Men only: The type of men all women should avoid

In our WhatsApp group for this magazine, we always praise the front cover. No one talks about this ‘Terrible Three’ trio at the back, except I did get a really nice e-mail from one Tabukai Limo the other Saturday who said I ‘enrich’ him, Itindi amuses him while our bad boy jirani Nyanchwani brightens his Saturdays.

I often mention madam Beryl in this column, so today I will practise ‘Nyumba Tatu’ and paraphrase a Facebook master-post that Silas did earlier this week, with his happy permission. It was about the accessory-to-murder convict in the Land-Down-Under, Esther Arunga. And why and how a truly wicked chap, like Quincy Wambatti, can bring your world down.

Esther Arunga grew up in a rich family. Her folks were diplomats. They live(d) in Lavington. She went to those British system schools, and finally graduated with a degree in Law from Australia (sio kama za India that my omogusii relatives love, after failing to make the cut off to our universities).

Maybe she had an inherent mental problem. Certainly, I noticed a sense of megalomania after she became a famous TV lass. Additionally, she had grown up in a strict SDA environment, and still lived home with her parents till almost 30. One would imagine she would marry a smart advocate/doctor, fellow celebrity journalist or even one of those politicians around town. Instead, she fell head-over-heels with a spiritual charlatan from the village with a LOUD mouth, louder clothes, horribly shiny shoes and b.s. so much, a man on the moon could spot it with the naked eye. But not ‘our’ Esther.

I know a rich young musician who married her rather dumb fashion snapper. A liquor heiress engaged to a ‘Ten Ben’ musician. A smart corporate woman who wasted three years with an untalented, pathological thespian — and only threw him out after he forged a huge amount from her account for his own use, signing her name on the cheque with confident flourish.

These Quincys from dubious backgrounds dress flashily, name drop, hang around Big Fish (for photos and autos) and are often on the verge of doing something BIG, like eight figure deals or ‘becoming a Senator in 2022’. And you find an otherwise clever woman believing these LIES. Silas reckons most must be pretty good at ‘laying the pipe.’ That is why they live off women, until she gets fed up of his cable services, or his selfish life!

While many of us men imagine paying rent/taking mortgages/investing in land, paying for food in her belly/weave on her head plus kids’ school fees is enough, these thugs know the trick. Master the ‘spontaneous’ romantic gesture, plus simple ‘thoughtful’ gift, and she’s hyper happy.

These men, other than pipe work have combinations of (i) Worship ground she walks on (ii) Are always ‘there for her’ (iii) Tolerate her mood shifts/outright BAD behaviour, a la Caroline there (iv) Never call out their crap.

You know me! I always say if a woman admires the ground you walk on, stays even-tempered a la Bibilia, and allows one to point out her mistakes (the way Bad Boy jirani does to his Caroline), then you can be there for her, always and forever.

The Quincys of the world target (i) Older, richer single ladies with the whiff of desperation about them, especially in this colder climes of July. If he lays a good pipe, chauffeurs her around and can be bossed, she’s good! Even as she secretly wishes for an older rich guy herself.

(ii) Quincys also like young girls from wealthy families that they can take advantage of kabisa. Often these young ladies are sheltered, dazed or with self-esteem issues; or they are looking for ‘an adventure’ with a thug, just to shock their ‘Babylon’ peers and annoy their loaded parents.

(iii) The third type Quincys go for are extremely bright ladies. These ones have a sense of entitlement, ATT and ‘zero tolerance for average’ that scares off many men. But not the Timberlakes, who weasel their way into Miss Clever’s pants. Before you know it, she’s had two or four boys with him (as Silas pointed out, for some reason, it is always boys).

She divorces him after seven years, and is stuck with three brats aged six, four and two; who all look like the bugger. In worst case scenario, he’s a psycho, and now you are 40 and in prison till 2040.

When you come out at 60, you sadly remember: half a lifetime ago, you were a famous star.

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