Give young girls a break, you married men

 

In Summary

• I am tired of walking into restaurants and sitting next to a married couple only to be upset by the man staring at my legs and cleavage in the full glare of his long-suffering wife.
• You married man next door who texts me randomly saying “Twende Masaku Sevens,” God help me next time I bump into you on the stairs. I will show your wife the text messages you send me.
• When you have managers’ retreats in Naivasha, don’t ask me to accompany you. You are a married man. Take your wife there, period!

By NJOKI CHEGE
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Today’s piece is dedicated to all married men who like to shamelessly chase after young women like me. Shame on you! Shame on you again. Being in a boring marriage does not permit you to seek fun in the arms of young women.

 

I had to pen this because I am sick and tired of being hit on, stalked and followed by married men. I have tried to ward them off by wearing a ring but they just won’t stop.

Since today I am in a foul mood, I will give you a piece of my mind and hopefully, you will stop pestering me and other pretty, young girls around with text messages in the dead of the night asking “Unapika nini leo” (What are you cooking tonight)?

I am tired of walking into restaurants and sitting next to a married couple only to be upset by the man staring at my legs and cleavage in the full glare of his long-suffering wife.

I am sick and tired of going to church and sitting next to a family and the married man cannot let me listen to the word of God in peace without stealing glances at my derriere.

I am tired of married men passing their business cards to me in traffic and telling me to “call me, we have a drink soon”. I am sick and tired of walking into a pub only to have married men with children in upper primary asking to dance with me. Most of you can’t dance anyway.

I WILL EXPOSE YOU

If you want to chase after a girl 17 years your junior in a bid to re-invent your youth, then you must start at the gym and lose that flabby flesh that masquerades as a stomach.

Stop calling me after work hours to “check on me”. Yes, I cooked dinner and you are not invited. Nenda ule kwako!

No, I don’t sleep before 11pm, and that is absolutely none of your business. And why are you, a married man, texting me at 11:26pm? Stop sending me messages on WhatsApp, and will you stop sharing naughty videos or those silly photos with sexual innuendos that I saw in 2012?

When it is clear I am ignoring your texts, don’t text me to say “Why are you ignoring me” or “wacha maringo”. Don’t inbox me on Facebook to tell me “Nice profile picture, can we have a date?” and next time you bombard my Twitter page with messages, I swear that I will expose you.

And to that married man who lives in my building who keeps knocking on my door asking for ‘a movie’, next time you knock, I will make a movie out of your philandering ways.

You married man next door who texts me randomly saying “Twende Masaku Sevens,” God help me next time I bump into you on the stairs. I will show your wife the text messages you send me. Asking me to accompany you to Masaku Sevens is an insult to my intelligence and a total disregard to my very young body.

SAVE YOUR COINS

Don’t ask me where I live and don’t ask if you can come for ‘tea’ in my house. Didn’t you buy milk in your own house? And yes, I can pay my own rent. Use that money to buy a gym membership for your wife.

When we bump into each other at the carwash with your cute toddler, don’t ask if you can help me park my car. I got it there by myself and I know how to reverse-park, no matter how many turns I make and however long it takes me to do it.

A seven-point-turn is also part of driving. It is my car, so even if I bump it against the pavement seven times, never mind.

Don’t offer to help me reach for that packet of juice in the supermarket and ask for my number afterwards. Even if it is clear that not even my six-inch heels can help me reach the top shelf, let me ask the attendants for help. I don’t need your assistance that comes with strings attached.

Don’t invite me to your office parties to show me off to your colleagues. Don’t call to ask if we can hang out on Friday night or if you can buy me a drink at ‘Serena’. I know you don’t have that kind of money, so please, save your coins for a nice pair of heels for your wife.

When you have managers’ retreats in Naivasha, don’t ask me to accompany you. You are a married man. Take your wife there, period!

WIVES STASHED IN RURAL AREAS

Don’t ask me to accompany you to your shamba in Nyahururu where you are attempting to farm potatoes. I don’t care how much land you own, or what you are trying to farm. You are lying to your wife and you will pay for it.

That lie that you and your wife are separating or getting divorced is so yesterday, so please don’t piss me off by telling me what a rocky marriage yours is. I am not a fool and I don’t care what happens in your shaky marriage.

This also applies to those married men who have wives stashed in rural areas and live in the city as single men. We know you and we can smell you a mile away.

Don’t promise me heaven when your life looks like hell. It doesn’t work that way.

Stick to your wife, she is your choice, no matter how she looks or behaves. Pamper her and leave single girls like me to mingle with eligible bachelors that deserve us. I do not need to remind you that you had your time.

Finally, to those extremely obnoxious married men who lie that they are not married on the first date, God has reserved the hottest corner in hell for you.

To those who lie that their wives are “just baby mamas”, style up because your lies will not last. They will catch up with you and you will soon be exposed, however mighty you are.