or to belong and settle. There are times when they want adventure. There are times when she just needs a good lay, especially if she kisses you after three bottles and dances like she is auditioning for an RDX dance crew. There are times when she needs some closer comfort and these you can discover by running some questions that revolve around partying, weddings and her dreams…

But whatever you do, don’t go for the second date with the air still clouded. Know the lane you should drive on. Avoid fumbling and drop her if she obfuscates, trying your patience. If Nyanchwani grants me another chance,  I will be more than willing to offer more.

Sexual fantasies of the Nairobian woman, 50 Shades of Grey and the flaunting lesbian

WARNING:THIS PIECE EXPLORES THE DEPLORABLE LEVELS OF SEXUAL PERVERSION IN NAIROBI, PRECISELY BDSM. IT MIGHT CONTAIN INAPPROPRIATE LANGUAGE AND REFERENCES. READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED AND IT IS LONG AND WORDY.

free-poster-jgqaw8d474-S-&-M-AFTER-PARTY-APRIL-8,-2011
True story.

They were somewhere in between making out when she pulled a shocker. She pressed the pause button long enough to get a dildo from her hand bag, some gel-probably vaginal-and then told him to bend over…

‘For what?’ Inquired a curious Nick.

‘C’mon, I wanna do your anal, let’s be freaky. You know the male G-Spot is somewhere inside your rectum.’ She offered, getting impatient, while scooping the gel like it was ointment oil and she was about to perform a religious ritual.

Nick pulled up, grabbed his pants and said ‘NO’. She was petrified. She was disgusted. She was disappointed at his ‘cowardice’. Nick was stunned. Spiritually frightened. Flummoxed. They broke up on their first night even though it was purely a sexual affair.Shepa

Telling the story afterwards, I have never seen a man so disturbed. We could only feel him vicariously. And to put matters into perspective let me tell you a few things about Nick.

Nick was the real card. The ultimate charmer of our class in campus. He got laid within the first week in campus when some of us were still green and wondering why some girls were not wearing bras. And he was done with the class lasses, by the first semester and he was into second years, third years and the occasional fourth year. A pervert in every sense of that word, I think he got laid more than he attended classes. His clique was the most revered. Alcohol, women, marijuana (they never abused it though) and all that college life is all about, except of course those deadline beating term papers.

Tall, dark and handsome, just the way girls just like it here. His darkness was sensually Nilotic or ebony, if you are into shades. A gym enthusiast, he had some fantastic and enviable biceps and he spent a dime on his grooming. Whether loaded, or not, he pressed his shirts neatly, had his subtle cologne on and wore a delightful face at all times.

He affected a certain boyish, if childish stupidity that endeared him to all of us. Sometimes he could be professional and philosophical. Like I once overheard him telling a gorgeous, curvaceous thing we wanted to accompany us to a politician’s office,

IN NONINI’S VOICE:“Tuende umuambie utampea hizo vitu. Hakituwai pesa, mnaeza panga ka unamlike utampea, na kaa humtaki ni sawa pia, umnyime tu.

What was funnier was the look on her face.

Suffice to say they had just met. They didn’t know each other.

I never heard him utter anything sensible in my entire stay in campus but he once told me to start spending less on coffee dates, and dinners in order to get laid. This came after he discovered that the very thing I fancied and was spending a dime on was getting laid by a loser, who wears open shoes, never combs his hair or takes a shower. It was a thorough admonishment that I deserved. He had an efficient approach to dating and laying. His lines could be cheesy,

‘Tuende tu unigei’ was his personal favourite. And it never failed 8/10 times.

Anyway, to spare you the details, he was a shrewdly spoilt kid who had possibly partaken in all sorts of sexual orgies and one would imagine that what her lady friend was attempting would be something he was familiar with, or probably used to. Turns out that the USIU chick got it all wrong. That was three years ago and that was the freakiest thing I have ever heard in real life.

When it comes to freaky sexual fantasies, I have read as much as possible on the subject. Often by accident. I first encountered sado-masochism in Sidney Sheldon’s classic Blood Line. One of the Rolfe’s son, Charles if my memory serves me right was addicted to live porn and used to get an organism seeing an underage girl being raped and strangled to death by a well-hung man. It struck me as bizarre that someone gets an organism that way.

Later I would read Nelson DeMille’s The General’s Daughter and the level of debauchery in the book shocked me. That some people want to be whipped, strangled or experience pain in order to be sexually excited has always been a puzzling affair to me. If I can say something about myself, I am a heterosexual who only subscribes to what is only prescribed as normal sexual behaviour with a little experimentation as long as it does not border on perversion. So cunnilingus is out of question. Fellatio I must shamefacedly concede like any other Nairobi man that it is standard foreplay procedure now on offer even from prostitute for a fee. Wonder how men enjoy it, many would be on the edge, because that is TRUST in capital letters. Ever stopped to wonder what will happen if she develops lock-jaw, or a throat muscle-pull…Just kidding.

Moving away from my personal conservative problems, I have recently observed three things that point to the degeneration of sexual values in Nairobi. The first is, 50 Shades of Grey novel. Upon reading about the book and the ripples it was generating in various capitals in the West June last year, I predicted that it will cause a similar stir in Nairobi. I was on point. In a recent study of bestselling books in our book stores, it is there on top in the same league as Wangari Mathai’s autobiography. And I have seen at least four young women reading it in public. A point of concern. Reading that book in public should be stigmatized. It is like broadcasting to the world about your intentions. It is not a mark of class. But pardon my stupidity.

Secondly, while watching the Nairobi Half Life, I noticed an S&M scene down in Luthuli Avenue where sex goes to as cheap as Ksh 20. It struck me as odd that there could be Kenyan men, tie-wearing, no less who whip women for sexual pleasure.

Finally, the level of lesbianism in our clubs in Nairobi point to a new category of women who are carrying vibrators in their handbags (beware of bigger handbags) in town. In the same bag will be an unfinished bottle of coke, probably laced with a strong whiskey, an unfinished chocolate bar, The 50 Shades of Grey, her weave, phone charger and whole roll of tissue paper, some vaginal gels, water, scented condoms et cetera.

But why the fantasy fueled sex tales and pursuits? The level of sexual experimentation has gone wilder and wilder. And it is women in this case who are in the laboratory. Female sexuality is a little complex. Imagine using a vibrator. What can be more impersonal? For men, masturbation is in a way natural. But it is not even the vibrators we should be concerned about. It is S&M.

When it comes to perversions, white people got it twisted long time ago. I never heard of the terms cunnilingus or fellatio until I stumbled upon them in the Oxford Advanced Dictionary. The first time I watched a porn flick, I was devastated by the levels of experimentation. You should have seen my face when I learnt that a blow job has nothing to do with blowing one’s nose or vacuum cleaning. To date my folks, reasonably younger in the village cannot accept a blow job from a woman for a simple reason that nobody insures dicks as yet (how about that for a business idea Bwana Mwati?).

But S&M is something else. There are women when they are being abused is when they hit the big O and even go ahead to squirt. What kind of psychological problem would this be? Like she wants some serious whipping, tying a rope around her neck, because if you are having an orgasm and you simulate a suicide act by cutting the air supply, it is super magical. According to the book by the way.  Doesn’t sound African to me. Yet, I now can’t put it past any Nairobian woman to come up with such an idea.

bdsmYou can Google more BDSM photos and see the extents to which women go in order to be stimulated…Gross and really cheesy.

And there are men, who do the anal, and they still insist that they are straight. This shit (pun-intended) scares the hell out of me.

But blame it on 50 bob movies along Tom Mboya and in your neighbourhood. The movies carry with them insinuations  of all manner on these things and women are ever so eager to learn. It is called the Social Learning Theory. The mass media has a powerful spell on us and it influences us in every sphere of life. And because the big O is as elusive and love, we keep on searching, groping and experimenting.

Not really bad, because you can only ask so much from your body. Your body ought to give you the ultimate pleasure that you seek. The average male out here is within the ’15 minute- two shots’ category before he is exhausted. Unless, he has some vitality drink in his blood stream, on Guinness, or he took some aphrodisiac that prepared him psychological. What I know, the younger women, born after 1990 will not be repressed sexually. With the proliferation of porn, lesbian-inundated films, Sex and the City, Tyra Banks, Rihanna, Beyonce, Lady Gaga, Keri Hilson and my crush Kelly Rowland we are living in interesting times.

All I can tell men is that  if they thought a blow-job was the furthest they can go; they should brace themselves for women asking them to return the favour. May be they have been missing out on the fun. The times ahead will be no doubt tough for people like us who still believe in the old, conservative way our forefathers did it.

Often I curse having born in this age. If I was asked, my best year would have been 1966. That is the golden generation for me.

 

Of irresponsibly generous men

Why would a man buy a woman a phone worth Ksh 64,000, fly her to the Coast, book her into one of the poshier and swankier hotels in the Mombasa for a weekend before flying her back to Nairobi, and they are not even dating? Just a random woman who happens to be young, beautiful and available for the weekend. As the Twitter proverb says, there is nothing more expensive than a Nairobian woman who is free and available for the weekend. Boy, she will drain you.

If it is your girlfriend, it will be suitable. If a wife, perfectly acceptable. If a mistress, understandable. But we are talking about those impulsively lustful moments whereby a man just feels overly excited by a young woman and he has no content in his head to match the calculating skills of the woman, he opts to unfailing cash stunt.

A line like, ‘hey let’s fly down to Malindi for a weekend of…’ has and will always worked.

The really culprits are the overpaid yuppies whose paycheck is enough to buy a second hand car that is in good condition. Mostly they are bosses who target junior female employees hankering after a quick promotion or enough cash to move into a better neighbourhood preferably in Lang’ata or South B/C. They equally go after prettier women who are selling clothes in stalls and waitresses in high end restaurants. I am talking about the random nature of their choices and their indiscriminate spending of cash.

They say a fool and his money are soon parted. Now these women have decided to help separate the fool from his money. To them, sleeping around in exchange of electronic gifts, rent and money is not a bigger deal. They are not call girls. They are perfectly normal women, educated no less, with jobs-though not well paying-or in businesses that do not rake in as much as they would wish. OK, let us call them material girls with a thing for glamorous things.

They have ambition. They know what it takes; going for high-end salons and coming out with a killer look. Most of the time they are blessed with suitable physical features that meet the fiscal indiscretions of men who can’t see the absurdity of paying Ksh 20,000 for a manicure and pedicure in the CBD. With her money, Kenyatta market is never too far for her salon affairs. But since these men can be blackmailed into paying the bills, why not pursue the options of a renowned salon in town. Ashleys maybe.

Resultantly, you have women driving vehicles given to them as gifts. You have women drinking whiskeys that are in the sections of supermarkets that few mortals bother to look up their prices. Or better still they have developed a taste for brewed beer, coffee and tea. When a woman starts saying things like brewed coffee or beer, I go bonkers. I know I am dealing with a plastic thing. Probably she comes from the long line of an ancestry that has dwelt in plastic business, you know…

Let us examine these men. Among the male circles it is rightly presumed that only men who are desperately incapable of seducing women who opt to splash the money in order to get the woman they want. A man with enough intellect and humour will probably spend less. But there are men who are endowed with neither intellect nor humour. They are so boring; you can feel your hair grow listening to them. So boring, time stops when you are with them. But nature in its random act of balancing has decided to give them money.

So with the cash, they have the best head start that works 95%, actually 99% of the time. If in a bar, they can start by sending some shots of Sambuca, or any other equally good rum. These men just live to fulfill the newly acquired epicurean tastes of these women. To them they are constantly dangling the carrot of money and the gifts. In one Pavlovian move they have reconditioned these women to a life of affluence at a relatively young age.

Resultantly, you have a 25 year old woman who came from somewhere in the countryside who cannot travel by bus to the country side anymore, it is either flying or driving an expensive ride. She cannot touch any other phone, if it is not a pricey smart phone, not Android but iPhone. Whatever they say about snob appeal? They cannot live in Eastlands (it is unsafe). They cannot drink normal beers or soft commonly known drinks; they have developed a peculiar taste for unpronounceable drinks that come from France or Eastern Europe. ‘They work for them, always.’

Come on, men ought to be wiser than that. Spending on a woman is alright. Spoiling a woman you fancy and dating is the order of nature. What defeats logic is buying every other woman who satiates your carnal appetite an expensive gift just to have her somewhere in the horizon just in case the thirst just resurfaces.

These ends up creating an imbalance in the dating scene, disturbing the equilibrium for many broke men who can afford a taxi but don’t own a car. You might not see the really damage you are doing to everyone connected to this woman or you for that matter. You now have extremely young women who have taken to a life far beyond their means and inadvertently being roped into prostitution or being third rate mistresses in order to sustain their lives.

Before you opt to buy that car for her, think twice whether she is worth. Think again if there is a cousin somewhere who might benefit if you pay for her or his college fee. Invest in something intellectual and charisma, after all women are not only after money. Who knows, maybe you are helping her keep her official boyfriend with your M-PESA remittances.

For one fact of life remains, a man who spends the most on a woman occupies the lowest possible rung in her life and her many men. Just like he is using her sexually, to her the man is just an ATM. There ought to be a balance.