Ladies, stop rummaging through men's phones!

Last week I sat in a waiting room waiting to see a doctor. My neck was stiff as a dead cow’s hind leg – this was before my (now former) dentist broke my tooth in half. (What can I say, it’s been an eventful year).

I suspected it was because of my pillow or sitting at the laptop for too long, or my latest walking style, who knows?

Seated right opposite me was an old couple. The man could have been in his early 60s. He was probably suffering from lack of sleep or a back problem, bladder problems or his bones rattled like an African percussion instrument when he took off his

trousers. He had a wise sprinkling of white hair on his hairline and a salt and pepper beard. He looked like a professor.

I bet his kids were all grown up, working in banks and driving those annoying silver Nissan X-trails that I suspect are given away for free on Sundays in a remote corner of Industrial Area. He looked like a pensioner who does a bit of consulting and

strawberry farming to keep his mind occupied.

Next to him sat his wife. Her bones were fine. She was wearing an expensive but prim and proper dress with loads of petals and flat shoes, and she had a book open on her laps.

I tried to take a peek at the title but I didn’t quite catch it, but it was probably something deep about faith or destiny or whatever it is that mothers in flat shoes read. She was probably Catholic. I can always tell who is Catholic by looking at their poise. I have

that talent.

The old man had his reading glasses perched at the tip of his nose and he was holding his phone away like my dear departed mom used to do, because his eyes had seen a lot of crazy stuff and they were tired and weren’t as good as they once were.

He seemed to be reading a message. From where I was seated, I could tell that he wasn’t the only one on his phone. His dear wife was also reading his message! And he wasn’t even aware! He thought she was reading her book about destiny!

The sneaky old lady!

Of course my first instinct was to protect my kind, so I wanted to shout, “Prof, your wife is reading your messages; abort mission, I repeat abort!” But I just sat there and watched a man’s privacy being violated. I failed Prof and all the men reading this

now. And I apologise.

WOMEN ARE ALL THE SAME

Women are all the same whether they are 60 or 25! They all are just dying to see what’s on our phones, aren’t they? She was so subtle, she must have perfected the art over the years. She sat there using her book as a prop while checking out his phone from

the corner of her eye. I mean, 35 or so years of marriage and she still wanted to know what he was reading on his phone? Does this madness ever end?

Then she did something weird; she reached out and took his phone from his hands. He seemed taken aback. For a moment there he seemed worried as she scrolled through whatever he was reading, which I doubt was a statement from the bank or a

LinkedIn request.

I wondered what a man his age would be hiding. Did he have chicks sending him nudes? Were they sending him hard words: “Prof, what does alphmegamia* mean?” Was he flirting with the green grocer? The one his wife swore she would rather die of

scurvy than buy one fruit from her shop?

He looked innocent. As a couple, they looked like they were beyond petty jealousies, they looked like they spent evenings reading and drinking tea and calling each other “dearest.”

They reminded of that bad habit women have of rummaging through men’s phones. They take their men’s phones under the pretext of taking pictures or videos or making a call.

You should see the men hand over their phones for their wives to take pictures (because somehow their own phone cameras can’t take as good pictures!) and how their men sit there holding their breath, hoping that none of those carefree friends who start

their messages with “hey sweetie...” sends a message while mummy is taking Junior’s photo while he sings on stage. That can start the longest battle that will end way after the black rhino has gone extinct. Ladies, if you look at a man’s phone you will

always find something “suspicious” or “inappropriate”. So, stop.

Anyway, after the old lady read whatever she wanted to read, she returned the phone to Prof without a word and he simply folded his spec, put them away in his inner coat pocket and put away his phone.

While she went through his phone, he stared ahead like he didn’t give a damn anymore. Like he had long resigned to the despotic ways of his wife. I bet he didn’t feel sick anymore. I bet his bones stopped aching and all he wanted was to go home and take a

long nap because it’s only in his dreams that he finds privacy from the openly snoopy ways of his wife. Then it dawned on me, with terror, that that the snooping never ends. And you still wonder why we don’t live longer?

When the nurse called my name to see the doctor, I wished that woman was the one with my stiff neck. Let’s see how you look at people’s messages with that neck, Mama Olivia!

*Alphmegamia is a fetish for older men.