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Four types of women not for this year

By | Jan 8th 2011 | 3 min read

By Tony M

I have just finished reading an article about four women in a club, successful by all standards and appearances, in their 30s, with SUVs parked outside, haranguing a waiter over an inflated bill.

Now many men have been long accused of having bloated egos.

But nothing beats the inflated ego of a woman who is not only beating inflation, but watching her pay cheque get inflated as she scales the corporate ladder, and breaks glass ceilings with her stiletto on the way to the top.

So the first type of Kenyan woman men would rather not have to deal with this year is the independent woman, with an asinine attitude.

I’ll forever blame this on the NGOs who told the "girl child" she is special, and that all men belong to a Boys’ club where the booze flows as the guys plot against girls.

The second type of woman whom it is really hard to bear, stand or withstand (so Lord have mercy on us) is the lass who belongs to your friend — she may be wife, lover, fiancÈe, girlfriend or mistress, but your presence fills her with distress.

So she tries to stress you out of your buddy’s life.

Friends’ lovers

Yeah, you’ve known this boy for yonks, and became best friends in Form One and shared all the growing pain years together.

You were room-mates in college, and after graduating in 2000, have been through both decency and decadence together, the same way as it was in your adolescence (or ‘adole’).

Then this chick, who checked into his life shortly after the post election violence, wants to erase you from his life — because she blames you for all his (inborn) bad manners? Sheeesh!

You cannot even dare eat in his home, because you’re afraid she’s laced your beer with arsenic, and the sukuma with ‘rat rat.’

A third type of woman who can be very exhausting, and a vexation to the spirit, is the constant complainer.

From the second she wakes up, instead of a bright smile that she has survived the night, it is moaning, instead of appreciating the Saturday morning glory.

On weekdays morning she’s grumbling about having to go to work.

(I like this coincidences, when you’re writing this and the song playing on radio becomes "in the morning, I try not to wake her, because she says the toast is burnt..").

On Saturday lunchtime, she recalls the unpaid utility bills and laments, yet you intend to pay on Monday.

She hates soccer, so off you go for the games, and when you return in the evening, this hypochondriac is ill.

Hard labour

I know Zawadi is always saying ‘relationships are work,’ but with some women, they feel like ten years of hard labour in Siberia.

Lastly, this stemming with a conversation I was having with a lawyer and magistrate friend of mine, are the increasing cases of cheap, loose and ‘slutilicious’ women who have turned to extortion to make their lazy ends meet.

There are the blackmailers who threaten to reveal all to your wife after short affairs.

Then there are the ‘baby mommas’ who might have kids with as many as three different men in the span of four or five years, then claim child support from the hapless fellows.

Others have different men for different needs — rent, sex, fuel — this in an era of dangerous diseases. Where is the dignity in this type of wench?

This type of calibration, to me, is the intellectual equivalent of having the mind of a gross green-grosser.

You can’t wrench what you never had, and like the Communists say, those who refuse to toil the soil — they shall not eat from the sweat of the brow of bros.

In 2011, don’t make resolutions.

Just see if you happen to fit into any of the above sorts — and if you do, resolve to kill yourself before the end of the year.

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