Men only have standards during the day. When the sun is out and our actions are seen and our pride is out basking in the sun. This is when we will say “A woman with a wig is a No for me! Unless we can use that wig to scrub sufurias when we run out of steel wool.” Or, “If a woman has no defined waistline I am not wasting my time with her. I don’t want to wrap my hands around her waist—or what I assume is her waist—only to feel like I have my hands around a 20 litres Elianto Jerrican.” Or, “Sasa what will I do with a woman who is not God-fearing, mmmh? A woman who drinks Guarana and dresses like her tailor is always running away with the rest of the material shouldn’t be wifed!”
But when darkness falls, because darkness must fall, a man will have sex with anyone who has a vagina. Or whatever takes the place of a vagina in ‘rear’ cases (haha). The man will have his pride for dinner and when he steps out, everything will be beautifully and wonderfully made. And by everything, I am assuming you know I mean women.
That’s why the assumption that the mpango wa kando will always be hotter than the wife is a lie. In the darkest corner of the pub, you’ll see this married man you know with a side chick who looks like a Kingitai (That chicken with no feather on the neck) and you’ll wonder what the fuck? Isn’t this jamaa married to that lady everyone wants to bang? What the hell is he doing with that Kingitai?
You’ll move closer for a better look because maybe you were the one who wasn’t seeing things clearly. You have had too much to drink after all. You’ll close your eyes, shake your head well-well to get rid of the Kingitai image so you can look at this side chick with fresh eyes and pass proper judgement.
You’ll pretend to be walking past their table and feign surprise on seeing them. As he springs on his feet to hug you, you’ll shoot the side chick a quick look and shake your head again. No, you were not wrong. Still looks like a Kingitai. Only with human eyelashes and a burning bush on her head. You wonder if she would move if you mwagad mtama on the floor.
“Long time, man, what have you been up to?” he’ll ask.
“Not rearing Kingitai chickens.”
“Haha,” he will burst out laughing. “You are a funny guy. But seriously, umepotelea wapi bana?”
“Niko tu. Hustling hapa na pale,” you’ll say, still eyeing the kingitai. She will be drinking her Guarana from this long glass and licking her lips. Her eyebrows will be well drawn and you’ll silently remark at how classy this Kingitai is. You will wait for introductions from your friend but none will be forthcoming. You will say your goodbyes and shuffle to the gents.
Later, you will tell the girl you are drinking with, “You need to see that guy’s wife.”
“The one I was talking to a few minutes ago.”
The lady you are with will shoot that your friend and his side chick a quick look and say, “That’s not his wife?”
“No. His wife is hot!”
“I wonder what he is doing with this one.”
“So you think it’s crazy that he is cheating with a woman who is less attractive than his wife?”
She will shake her head.
“What? You don’t think it’s crazy?”
“If I cheated on you with a guy who is less attractive, would you be mad that I cheated on you, or you would be mad because I cheated on you with a guy who is less attractive.”
You will want to say that you wouldn’t mind her sleeping with whoever she wants, but you will not be quick to answer. Because you know damned well that it’s a trick question. This bird in front of you is not your wife. She is not your girlfriend. She is not even your side chick because you have no main chick. But occasionally, when the nights are long, your life is dead boring and you are questioning your purpose here on earth, you always grab your phone and shoot her a text. “Sasa? Guess who whipped some decent Omena today?”
“Seriously? Now you are referring to sex as Omena?”
“No, I am not.”
“Come on. We both know the only reason you are texting me at this time of the night is that you want us to have sex.”
“No, I don’t want sex. I really did cook some delicious omena. Added some pilipili in the hope that the poor chaps will close their eyes but wapi?”
“Good for you. Mimi I am retiring.”
“Retiring? You are only 27! If everyone retires at 27, who will work and feed this nation, mmh?”
“Oh, please. Goodnight, Jose.”
“Okay, I am horny.”
“Mimi I am sleeping, but the door is not locked. Come do your thing and show yourself out. Na usiniamshe!”
You’ll jump out of bed, grab your keys and wallet and hoodie and dash out into the dark like a mad man.
“No answer today, huh? Strange,” she will say, sipping her drink. You will pull yourself out of your head and put on what you imagine is your serious face. She will look you in the eyes because she is the kind that doesn’t back out of a staring contest.
“I think cheating is bad. But cheating with someone who doesn’t even measure up to your wife’s standards is plainly stupid.”
“Do erections have standards? Does your dick ask, ‘Wait, before I go in, what is the education level of this woman? Because if she is a nursery dropout I am not going in?”
“Haha. What do you mean?”
“In my opinion men have no standards.” She will shrug.
“Bullshit! We do.”
“Of course, we do.”
“Do you mind sharing your standards?”
You’ll open your mouth to describe your kind of woman but it will hit you that everything you’ll say will perfectly fit her description. You’ll be describing her. And by the time you are done, you’ll be asking her to officially be your girlfriend. She played you. This Valentine you will spend and spend big. So you will scratch your head unconvincingly before going ahead to spell out the standards you expect your woman to have. Her smile will be widening with everything you say, not necessarily because the description fits her and she won’t have to wait for another silly Omena text to get laid, but because she admires your ability to believe in vanity.