No judgment, but we have men who are turned on by being tickled with a feather under their feet or armpits, preferably a duck’s feather. For others, it’s the sight of their women dressed like a plumber that does the trick. But of all the fetishes people harbour out here, a story about how to wash Sufuria Ya Ugali did not feature on my top list of things that can give a man a boner, but then I do not know people. I posted the story both on my page and Let’s Cook Kenyan Foods Group. It was a hilarious story meant to make people laugh and not teach them anything. As expected, friend requests start streaming in and I did a lousy job of accepting them because I am that lazy.
One man, tired of waiting in line, decided to go a step further because you only get ahead by being extra. Together with his Biblical name, he matched to my inbox and said, “I choose to request to be your friend, after reading your story about sufuria ya ugali!!! imeweza.”
I should have ignored his biblical name and focused more on the three exclamation marks. One exclamation mark is always enough and when someone goes for three you must be worried. But it was a good day. The sun was out and Jesus was happy so I wrote back, “Thanks, man. Cheers to friendship.” and then went to brush my teeth before, later on, standing on the balcony to think about Jesus and whether He is still tight with the thief who repented on the cross. When it was clear the only way to find out was for me to die and go to heaven, something I am not ready for, yet, I abandoned that thought and checked the message that had popped up on my Messenger.
It was the man with the Biblical name. He was back, not just to thank me for accepting his friend request, which was unnecessary, but to show me just how much more extra he can be. His message had me sweating and pulling up my trousers which had sagged because I don’t do belts while in the house. He wrote, “Wewe natamani nikupate head-on… I will really feel sooooo good.”
Again, the brother here was overdoing it with the four zeros instead of one. But this time his Biblical name did not stand in the way of my alertness, my antenna shot up (hehe), and I quickly blocked him because I was not curious to know what he meant by head-on (collision) and what that got to do with him feeling “soooo good.”
My first instinct was that this fellow was gay and that he was aiming to shoot his shot with me. Which is okay, shooting your shot, but only if you are sure the person you are shooting at is ready and willing, to take the bullets. I shared the story on Facebook and if you were not under self-quarantine on that day, you must have seen it and probably given your opinion. It might have been an overreaction on my part, but there is something about being hit on by a fellow man that messes with your equilibrium if you are as straight as an arrow.
There is a reason why as men we live by certain rules. For instance, after a night out with your male pals, you do not text to ask ‘Ulifika?’ because that’s simply none of your business. You will know they arrived safely the next time you see them, and if they died, you will know by finding yourself in his funeral WhatsApp group. You do not send a lonely ‘Hi,’ to a fellow man, worse if you are strangers. You do not stare at another man’s penis while in the urinal, even if it’s so huge it casts a long and curvy shadow over the wall and floor. You pretend you can’t notice anything. You avoid eye contact with the shadow and, later on, while having drinks with your guys, you don’t say, “Lakini nani anakuanga mkisii, si ndio?”
Although we must make an exception to this urinal rule. Say you are at the urinal with Mutiso and you do not see his side of the wall darkening with a shadow, you should be allowed a mini second of looking followed with a question, “Is everything okay at home, Mutiso? Is your mama happy? Are you sure? Because there is no pride in suffering in silence, man, I am just saying!” haha.
These unspoken rules help us maintain our sanity, but perhaps times are changing and we need to be changing with them. I thought about my reaction and wondered whether it made me homophobic. I have never had a problem with the LGBTQ community because I believe love is love and we cannot choose for you whom to love. But is that enough? Simply saying ‘I have no problem?’ I think the true test of whether you are homophobic or not is when someone of the same gender hits on you. That’s when you know where you really belong and what you need to do to change your mindset.
But if there is anything I learned from this episode is the collective hypocrisy of us men. We are guilty of harassing women in the name of seducing them. We camp in their inboxes and, sometimes, when words fail, we send them unsolicited pictures of our penis in the hope that it will help change their mind. And we expect women to be okay with this. Si, we are hunters? But then when a man slides in your inbox with, “Hey, baby, I love your tight ass,” you jump as if a caterpillar has just wedged itself between your buttcrack and raise hailstorm.
Reminds me of an episode on How I Met Your Mother. The boys (Ted, Martial and Barney) are not amused at how the girls (Robin and Lily) rudely tell off men for hitting on them. The boys reckon the girls could be a little bit nicer, you know, appreciating the effort and courage the men had to muster to approach them. They claim if it were them, they would be nicer. So the girls took them to a gays’ club and it was the boys’ turn to be hit on. They are nice at first, saying, “Thanks for noticing my sweater, but I am engaged.” and “Thanks for thinking my jaws are awesome but I am straight,” and they kept being hit on until they snapped! “Back off, man, stop staring at my ass!”
I am out of here.
Also, great to be back.