“She take my money, when I’m in need
Yea she’s a triflin’ friend indeed
Oh she’s a gold digger, way over town
That digs on me…”
Yea she’s a triflin’ friend indeed
Oh she’s a gold digger, way over town
That digs on me…”
Stop looking at me like that, those are the ever brilliant Kanye West
Given those opening lines, do I still need to give a disclaimer? Okay then, for the benefit of any newbies amongst us (not likely, but who knows…), we’re headed into the sewer today, take off all valuables and such like, fragile people exit now, the language in this one might get a bit…hairy.
Every so often I’ll tell you about my local, not to show you what a lush I am (I’m not. Really, I’m not…), but because that’s where I end up listening to all manner of idiots bitch to me about all manner of rubbish, usually because I’m the only female in the bar they aren’t trying to shag. Now every so often, one of the fellas will start bitching about some random girl he met (read shagged) who keeps hitting him up for cash, airtime, cab fare, salon money, random trips to the coast, fees for her relatives, and on and on… And then at one point in the bitching session, said unhappy bastard turns to me and asks, “Why do you women always want money from us?”, and then the other three bastards turn to me and chime, “Lakini why?” I’m sitting there, odds are at that point slightly tipsy, staring at these four men and thinking, ‘When did I become the representative for all Kenyan women?’, but I don’t bother asking that. Instead I ask, “Why did you give her money the first time she asked?”
Today I’m going to give you a couple of stories, stories of men who I worry have IQ’s that are slightly suspect, slightly, and this in an attempt to illustrate the unending foolishness all around us, because you know how much I love foolishness. Or not.
First up, the story of a friend of a friend of mine who is currently ‘married’ to a woman who is, from the way his boys tell it, not a very good woman. Now when she met this man, he was newly promoted and single, therefore flush with disposable income and looking to make up for lost time by shagging any woman who would have him, now that he was standing a little taller and looking a little more shiny and shit in his (not quite) new Golf. She took a quick look at him and figured, ‘why not?’, and the next thing he knew she had his number. Expensive dinner here and drinks there, a loose shopping spree in Uchumi for ‘breakfast stuff’ for the morning after the night before, the man was living in the Southern outskirts of the city and he was taking her home to the (far) Eastern outskirts every night, this so he could get laid, very well laid I assume if you factor in Nairobi traffic and fuel prices. What? That’s a long way to go for crap sex, we have to give the man some credit and assume it was good sex, no? I’m just saying… Less than four months after they began ‘dating’ she’s pregnant and the next thing he knows she’s in his house. Two years later, the man is crying into his beer, moaning about this woman who expects him to pay all the bills, she practically takes his entire pay check each month. He’s frustrated because she’s happy to sit back and enjoy the fruits of his labour without contributing anything to the family pot. He wants to know how to change this situation. I want to slap him. You meet a woman who likes your wallet as much as, if not more than, you and then you turn around and complain that she’s bleeding you dry? Really?
Different idiot, similar scenario. Moving on up, newly minted six digit income, decides to go get himself a sweet young thing, still in college to boot, to go with his recently acquired eligible bachelor status. Now seeing as how she’s still a student, he’s paying for everything, no? Not a problem, he’s only too happy to throw his cash around, he’s the man! Check out the hot chick on his arm, man! Once in a while there would be minor rumblings about the cost of maintaining this woman, but said rumblings were mainly used to show the rest of us just how much cash the man had. ‘Can you believe she wants to go to Mombasa
Should I continue?
An acquaintance from the bar (i.e. random idiot I run into every so often), having recently broken up with his mama, proceeded to go on a shag fest, literally, I lost track of the different girls parading in and out of his life, bed, car (don’t ask). One day several months later, he realised that the hole he kept trying to fill with random sex was only getting bigger, so he decided to find a serious mama and settle down. He meets a woman who could possibly be ‘the one’, seeing as how he didn’t meet her in a bar at 2.00 am, but one month later he’s already complaining about how she’s too pushy, she’s trying to take over his life, blah blah blah… He’s moaning about how he’s spending too much money with this woman, because she’s a serious woman and she deserves to be spoilt rotten, no? No. Turns out that in his brilliance he may have told the woman that he’s more successful (read richer) than he actually is. There he is, living the champagne lifestyle on a beer budget, struggling like a nonsense, but he’s still going, he’s the man! The reason he keeps going? This woman has shagged him like a superstar, the way he tells it, literally, role play, handcuffs and shit. The man is completely p… whipped. (I know, a mouth this filthy and that’s the one word I have issues with? Go figure!) Some idiots aren’t even worth the slap.
I have more stories, many more. Stories of men doing stupid shit, like pretending to be big time playas to get laid, forgetting that such a big lie will eventually catch up with them; or shagging virtual strangers bila condoms, in this day and age, and then acting surprised when a little Jimmy surfaces soon thereafter; or flashing the cash around to make up for what must surely be a lack of something else, or simply good old-fashioned laziness, who knows? The thing that bothers me about this trend of men using money to get laid is this, if you meet a woman and the first thing you do is show her your fat wallet, what do you think is going to happen thereafter? If you want to keep getting laid, you have to keep paying, yes? On the up side though, with these women using what’s between their legs to get a man, more accurately to get his money, they don’t get to complain when he goes out and buys a newer model, because they’re the geniuses who turned it into a commercial transaction to begin with. All’s fair in sex and money. If you get tired of your purchase, all you have to do is go out and buy another one, right?
I read an article last weekend, in the March issue of GQ (Seeking Arrangement), about a dating site for sugar daddies. You heard me, sugar daddies, men with cash to spend, looking for young women (referred to as sugar babies) interested in being their recreational partners, for a fee. I’m not shitting you, these men get onto this site and state what they’re looking for and how much they’re willing to pay for it. While sex is never mentioned explicitly, because that would be prostitution and therefore illegal, it’s implied in the ‘arrangements‘ they describe, they’re looking for a ‘girlfriend experience’. They stick their annual income right up at the top, then they describe their appearance and such like, then they state their offer, as in how much they are willing to pay a woman for her ‘time’. Reading this I assumed that the sugar babies would be working girls, but apparently that’s not the case, these girls are regular, albeit hot, girls either looking to make a bit of extra cash, for a myriad of reasons, or perhaps hoping for a ‘pretty woman’ type happy ending, who knows? Point is, we always talk about how money plays an important role in dating, and sex, but here is a genius who went one step further and allowed people to state it up front: I give you x number dollars and you give me x number hours a month, and vice versa. Brilliant, or deviant? You decide.
From what I’ve seen in this special city of ours, dating these days is exactly the same, a cash transaction. A man steps up to you assuming that you expect him to spend his money on you, and in return he expects you to shag him, the more he spends, the more, or better, sex he demands. Go out with a man more than three times and don’t give it up, you’re promptly branded a prick tease. The man takes you out on Saturday night and you can rest assured that he’ll be expecting a blow job on Sunday morning. Go out of town with the man and you will be expected to bend over before you even unpack. And the worst part is, women seem to have accepted this state of affairs. They’re out there selling their sex to the highest bidder because they figure, why give it out for free when they can make a little money out of it? I guess if it’s a ‘willing buyer, willing seller’ scenario, then what business do I have getting worked up about it, live and let live and what not, no? No. Thing is, it’s now the default assumption is that we’re all ‘that woman’ who’s selling her p… let’s call it ‘wares’. That’s just plain unacceptable. Gentlemen, some of us do not want your money. Really. I’m not saying we don’t want you to spend money on us, all women love it when you spoil them rotten, in our deluded heads its part of the courting process. Yes, you must woo us, but please don’t take that to mean throwing money, expensive gifts and such like material things at us, that’s not courting, that’s a purchase, hire-purchase to be precise.
Ah screw this! I’m done speaking for all of womankind, I’m going to speak for myself from now on. I don’t know what some of my kind are thinking when they ask you for 5k to go get their hair done, every week. I don’t know what they’re thinking when they call you and ask you to ‘loan’ them money for rent, every month. I don’t know what on earth possesses them to demand an Easter holiday in Malindi, just to let you hit it, that one time. I don’t bloody know, so stop asking me why. Bottom line is, if you choose to go out and buy ‘wares’, then don’t turn around and come crying to me, ati all the supplier wants is your money. Why do you think she gave you said ‘wares’, fucking charity?
Ah screw this! I’m done speaking for all of womankind, I’m going to speak for myself from now on. I don’t know what some of my kind are thinking when they ask you for 5k to go get their hair done, every week. I don’t know what they’re thinking when they call you and ask you to ‘loan’ them money for rent, every month. I don’t know what on earth possesses them to demand an Easter holiday in Malindi, just to let you hit it, that one time. I don’t bloody know, so stop asking me why. Bottom line is, if you choose to go out and buy ‘wares’, then don’t turn around and come crying to me, ati all the supplier wants is your money. Why do you think she gave you said ‘wares’, fucking charity?
“Now I ain’t sayin’ she a gold digger
But she ain’t messin’ with no broke niggaz..."
But she ain’t messin’ with no broke niggaz..."
