‘WOMEN SHOULD NOT CARRY CONDOMS WITH THEM’
-99% of men wish so.
Nothing expresses the intention to sin than the sight of condoms. Every bachelor’s house never lacks some three of four packets stacked somewhere in some unused jacket, some carton underneath the bed or somewhere very close to bed. It is not just a sign of precaution but a display of optimism that you will ever get laid, even when enduring a looooong dry spell like Arsenal’s trophy cabinet.
Even for someone like me who is saved and given to abstinence and faithfulness, there is a permanent and steady supply of condoms in my house. I can’t explain their origin, given that I have never bought a packet of condoms in my life. I am saved. And yeah, I don’t sleep around. But my circle of friends are at their sexual prime and my house has served as a lodging every once in a while. So they have done enough to stocking up of the prophylactic sheaths. Even my friends who hardly get laid and not in stable relationships, stock up condoms. But very few men are OK with a woman stocking up condoms in her house or her bag.
If you went to a woman’s house and after making out she professes that she is game for a lay and you panic that you don’t have condoms and she told you,
‘Hold on sweets,’ and she reaches for some basket and leashes out Rough-Riders and goes like, ‘here we go,’ most men will probably freak out. Many will respond to the heat of the moment but will be hell-scared and probably curse inwards how rotten the world has become. 93% of men will never ever show up again in that house.
I conducted an informal survey among my friends and took the same survey to Facebook and the results were unequivocally clear. My questions were simple:
a) If a woman invited you to her house and in the end provided condoms for a lay, would you still lay her?
b) What will be your immediate reaction?
c) Would you date her afterwards?
I asked at least 8 male friends and all were adamantly insistent that they will not date a woman who stocks up condoms. 4 said that they will not even sleep with her on that specific date. 3 said they would definitely screw her but will not dial her number ever afterwards. The other one, who is perverted and has morals of a dog and weasel combined, said he never will mind but dating her for long term is out of question.
I took my survey to Facebook and randomly queried about 15 of my sexually active mates. The answers were the same save for two who held the liberal view that those women are playing it safe and realistic. The two also said that they would date the women, even so. But I must say that the two also are not the best of sample that you can use to represent facts.
All of them were virulently opposed to the idea and vowed to step out of the door quicker than they came in. In fact one equated it to stumbling upon ARVs in her closet. The irony! Most men were typically disgusted by the notion of a woman who stocks up condoms. In fact, men will be less forgiving if it were pills.
Going by the recent pulling out of the NASCOP condom sponsored ad from our tubes, maybe we should examine this, some more. Here is an irrelevant personal experience…
I once visited an acquaintance in her apartment. She is one of those friends whom you can’t define the nature of your relationship, except that you ever once kissed and it wasn’t a very good idea.
Naturally, she had friendzoned me but to save my face and with future prospects, I secured my pride by distancing myself from her. I knew a few months or years down the line I will be lucky. By my estimation, Janet (if we can call her so) is one of those above average chicks, with a body worth tapping. She is talkative; well-informed but just can’t find a man to keep. From the way she talks she seems like she was ever hurt once and she is quite cynical about relationships and their product called love. This means she doesn’t get laid as much as she would wish. So many of them around.
So one lazy after noon, she initiated a Facebook chat that resulted in me being invited to her apartment, on a Saturday evening. The agenda for the evening had not been set, so it was a blank cheque. I am normally poor at reading signs. It always strikes me back one day later about some behaviour that called for duty, like her lying on the bed talking in a low tone while I am seated their telling her about beef farming in Argentina. Boy, I can be clueless.
So, tall as I am, bearded as I am, and intelligent if you wish, I thought I had been invited for an innocent dinner. The pessimist that I am, it never occurred to me that I should have bought some condoms. I showed up at her third floor door and knocked. She wore a smooth, sleeveless top that revealed both her arms and cleavage. Nice stuff. Her skirt was flirtatiously short. Actually provocatively brief. My slow brain interpreted this as her indoor wear. I can be spacey!
She gave me one of those clinging hugs, really rubbing her bust on my chest and a light erotic peck that I read as playful. To make this short story longer, she shook her bum as she sauntered to the kitchen. Little Joe Wood, gasped, cleared his throat and sneezed, if you know what I mean. She brought me a glass of water. She played the script of a loving but cheating wife who is receiving a husband after a six-month absence. Well-played Janet. And then she decided to take the lead, when she discovered a goat can read road signs better than I can read her advances.
When she brought the food, we sat in the couch together, she feeding me, plainly and doing all those things that romantics do. My role was to play along as a good visitor with a benevolent boss. Actually, I thought it was the friendship that was driving her. Actually, she had an agenda. Next she served wine. Well, I don’t do wine since I came from the village and given it is too sweet for a real man, but I just played along. Next was a kiss out of the blues that startled me. Joe Wood was up.
“I think Janet, you are working me up,” I said helplessly because the smaller brain was taking charge.
“That is the idea,” she said with that smile of, ‘tonight is the night we gonna make it happen’ and I knew I was in trouble.
“I don’t even have the rubbers,’ I quipped, trying to be manly and responsible, ‘and you know these things…”
“Hiyo tu ndio shida yako? She asked, almost sarcastic and daring me. She grabbed me from the chair and pushed me towards the bedroom. My head said NO. My heart said MAYBE. JOE WOOD pointed towards the bedroom door. Joe Wood always wins in moments like this.
There is that chaotic sense of awareness when a free lay comes around and you don’t have rubbers and your mind is exploding nudging to move on and throw caution to the wind. The sober self-reminds of your friends and folks who have died of HIV, unwanted pregnancies, abortions gone wrong, but the thighs will beckoning. I don’t about women, for men, it is impossible to think straight in the presence of a naked woman.
In the bedroom, her script was playing out well, but I was totally befuddled. No man wants to be made a stud without his consent and I was doubly worried. Next she handed me a brand of condoms that I was unfamiliar with. They looked expensive, though. All of a sudden my enthusiasm and excitement were gone. Something inside me just went off. Joe Wood recoiled and shrunk to the size of a comma in font size 8, Times New Roman.
I excused myself. Grabbed my jacket and told her, it can’t happen. I have never seen a woman so hurt. It was all in her eyes, the disappointment was palpable and insufferable, but more so her steadfast reputation in front of my eyes was gone.
You can call me sexually dysfunctional, stupid, and insensitive and other unsavoury adjectives, but a woman handing me condoms is something I am not yet ready for and will never be ready in a long time.
Like all men, the common wish is to come across a woman who has slept with as few men as possible. Even women know this fact, and that is why when you are on the subject of her exes, the golden rule is never to exceed five. Two of those are of course labeled jokers whom nothing ever happened between them. Three include the normally problematic first lover who just walks out her, the second is always out of the country and the third is the immediate ex.
No man is supposed to believe these load of crap laced with bullshit, but it is fair to say, no man is ever prepared to handle the truth.
Matter of fact is that, an average Nairobian woman who drinks, goes out and dates has probably seen more ceilings and woken up from many beds than the number of goals Messi scores in a season. Currently Messi has scored 42. You may refuse to share a glass of water with me in a restaurant but there is that inescapable fact that she gives head and swallows and that is the mouth that kisses you daily.
She probably has aborted once or twice, if not a mother already. Alternatively, P2s are part of her dietary needs. It is not these worse but the number of women who fit this description in Nairobi, can fit into Uhuru Park, Central Park, Nyayo Stadium, City Stadium, and I think Kasarani stadium.
Men are of course involved in this vicious cycle and they duly know that women have been laid in Nairobi; it takes two to tango. Men acknowledge that finding a virgin is as good as finding a policeman who is not corrupt. We know what women are capable of, and we have slowly sanctioned it. Yet, we can’t be comfortable with them stocking up condoms. Unless she is a prostitute or a professed mistress or hooker, it is wrong for a normal woman to have some for herself. The overriding assumption is that, she sleeps with as many men as she wants and she is a super freak that nobody can handle.
So if you are a lady, and you want to stock some, reconsider that. It can scare away a potential lifetime partner. Blame it on the sexual double standards.