In our great-great grandfather’s time, men went to war or killed lions to validate their manhood. In the absence of worthy wars to fight and lions becoming increasingly endangered, men now measure b***s through some petty and painfully annoying contests.
I know men in their late 20s whose only achievement in life is affording trendy whiskies and humongous smart phones. Some are lucky to be dating Nairobi’s gorgeous women. But like such men, such chics are too absorbed with their looks and cakes of make up to have room for even a decent conversation and who pricey weaves are their only accomplishment. You know the type that thinks their pecks are therapeutic. Likes do actually attract likes.
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Beyond phones, expensive liquor and beautiful women, another thing that validates manhood nowadays is buying a ride. It is a rite of passage, almost. If you have met a man who just bought his first car and listened to him gloat, you can agree with me that they are a big yawn. Once they open their mouth, they never stop talking about the fuel efficiency and the engine power of their third or fifth-hand car.
They must tell you how good a bargain they made. They must proclaim their expertise in mechanics, even when their driving licence is just a few hours old. They will tell you the incredible distances they have covered in record time. It is the most one-sided, sleep-inducing chit-chat you can engage in as an adult. Their excitement is so palpable you can use it to light a bonfire.
Another thing with first-time car owners is that their libido naturally shoots up. It took me sometime to realise that a car is actually an aphrodisiac for men and women. I have never met a hornier lot in my life. Male first time car owners always think that every next beautiful woman should sleep with them. Meet them in a nightclub trying to convince a prospective ‘chips funga’, and you get my drift. There is a sense of entitlement that comes with a car that makes these men think that women must make a beeline for them. When a woman turns them down, it’s like taking in a live arrow through the heart in a battle. They look wounded and can behave rather recklessly.
Of course, Nairobi teems with a good number of shallow women who measure a man’s worth by his car. I have lost women I just because the phrase ‘I will drop you home’ is not part of my daily vocabulary. Of course, having car magically multiplies a man’s ‘bonga’ points in female circles. It matters little whether the car is hired, borrowed, stolen or company owned. The man drives, that is all.
I’m frankly sick and tired of first-time car owners. How do they even live with themselves? You will be forgiven that first time car owners have to leave a part of their brains in their showrooms. I mean, even a man driving from a show-room has the nerve to abuse other motorists because they drive jalopies. Or a Vitz. What cheek! I may be biased (we all entitled to the right of bias), but I believe I am not the only one who finds first-time car owners a tad exasperating - until I become a boring know-it all first time car owner myself.