Being a Man is laborious. I know that’s an ambiguous statement since “being a man” is a term used loosely in this society littered with millennial but hold on to your knickers I will help you untwist them. I understand there are many instances that involves a man that is laborious but for now I’m talking about the dating scene.
A “scene” huh? A very decorative connotation that squeezes all this issue on the view of a rose petal glasses. The whole dating affair has become a showroom of charlatans and wannabes. Men are doing outrageous things just to convince a girl that they are the best person they should be having sex with. It’s all a mess out here. Guys are living beyond their means, ignoring all the laws of frugality just to impress a girl. My jaw dropped to the floor the other day when I saw a guy tear in a bar.
Okay let me start from the beginning.
It’s 250 degrees hot this one Saturday afternoon and since Mother Nature decided maybe the sun isn’t burning us enough or maybe since the sun is the eye of Mother Nature I decided to move a little closer to see how this industrialist world is destroying her one smoke emission at a time. Nevertheless it was hot as hell. Regarding the beauty of the afternoon let us just say I have seen better. So I decided I needed a chilled soft drink in a shrine of men. I get into this bar I have never been to before. My silent prayers were answered since I didn’t see any familiar faces during my quick scan. I sat on a corner and ordered a cold tusker (The real tusker drunk by proper men, not Cider).
Soon afterwards a couple came in and sat a seat from me. The guy was in his mid-20s and the girl looked 18 or 28 you can never really tell with the girls and their layers of makeup nowadays. I ignored them and slid back to my delirium. My mind was everywhere and nowhere at the same time. People. When you see a guy swinging a beer bottle on his fingers thinking hard he’s most likely staring at the blank space, no constructive thinking really happens where there are beers to be tackled.
Back to our couple. I didn’t pay them no mind until I heard the guy order a bottle of William Lawson’s (fine whiskey for us on a tight budget), two glasses and three guaranas. The good man filled the glass with whiskey. The lady went halfway whiskey halfway guarana.
They were seated on the counter facing each other, I was seated on a corner so I had a clear view of their faces. The conversation seemed mild. From the guys struggle to break the contact boundary by lightly and occasionally touching her hip ill say it was their second or third date. The guy took his first sip. He didn’t flinch, if you have ever partaken a dry whiskey you will know that that’s something. He took the second sip, still no expression. Third, fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh, damn! I knew that was a real man. I could wait for eternity on how the guy drank his whisky like bottled water. I wanted to know how he did it.
A few minutes later the lady excused herself, I thought for the restroom to “powder her nose” (I never understood that term) but she headed outside. Perhaps escaping this alien of a man who drunk whiskey like cold strong tea. The moment the lady’s bosom was out of sight I heard the guy scream “waiter, nipe glass ya ice tafadhali”
I burst out laughing so hard I almost fell from my stool. He put two of the ice cubes directly in his mouth perhaps to cool down the fire and emptied the rest in his glass.
A minute later with my aching ribs I decided to approach the whiskey guy and ask why?
With a coastal accent he said “ huyu dada nimemu mindy mimi na alisema hapendi wanaume wenye hunywa whiskey wakinun’gunika”